re: What's with Travinski?

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He’s looking forward to coaching a 9u team with hot moms…

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If this is wrong I don’t want to be right.

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He’s looking forward to coaching a 9u team with hot moms…

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Trav's stache mows the yard in a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert-tee with the sleeves cut off, a pair of way too tight coaches' shorts, white fishing Oakleys with the frat strap hanging, long white sox with red and blue stripes around the top pulled up to its calves, double fisting Miller High Life cans, with a Marlboro Red dangling from its mouth.

Then just leaves on the mower, swings through the drive-thru liquor store and grabs a case of Natty Light on its way to the softball park, pulls up 2 minutes before its Sunday afternoon slow-pitch game where its the DH--for both teams--, parks right outside the dugout, hops off, pops a top, lights a cig from the one still in its mouth, flicks the old one over the chain link fence and onto the field, grabs a bat with a Confederate flag on the barrel, struts slowly to the box, no helmet, adjusts its package, drops a towering 1st pitch tater into the trees, and walks casually back to the dugout.

Doesn't even run the bases--it's got its own courtesy runner starting from behind the box. Sits on the bench in the shade the next couple hours just ripping heaters, crushing warm Natty Lights and big arse bombs.

Every other inning it'll go sit in the stands for a bit, next to its 2nd wife, barefoot, wrinkled and aged from too much sun, rocking jorts, a "Guns, God, and Freedom" tank top and yelling at its 5 step kids with 4 different daddies, while it hits on all the newly multiple timed-married, 40-something-year-old wives right in front of her and their husbands. And nobody says shite. Except Trav's stache, with the occasional "Hey Debbie. Nice tits."