OUTFIELD DITCH-EQUIPPED

As majestic and treacherous as a pizza roll straight out of the oven. Natural wonders abounded amidst a cliffside seascape as wild goats bray along like greeks at their first Phoenix Open. From atop the right field precipice, spectators marvel at impromptu beachfront seal rescues and gasped as one athlete after another disappears into the jagged chasm of the right field “warning track.” Not to be outdone by Mama Naturaleza, the bones of manmade cabañas litter the ground while tortured rebar groan under layers of ancient rust and horse blood, betraying the field’s origin as an old polo field. El Polo serves as a wellspring of our modern mythos, the atom smasher that aligned the clanging electrons of disparate YFS Chapters into divine harmony. At last, the ass(w)holes of the YFS have become greater than the sum of its parts.