There used to be a softball team that I was tangentially involved with – it was run by the local Episcopal church, and was, consequently, named ‘The Episco-bats”.
(This was mostly because that episcopal church had a mascot. When it had gone through a remodel, a small bat had been found in the belltower, and been named ‘Archie’. ‘Archie the Episco-bat’ was definitely the best team mascot in the softball league. By *far*.)
This team had a very dedicated fanbase, that came up with pages of cheers, full of some truly inspiringly bad puns. (Literally pages. There were fan packs that got passed out, pages of cheers that had been printed off and stapled together.)
‘Bats in the bellfree, bats in the tower!
Bats in the diamond, Episcobat power!’
(Which is what gets stuck in my head, every time I think about bats.)
…Now, when I walk to work, I pass under this bridge.
Like many bridges, this bridge is inhabited by a colony of bats.
Walking underneath the thing truly smells awful, but, often, I get a break around sunset, and I can go out and watch the show.