August 23rd, 1999 - Win 19-4
No longer are the chickens just a bunch of crazies in great shirts ... now they are a superpower to be reckoned with!

Well it's hard to put into words the havoc that was unleashed on poor old team 8B. The chickens certainly put on a clinic that's for sure! With a squad of Rubber Chicken, Scoreboard, Finger Lickin' Good, Plucked, Soul Sistah, Graham Central Station, Colonal Sanders, Interplanet Janet, and Kai - the ringer - the chickens blasted to a 9-0 start before the halftime lazies nipped at their heels. They allowed a whopping FOUR POINTS in the second half as the 8B team almost caught up to them (NOT!). It was a fun game, that was started a little late but due to the efficiency of the scoring prowess, the game even ended early. Nary a bead of sweat could be found on the brows of the powerful poultry come the end of the match, so our heroes graciously stayed longer, deep into the night, unable to let go of the addiction that brings them back to the field every Monday night. Some might say that chasing a little yellow plastic plate around is a total waste of time. But, in this humble reporter's eyes, the beauty, chemistry and grace of a bunch of chickens tearing around the coop, diving, flicking and passing the bee is more art than anything else.

   The history of the frisbee-playing chicken actually dates back to ancient Hawaii. It is a little known fact that on some of the smaller islands, the locals often assembled a group of 10 hens onto a small imported patch of grass with the single men of the town sitting in a big circle around the lawn. They then tossed in the plate used by the town priest the night before and the first chicken that placed the dirty dish into the hat of the man sitting behind it - the father who owned the hen would offer the man his daughter's hand in marriage. Of course, all the men of the town wanted the most beautiful woman's chicken to place the dish in his hat, so whenever a particularly popular hen grabbed the dish in her beak, all the men would get up on their feet and dance on the spot - flapping their arms like wings, stomping their feet, and, most important of all, clucking like mad - trying desperately to attract the chicken towards them. It is unclear whether or not this grand spectacle actually attracted the hen more, but the silly men certainly gave it their all! This ritual took place every Summer's Monday night for all the anxiously single women and men of the town. More often than not, the sacred bond formed that fateful night between man, woman and chicken, would last forever and ever - well beyond the life span of the heavens above. Today, we honour this age old custom in much the same way. The game we play is really just a metaphor for the symbiotic relationship between man, woman, chicken, frisbee and the motherland - Hawaii. We try our best to preserve this delicate balance in costume, behaviour, and especailly the desire to win the best chicken, or in our case, to be WAY funkier than our opponent.

Congratulations to everyone who came out for an excellent first season. But in the meantime - let's go get that TROPHY! BRAWK!