Furious Croquet

Pick any day, sunny, rainy; hot or cold. That will be the day that we will be playing croquet. We are “Wickets and Mallets Division”, or “WMD”. I, Proctor Tori created a croquet league. It consists of six man teams, and fierce tournaments every Tuesday afternoon and Saturday nights. We play on my pitch most of the time because I take meticulous care of it. There aren’t many teams that can beat us because we practice three times a week.

I only started the league two years ago, so it is still in the development stage and we don’t have any other teams yet. A neighborhood boy of fourteen has expressed much interest in building a team though, and I feel like it will explode to an epidemic level any time now. Croquet is a tough sport for tough players, and I know that it will catch on with the proper marketing tactics and my determination to be the best. From there the sport speaks for itself.

My dream is to create a croquet frenzy; something like what happened in 1860’s England. What a glorious time that must have been. I set my wickets in hard to reach places in my yard. It is something like a mini golf course for croquet. There are dips and peaks, long grass in some spots, and I even dug a few small holes, slightly larger than a croquet ball just to add a little more flavor to the course. I know that having the course in my yard gives me a bit of an advantage over other potential players, but once the league gets going full steam I know that more venues will be added.

I believe that the general sense surrounding croquet is that it is the second most beautiful game; after football of course. It has to rank that high because, like football, it originated in Great Britain –at least in its current form. I think my zeal for the game has to be because I had a great, great grandmother that was half British. The rest of my blood belongs to non-Catholic Hondurans. There might be a few other nationalities, but those are the ones I like best and the ones I am most proud of; even if they might be the smallest percentage of my blood. It’s a nice, sunny day today, and we are starting our tournament early. I and the other two members of the league will be at my house at 3:00 p.m.; I can hardly contain myself, which is good because I will be stoked to the max by the time we start.

I think we are going to go outside of league principle and make three, one man teams. I feel like that will be the most fair way to divide ourselves, even though I have a feeling that I will win all of the matches. I customarily move a few wickets before we play. Today I have two of them facing each other, but they aren’t in order; they are three and five respectively. We will have to hit the ball only through the first one, hit it back through the same wicket, shoot for the wicket up a slight incline that is equipped with a ball-size hole in front. If you can do that in less than four strokes, you are better than I am; it is a very difficult shot. After that, you can go back to the wicket on the far side of the two facing each other. This has to be done without the ball going through the original number 3 wicket. It forces you to back-track a few feet but I like to play “cultured” croquet. It is obviously a game of great class, skill, and finesse. I might play left-handed today to give the boys a fighting chance of beating me. No one likes to lose all the time and I really want to foster a team-work oriented, all inclusive experience. I am an island of sorts because I don’t know anyone that can beat me. I try not to destroy everyone that I play so they don’t get frustrated and possibly quit the league. Sometimes you have to let the kids win.

The time has come for the tournament. I drank two twenty ounce energy drinks; full of every substance known to man that gives you even the slightest hint of energy, and two liters of the hydration-type sports drinks. I can’t afford to get dehydrated or tired during the match. I have a five gallon jug full of ice and water next to the course in case any of the others get thirsty. Most people don’t realize how much water they use playing an intense game of croquet. The nervousness alone is enough to dehydrate the human body. I carbo-loaded for two days before the match, even though I know there are studies that say it isn’t necessary. I love pasta and bread so much, and I think it gives me a ton of residual energy, so to me that science is rubbish. It is now 3:45 and Moondog and Tiny aren’t here yet. I think they were riding together, so at least they will get here at the same time. I have no choice but to wait. Hopefully they will be stoked like I am. I wonder what is keeping them.

When the rest of my team arrives at 5:30, I can tell that something is wrong with them. Moondog; aka: Jerry, is clearly on a different wave-length than I am, and Tiny; aka: Ray, has yet to get out of the car. He’s just sitting there staring at the glove box. Both of them look very sleepy and hardly in the condition to play. There is a horrible odor coming from the car that smells like grilled skunk; I’m not even going to ask what it is. At the sight of this, I am becoming furious. First they show up two-and-a-half hours late and they have become the essence of lazy, so I boil a few more moments, then exclaim, “What the hell is wrong with you guys? We were supposed to start the tourney at three! This is no way to honor our league! You two are a disgrace to croquet and to The Wickets and Mallets Division! How could you do this to me?” I can’t control my anger any longer, and as I am about to lay into them again, Moondog looks me square in the eye and yells, “You are an idiot! Nobody likes croquet, and no one wants to be on a team! Croquet is a single player game and it doesn’t make any sense to have a team! We are sick of playing the game every other day of the week with your stupid course that is so impossible that you have sucked every ounce of fun out of it! We’re leaving you with your stupid rules; don’t ever call me and ask if I want to play with you because I don’t! Good luck with your league. Goodbye Proctor!”

Well that was not expected. I guess I have to re-organize my strategy and start over with a new marketing plan and something to make this wonderful sport finally catch on.