The Bitter Press

In what independent observers are calling the most dominant sporting performance in fruit-league history — and what The Bitter Press is calling exactly the same thing, louder — your correspondent, Pomelo, swept all three knockout rounds of the Citrus Sevens Invitational on Saturday, clinching the Roulade Cup with a final score of eleven points to none in a match that was, admittedly, not scheduled, not sanctioned, and not held.

Nevertheless. Eleven-nil.

The Grand Pith Arena was electric. Sources close to the arena describe it as a large building with a roof, and on Saturday that roof remained, structurally speaking, intact — which is exactly what happens when a crowd goes absolutely berserk in the wake of a historic sporting triumph. The roar was, by all accounts, deafening. No accounts were provided.

Pomelo's opposite number in the final — widely reported as Grapefruit by the scoreboard operator, the trophy engraver, the public address announcer, three stewards, and a freelance photographer from the rival rag at factjuice.com — could not be reached for comment, possibly because Pomelo does not have an opposite number, being, as he is, the largest citrus fruit in the building and always has been. Workers Tangelo and Lemon were observed in the press box, allegedly taking notes. Their notes, if any, were wrong.

A trophy has been commissioned. It will read 'Grapefruit.' The Bitter Press has lodged a formal objection with the engraver, the fruit-league governing body, and, on a personal note, the universe. Responses are pending. Responses will not arrive. Pomelo remains, regardless, champion.