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Rebranding the National League in the style of the XFL

The XFL is breaking new ground at the intersection of sports and poetry.

Press Conference To Announce A Major International Event At MetLife Stadium Photo by John W. Ferguson/WireImage

On Wednesday, the resurrected XFL unveiled the team names and logos of the eight teams, and ooh baby, are they something. If you haven’t seen them already, take a gander.

It’s saying something when the best logo of the bunch might be the Tennessee Oilers logo drawn at a weird perspective.

I don’t want to drag them too hard because trying to think of a good sports team name is tough. All of the good ones have been taken by teams in the various sports leagues from MLB to Overwatch League. Coming up with something original, edgy, and which fits the city is a fool’s errand, so that’s how we end up with a team called the St. Louis BattleHawks even though there are no BattleHawks in St. Louis or anywhere.

The names aren’t great, and that left one writer with a nigh impossible task: write a release that makes these teams sound cool as hell.

That writer crushed that challenge.

If you can’t read the tweet, you can find the descriptions at the top of each team’s page on the XFL’s website. They are well worth your time to read. The Seattle Dragons description might be my favorite.

Rising from the turbulent sea. Beneath the darkening skies of their weather-hardened home. Relentless, ruthless, ravenous. Not of mythology, but of muscle and might. Not of folklore, but of football. This is your darkest fantasy…in cleats. The Seattle Dragons. Breathing fire.

This beautiful, center-aligned poetry has inspired me to write a description of every team in the National League.


Slicing through the water like a hot knife through so much butter. Their scales are silver. Their hearts gold. Noses narrowed to a point, they skewer their prey. These pelagic predators have only one goal: to kill. The Miami Marlins. Fierce and fishy.


New York. The big apple. The huge orange. The gargantuan papaya. The gigantic kiwi. The humongous cherry. The enormous banana. The regular-sized durian fruit, but those are still pretty big. A rutabaga as big as your head. The New York Mets. They’re from New York.


Determination. Valor. Vigor. Vigilance. Patriotism. Endurance. These are the characteristics of a National. You can’t prove they aren’t. The Washington Nationals. Coast to coast.


A shimmering palamino. A delicious cheesesteak. A muppet with a hot dog cannon. Phillies can take many forms, but they are always champions. So long as the year is 2008. The Philadelphia Phillies. Once more into the breach.


Don’t let their size fool you. These birds mean business. Their feathers are the color of blood. That’s because they spill so much of it. Blood? Blood. Ruby red blood. Your blood. Blood. This is the worst day of your life. The St. Louis Cardinals. High in the pecking order.


OBP. OPS. IBU. Where science meets art meets baseball. This is beer country. Between foul poles. This is Oktoberfest. From April to October. Crack open a cold one with the boys. Crack open the skulls of your opponents. The Milwaukee Brewers. High in ABV.


They were the first. They’ll be the last. Alpha and Omega. Tradition. Innovation. Omnipresent warriors on the baseball field of battle. Red legs. Stained with blood. The Cincinnati Reds. The Original Red Socks.


Mottled brown fur. Tendrils of saliva dripping from razor sharp teeth. These may be babes, but these ursine warriors are born to kill. Don’t creep into their den and don’t you dare touch their porridge. Lest you want to lose a limb. The Chicago Cubs. Just right.


A notch in the cutlass for every victory. Bells braided in black beards. A wooden leg. In cleats. A cheeky parrot for comedic relief. Terrors of the three rivers. Mercenaries from the maelstrom. No parley. No mercy. No regard for copyright law. The Pittsburgh Pirates. Y’argh!


A badass brown robe. A terrifying tonsure. A cask of homemade wine. These holy dads can be your savior… or your demise. Divine defenders of light and truth leading an indiscriminate inquisition. Unbelievers beware. The San Diego Padres. Who’s your daddy?


Tectonic titans. The teeth of Spiritus Mundi. Monoliths of madness. Only a select few can reach the Rocky Mountain heights. A simultaneously verdant and craggy utopia where everything is legal. The Colorado Rockies. Fire and rain.


Coiled in hatred. Seething with rage. Rattling with rancor. Hissing with… meanness. These sneaky snakes will find a way into your home. They’ll crawl into your boots. Through your ventilation system. Up through your toilet. The Arizona Diamondbacks. Instilling irrational fears.


Quick as summer lightning. Deft as a lover’s hand. Try to hit these boys with something. Anything. You can’t. They’ll dodge it. Their supine bodies evade all projectiles, trolleys, ballistic objects, et cetera. The Los Angeles Dodgers. Just generally elusive.


Fee fi fo fum. This isn’t a fairy tale, this is baseball. These boys are much larger than the average boy. They’ll grind your bones to make their bread. The San Francisco Giants. Quite large!