Good afternoon, Sports enthusiasts of Pomona College. The summer, she’s a-comin’, and she ain’t happy, enthusiasts. As you read this, I will be home in warm and friendly Minneapolis, far, far away from this urine-soaked hell. To expidite the process of wrting this article and laying this paper "to bed," non-sexually, I have solicited the assistance of one J. Selb, Box 400, Pitzer College ‘03 so that he might finish this article once I have left for my flight home, at 12:41 a.m. Thursday morning.

It has been an eventful semester in the sports world of Pomona College indeed. Unfortunately, neither J. Selb, Box 400, Pitzer College nor I care to discuss it at the present time. Subsequently, at this time, we will go to the phone lines to hear what, you, Pomona College, have to say.

"Nate, this is a newspaper article, which varies from a call-in format talk-radio show in that we cannot receive and react to calls," said J. Selb, Box 400, Pitzer College, and for this I thank him. At this point, I need to commit a sentence to the wide world of sports. Heh-heh, just like ESPN. See, that whole metaphysical conversation about the differing journalistic media has kind-of spun old Nate ‘03 for a loop. Why don’t I turn this over to J. Selb, Box 400, Pitzer College?

Thank you, Nate. Simply put, this year’s Minnesota Twins cannot fail. With Ratke at the mound and this year’s number one draft pick, Gregory Stiens at shortstop and at clean-up hitter this season’s literally a no-brainer. Folks, let me tell you that as a Twins fan, I’ve found life treats you better. The water tastes purer, your morning eggs taste…more eggier. Yes sir, if lovin’ the Twins is corny, corn me up. Someone who is, oh I don’t know, a Braves fan no doubt lives a shameful life. Not only did the Twins beat them in the ’91 series, but they in all likelihood bombed their city’s own Olympic Park back in ’96. Will Weinstien was overheard saying "The Twins are just super–oh, I don’t know–the Twins are ‘03 just super. Old Will’s crackin’ up over here. Will needs to keep it together for just a little longer."

Thank you for your thoughts Will, and with God’s aid you will conquer your horrible, horrible addiction. Well, with us privy to all this new information, I can think of nothing more appropriate then to return the pen back from whence it came. Back to you Nate.

Thank you, J. Selb, Box 400, Pitzer College. Hey, do you all remember the time me, J. Selb, Box 400, Pitzer College, my asshole prospy who forced me to listen to Dave Matthews’ Band for three and one-half hours, and "Ji Chong" started flipping tables one night at the Campus Center after the fire alarm had gone off? Have you heard that alarm? Jesus, it’s like the Platoon meets Apocalypse Now, if you can imagine such a crazy Hollywood cross-breed. Anyway, we started running around the whole fuckin’ Campus yelling things like "The revolution will not be televised!" and "Has anybody seen Tron?" People were scared. Several died, metaphorically. It’s all metaphor though, really. On to line two.

"Thank you Nate, but I keep telling you, all this discussion about societal malaise and empty metaphor will only lead to feelings of self-loathing. Already these false metonymies are causing you to incorrectly connect ‘line two’ with the printed word. I’m taking over for awhile," said me, J. Selb, Box 400, Pitzer College.

Wazzup Claremont!?! California in the hiz-zouse!!! I have been born again with the sole purpose of shari my enlightened opinion on the great sport of baseball. But I have an inklin’ that this can be better accomplished by reprinting here by an old drinking song that goes a-little somethin’ like this, "We’re gonna win Twins/We’re gonna score/We’re gonna win Twins/Watch that baseball soar/Let’s hit a home-run/Shout out ‘Hip. Hooray.’/Cheer for the Minnesota Twins today!" Twins. Twins. Twins. Twins. Braves. Wait. Wait. Did I say Braves? I meant Twins. Back to you, Nate.

Slow down, J. Selb, Box 400, Pitzer College, you just said a mouthful. That last paragraph will take posterity years to sort out. At this point, I’d like to quote myself in length:

"Ji Chong: Ah, springtime. When the birds sing, flowers bloom, and college DJs host radio shows in the nude. And there’s stickball, too.

Luc Schuster: Ji, babe. ‘Sup with DJ Knut?

Ji: Knut, my friend, hosts DJ Knut’s Video Game Review, weekly on KSPC. I stumbled upon it one monumentous night with a few friends, including yourself, and had a ‘come to Jesus,’ if you will. Back to stickball.

Luc: There was an epic batting cage tournament a few weeks ago at Harvey Mudd. It was a good ‘ol fashioned game of stickball, except there were no sticks, no balls, and no teams.

Will Weinstein: I don’t understand.

Luc: Stickball is stickball.

Ji: Well, you see, we were locked in a dangerous confrontation with a rowdy group of Harvey Mudd students involving lemons and limes being thrown at one another. Those Harvey Mudd kids really took a beating though, I’ll tell you what," said me, Nate Fisher, Sports Editor.

"Aren’t you guys almost out of space?" asked Claire Becker ‘03, and with that we all vanished into metaphor.