Spring is a time of year everyone anticipates. UCSD students eagerly await the warm weather, the annual Sun God festival and the last quarter of another dreadful school year. But for the respective staffs of the Koala and Guardian publications, there are bigger matters at hand: the traditional post-Sun God sloshball game.
A contingent of Koala staffers and ringers (left) debate the merits of a fight versus a drink-off while the Guardian supporters await the verdict.
As usual, the game was held the day after the concert festival, when everyone awakes in a daze just hoping to manage their abysmal hangovers. Guardian and Koala members chose instead to run around with bats, drinking keg beer and arguing over calls for hours on end – all in the name of shit-talking.
As much as I hate to admit it, the Koala has the shit-talking card up its sleeve for the next year after humiliating the few Guardian members willing to show up in a game (or maybe it was two games) that was hardly recognizable as softball.
Despite my bitterness at losing and the Koala’s dirty tactics, I must give their squad due props. They outnumbered us, they outweighed us, they out-hit us, they out-drank us, and most importantly, they out-cheated us.
Koala members reading this shouldn’t feel insulted by this accusation; they know they cheated and they are proud of their cheating ways. In fact, I’ve urged my Guardian teammates – after losses during the two years I’ve been a part of this tradition – that the only way for us to beat the Koala is for us to learn how to play dirty.
Examples of the Koala’s less than noble tactics include Dirty Mike biting the arm of our first baseman and focus editor Justin P. Williams and every belligerent 300-pound Koala douchebag challenging every 150-pound Guardian staffer to a drink-off on even unquestionable plays.
At this point, the contest isn’t about the better team coming together to drink and sloppily play some semblance of softball. Rather, it is a brutish show of strength by the Koala, who uses its distinct size and beer belly advantage to bully the Guardian into submission.
Here’s an example of how dedicated, to a fault, the Koala is to winning the game: one Koala team member had to pause on the sideline to administer an IV of saline solution to himself to avoid alcohol poisoning and keep drinking to help his team to victory, despite an already insurmountable lead.
That, in my opinion, is insanity. I love sloshball and I really do want to do as much as I can to help the Guardian to a sweet, sweet victory, but I draw the line at injecting myself.
When I confronted Koala Editor in Chief Dave Gregory about this, he laughed and said that for next year’s contest, the Koala is planning to take steroids.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for performance-enhancing drugs. Smoking a bowl on the sideline is a great way to work up a cottonmouth-induced thirst for warm beer, but steroids are a tad ridiculous.
The discrepancy in dedication to winning is what separated the Koala from the Guardian. As a sports fan, I respect the Koala’s “”win-at-any-cost”” attitude. In fact, I am a little jealous because I can’t rally my Guardian troops to play with the same urgency. But, I have one more year here and I hope to turn the tide on this tradition by breeding some talented and motivated sloshball stars.
So, enjoy your victory for the time being Koalas, and take your steroids if you must. But just know that next year, when we come back ready to cheat and bite and scratch our way to the top, you will be writing the victory column for us in your paper.
