Back In the Game: Episode 3 Review and Recap

This week’s episode of Back In the Game is called “Play hard or go home.” I wish I could have that choice. Instead, I stayed home today thanks to my disease vector of a son. And while I could  say that this stupid show made me sick, slowly sapping me of my will to fight on against life’s many injustices, that would be a lie. And I cannot abide a lie that doesn’t benefit me in some way. Plus, Carson gets cross if we don’t post, and it disturbs me to see such a gentle hipster stirred to anger and making threats he can’t follow through on from across the ocean.

So what do we have this week? As the rookie coach and as the girl, Terry is tasked with running the Little League’s dreaded annual fund raising campaign by the misogynist douchebag league president whose name I can never remember (which can’t be a good sign for this show since he’s one of the four main characters). Simultaneously, she is trying to find a date for The Cannon, who has seemingly turned extra mean because he’s not getting any. Meanwhile, Danny is trying to make inroads with the 10 year old Baseball Annie, Vanessa, who has temporarily broken up with her asshole boyfriend.

Terry sends the kids out in a parking lot full of ladies to find a date for The Cannon, and they return with Night Court veteran Markie Post, who is way too good for this show. The Cannon, to teach his daughter a lesson about meddling in his love life, steals the Little League money and hires a barfly to hang around the house and annoy everybody. Then he goes out with Markie Post anyway and Terry sells The Cannon’s TV to get the candy money back. Great, now none of them get to watch TV anymore. On the bright side, they won’t have to watch the desperate celebration of humanity’s core awfulness that is this show. So kudos to them.

Also, congratulations to Danny for somehow stealing Vanessa’s iced tea, putting a love note (that somehow stays dry) under the bottle cap, and slipping it back into her lunch. When she reads it, she smiles, probably to cover up how disturbed she is that he broke into her locker, stole her drink, and broke the seal that’s supposed to reassure you your beverage hasn’t been poisoned. Here’s the stupid episode in all of what passes for glory in this worthless age:

The Cannon’s Baseball Tips of the Week:
Terry: “Slide in on your butt, front knee bent, hands in the air.”
The Cannon: “So when we teach you to pop up, you can hit ’em right in the mouth with a good elbow, alright?”
Terry: “No, no! It’s to protect your hands.”

References to real baseball:
The Cannon: “That was good [baseball]? Ted Williams’ head would roll over in its freezer.”
Markie Post used to sell beer at Dodger Stadium and once made it with Steve Garvey.
Clayton Kershaw was allegedly pitching the game The Cannon was about to watch before Terry made him go on his date.

Age inappropriate things kids do and say:
Dudley: “My dad gets mad like that when my mom’s away. My brother says that’s because he’s pent up.”
One of the twins: “What’s pent up?”
Dudley: “When he needs to get some.”

Life Lessons learned through baseball:
“This game is about commitment and focus. Committed. You know who’s committed? The Chinese. They’re committed. And one day, they’re going to come screamin’ up that beach in Santa Monica, and they’re going to lop your heads off, and send them to your mothers in a little white To Go box. Now, let’s go slidin’.”

The verdict:
Hey, now I remember the league president’s name! It’s Dick. Because then the get to make dick jokes.

This show continues to be unfunny, completely devoid of humor. It continues to beg us to have affection for these charactes who have no redeeming qualities, and who treat each other horribly. James Caan won’t stop mumbling unintelligibly. The kids continue to be useless, even Danny’s new gay best friend (a friendship that comes out of nowhere, by the way), who steers him first toward and then away from Vanessa. Next week, I may need to watch this show with a morphine drip. It won’t make it any less painful, but at least I won’t give a damn.