Well ladies and gentlemen, we find ourselves in the midst of another great season of Cicada Baseball. That’s right, the sport that frightens the worthless little bugs from their places of solitude so they can be chased and utterly destroyed by the world’s best players, all for the enjoyment of the thousands of fans in the crowd.

Now, maybe thousands is an over-exaggeration. And maybe a crowd is an exaggeration in itself.

Either way, the sport of Cicada Baseball is a fun and exciting one, and if perchance you’ve never had the joy of playing the game yourself, allow me to explain how it works.

Two teams of players set off into the neighborhoods of Cicada-infested regions, armed with whiffle bats, long, sharp sticks; just about anything capable of insect decapitation. When a tree filled with Cicadas is found, it is shaken and disturbed, and when the flying nuisances escape the branches, the two teams set out at once to beat them to the ground. Bats go swinging with little regard for the other players, and the Cicadas begin to fall. As the points increase, so do the injuries sustained by the reckless teamates, and the fun has just begun.

When at last the teams are too tired to lift a battered finger, the points are added up, and the one with the most kills is the winner!

Be warned, however: Cicada Baseball is not for the weak at heart. If you do not care to see Cicada guts ruthlessly splashed out upon the pavement, or Cicada bodies being ripped in two and crushed underfoot, then perhaps the game is not for you.

But regardless of your choice, I believe Cicada Baseball is a sport that is sure to be enjoyed by generations to come. And when at last the blind, stupid, and incredibly noisy creatures emerge from their holes in the ground in another seventeen years only to mate, molt and generally be annoying, then crawl back underground to suck the life out of tree roots, you’ll be sure to see me there, putting an end to their (and everyone else’s) misery.