Facing Backwards on 2016 is a short series by the media team in which we reflect on the season and what it meant to us.  We hope you enjoy.  Here’s Part 3.  (Part 1 and Part 2.)

BTSH
by D. Perko

If there is one thing BTSH stands for its dedication. Dedication to the sport, to the league, our teams, and each other. There is a certain uniqueness to every thing about this league, it’s so pervasive is almost unbelievable that at some point we were drinking beers in our parents’ basements in some far off town (or Staten Island).

BTSH is pure. Yes, some people or teams (looking at you fart rainbows) may embody the competitive spirit a bit too much, but it’s simply because this league means so much to so many people. Witnessing such passion only begets more enthusiasm for the sport, work, and life in general. Walking into work Monday morning knowing you’re a winner (only experienced it once but it was fucking awesome) make you feel inconceivable.

BTSH is a collective acceptance that we didn’t give up. At the end of every Sunday, beers in brown bags, we silently acknowledge this tried and true tradition of sport. Some may not know others, some perhaps a bit too much, but that will never take away from the fact your never a stranger in BTSH.

BTSH is engaging. Witnessing the unadulterated passion in captains’ meetings and the absolute shit show Facebook page is truly a delight. Moreover, a big shout out to everyone who organizes this league, without you we’d all be face down in our own filth (fart rainbows all the time).

BTSH is you, dear reader. You come out to play every Sunday, no matter the hangover, heat, or homeless human’s turds on the court. You are BTSH.

From the bottom of my heart, I cannot thank you enough for this amazing opportunity to be a member of this league and wish all teams the best of luck next year, because GUT ROT is coming for you!

That Ol’ Time BTSH
by Isaac

After spending a season and a half listening to stories about the ‘good old days’ from league veterans, myself and fellow newbies were finally treated to a couple of those vintage times.

The Parkside Lounge gave us a safe space to celebrate and wallow in our own self-disgustingness that was labeled under the working title of the BTSH Olympics. It featured everything from competitive drinking, boys stripping, hooligans gambling and even two girls sharing a cup.  The incident exceeded expectations and it’s going to take a couple of years for some of us to recover from it.

Crabfest brought our community together in what felt like a Sunday family dinner or reunion at a very BTSH place.  The massive crab table and nearby booths were packed with folks popping open crabs, tearing off limbs, cracking jokes and demonstrating their method for scoring that Maryland deliciousness.  Up and down the main bar area it was a mish-mash of BTSHers sloshing back pints and freely carrying on about who knows what.  And the ACE bartender and staff welcomed and served us without a moan or a grumble.  It felt right being back at a place that actually wanted us to be there.

Taking part in these affairs makes it an honor to be associated with such deviant miscreants as y’all.  The rookie class of ‘19 has some mighty big shoes to fill.

Dear Diary
by Sam

Tuesday, July 19th, 2016
Dear mother f*cking Diary!
This summer has been great–ever since not having to be a full-time BTSH journalist, I have been splashing bars and have my life back.  The biggest hunk of them all is now the editor-in-chief, and my common law wife down the street has also been writing the previews, too.  I don’t know who Ophelia Baulls is, but damn, I really want to meet her.  She may even be a better fit for me than Diana Marko, but at times they’re like the same person to me.  What a great f*cking year it has been so far.  The only way it could get better is if the Fuzz lose and Juerys Familia blows the Mets’ post season for the second straight year because I’ve been preaching about how terrible he is and nobody except Zach listens…