the chickball mission statement

'Sup, kids.

So here's the thing. You know those "Super-Fan" clips that the major networks always splice in before a big game? The ones featuring guys all done up in warpaint and Viking caps and whatever the hell else it is that FOX thinks defines an obsessive fan? Well, there's a lot wrong with those clips. First of all, there is no reason that America should be subjected to some fat dude from the Bronx with the Yankees logo painted on his stomach; but more importantly, all those shots are of guys. And to be honest, that's more inaccurate than anything else.

The girls of Chickball are some of the legions of female Super-Fans out there, living in the shadows of the male counterparts who think it's cute that they even know what baseball is. We wear rally caps and face paint and refuse to change our lucky jeans during the playoffs. We scream at umpires more than we scream at our ex-boyfriends. We can rattle off important statistics faster than Tim McCarver, although in all fairness, that's not very difficult. But most of all, we live and die with our respective teams -- just like the boys do.

But enough with the self-important prostheletizing. On to the guts.