I guess we're getting closer to Spring because in DC that signals the beginning of Kick Ball registration - for the hardcore players, that is. I've been playing for around 3 years and each season I'm impressed by my experience. For a little insight into what it is, I have compilled some trash talk from previous seasons when I played with The Beatdown - bear in mind, the teams have odd names and the locations may not be familiar to you. Anyways, these were featured in "Ghost Man on Third", the weekly WAKA Kick Ball newsletter:

8/4/05 (After our game at Nolan's Bar in Adam's Morgan)
"...I have to point out the creativity of Nolan's bar staff, who used mostly found objects and raw material to build flip cup areas - several times, you guys came dangerously close to an actual table. When I first arrived, I didn't know whether to play or build a shelving unit, but thankfully Kickballers like to drink heavily and irresponsibly, and I soon got over the awkwardness of the new venue. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship..."

8/14/05 (At Adams Mill in Adams Morgan, "Off in Public" is this Cobra-kai-like team and everyone hates them)
"...Amanda, our charming, even-tempered second baseman, at some point during the night transformed into a one-woman wrecking crew, dealing out flip-cup justice to any and all who foolishly engaged her at the table. Fade in, back of the bar, 7 "Off in Public" flippers and one Amanda. What happened next is the stuff of legends: Amanda quickly downed and flipped two beers while "Off in Public" denied some 300,000 years of evolutionary intelligence by forgetting how to drink. Amanda dispatched another 3 beers while OIP busied themselves transitioning from a hunter-gatherer society into one based on agriculture and trade. The last of Amanda's cups hit the table and a roar went up from the Beatdown. "I've never really been good at anything my entire life, but I seem to have found my calling", says Amanda..."

8/29/06 (The team "Real Men Wear Green" hating on our drinking skills)
"...Real Men, I just saw your review of the last minutes of our so-called "game". I don't claim to be a crisis counselor, nor do I play one on TV, but here's what I gather from your unnecessary blow-by-blow description of what MAY have happened: as desperate as that story sounds (and we're talking 37-year-old-fiance-left-at-the-altar-desparation here), Real Men are even more frantic to cling to any morsel of glory from having stood at the same table as the Beatdown. We were open all night, and all you could bring were two players. You whine like some grade-school kid, freshly beat up by a fifth grader, sitting in the principal's office on the phone to your mommy. Let's match up again, and this time, we'll have a proper game with witnesses instead of an imaginary tea party in happy-fairy land..."