Week 9

The Last of the Murphies

Sunday marked another Epic week in the Murphy Memorial League. Some teams fell; some teams rose; some teams lay beaten and cleaved on the field of glorious fantasy baseball battle. Now, in the aftermath, only one thing appears certain: in the game of baseball, only hard-hitting bats and devastating sliders guarantee survival. In this league, we make baseball—not mourning war.

2nd place Scuffie McGee defeated 4th place Shirts of Jack Bradfield in a clash of pitching versus hitting, and Huron versus Mohican. The native baseballer GM Sigel performed the holy rite of mourning war, finishing with a slight edge in categories. Scuffie pulled out the victory by crushing 46 runs, 18 hr's, 49 rbi's and swiping 15 steals, which along with K's gave him the victory 5-4-1. Later, Sigel told reporters that the close win left him unsatisfied, and that "the blade was still clean. The wrath of a Mohawk turned Huron can only be satiated by further blood and conquest. When Bud Selig is dead, Scuffie will eat his heart. Before he dies, Scuffie will put his children under the knife, so the Grey Hair will know his seed is wiped out forever."

Crazy man Gary Busey continued his league-wide assault, nabbing the Bong, massacring the lagging Babes 9-1 like they were leaving Fort William Henry, and claiming the third spot on the leader board. Hitting 50 runs, 9 hr's, 40 rbi's and swiping 12 bases wasn't as impressive as his league best 68 k's, and his 5 wins, 6 saves and a respective ERA and WHIP of 2.82 and 1.10.

Interviewed while clutching the victorious binger in one hand, and a bag of sticky greens in the other, he exclaimed "Freund really gave me a scare there. As soon as I thought victory was clinched, the Babes became a war party attacking up and down the frontier. They began sweeping south along the frontier attacking farms, hitting homeruns and throwing heaters at Boy Prince's head. If it wasn't for a few well timed hanging curveballs and my tomahawk, I would have been done in for sure." A scream of anguish rocked the interview room as Freund exclaimed "Do the laws of baseball no longer govern? Have they been replaced by Busey's absolutism?"

In other news around the league, the Jacks eeked out a 5-4-1 victory over the hurting Steaks. The matchup came down to the wire, as HR's were deadlocked at the end of Sunday night at 10. Sands won runs by 2, and Iafe snuck out both K's and runs by 1. Iafe's performance and his rise out of the cellar are impressive, certainly given the extensive losses his lineup has suffered this season.

Iafe, giving his team a last minute pep talk in the clubhouse on Sunday, was heard saying to John Smoltz: "John, you don't submit, you hear? They will take you to a clinic up North, to Huron country. You be strong, you survive—you stay alive." (shaking Smoltz passionately and rubbing his shoulder). "No matter what happens, I will find you! No matter how long it takes, no matter how far, I will find you!" Unfortunately, Iafe's pine tar was wet, and there was NO CHANCE to pick up a bat and defend his boys from defeat.

Fastballs for Breakfast and Hot Ice both had impressive outings. Both managers, reeling from the vertigo induced by low league rankings—a New World one might say—managed their teams to impressive pitching outings, each posting sub 3 ERA's, 6 wins and 5 saves. Yet despite GM Hoffman's unsure standing this year, he was able to pull out 4 of 5 hitting categories to take the week in dominant fashion, 7-1-2.

Despite a long and passionate friendship, the GM's were heard arguing over the very nature of their conflict. GM Kreicher, angered at both the outcome and his underappreciated team, exclaimed: "Who empowered these young players to pass judgment on baseball, and to hit and run without so much as their manager's 'leave?'" Much angered, Hoffman responded "They do not live their lives and play baseball "by your leave"! They hack wins out of the diamond with their own two hands, bearing gloves and their children along the way!" In a year where both franchises are in desperate need of wins, the Manager of Hot Ice sacrificed himself upon the pyre of Murphy, allowing his own immolation—"Murphy, take me! My death is a great honor to the Huron!"

Commissioner McNulty, last of the true Murphies, continued his rise up the standings against once-time friend, now arch nemesis the 3 R's. Nate only took HR's, wins and average, but, channeling Magua, managed to kill GM McNulty's favorite son by slitting his throat and throwing him off the green monster at Fenway. Arriving late to the diamond from his South African home, McNulty wielded a devastating Mohican axe to execute 62 k's, 8 saves, 45 runs and 39 rbis and clinch a costly victory at 6-3-1.

Afterwards, reeling from the carnage, McNulty smoked his African peace pipe, and prayed: "Great Spirit, Maker of All Life. A warrior goes to you swift and straight as an arrow shot into the sun. Welcome him and let him take his place at the Murphy council fire of my people. He is Carpenter, my son. Tell them to be patient and ask death for speed (and power); for they are all there but one - I, Kellan- Last of the Murphies."