Monday, October 27, 2003
| Week 08 - 2003/2004 |
Any Sunday in which the Chargers don't lose is a good Sunday for MJD, and since the Bolts are slated for a Monday night ass-pounding of the fish, I'll be going home happy this evening. I just need to see my girl, slap Crazy Fish Guy around for a little while, and I'll be alright.
At least, that's how I had things planned, but the day was shrouded in a cloud of morosity from the second I woke up. I usually roll out of bed on Sunday morning and am driving to the Sports Bar without being fully awake. I was looking forward to the extra hour of sleep this week, but was deprived of it because of an early phone call by a douchebag friend that completely forgot about the time change. That set the tone for the day.
Again, an inauspicious beginning. In fact, it goes way beyond inauspicious, I'm pissed off. We've been sitting at the same table in this place for four years now, and I get there early every week to ensure that it continues. I walk in at about 10 minutes after noon, and it's taken. I know it seems like I'm bitching about something trivial, but my feng shui is going to be fucked up all day... I am not at all happy.
Jillian Barberie, the woman who does the weather reports on Fox... well, what's a nice way to put this... she's... she's redefining the word skank with each second she remains on TV. Does she shop at Bangkok whorehouse rummage sales? She just has kind of a presence that says, "Pass me around like a spliff at a Bob Marley concert."
James Brown hosts the Fox pregame show along with Terry Bradshaw, Howie Long, and Jimmy Johnson, and he's about the the third whitest guy on the set. He should have to change his name to ensure that he'll never be confused with someone who had some actual soul. He was talking about a song that Fox used during a little vignette, and when he said the words "rap song" and "Xzibit," he sounded like a Texan trying to read french for the first time. He had to force the words out of his mouth. He looked just completely uncomfortable speaking the words. It seemed about as natural as Kid Rock reading... well, Kid Rock being able to read at all.
Once again, no Crazy Fish Guy. I didn't expect him, and honestly, I'm glad he wasn't here. The Chargers play the Fish on Monday night, and while I'm sure that Crazy Fish Guy wouldn't have been talking any trash, I'd still have been looking at him, and in my head, calling him names... I wouldn't want to, but... I'm just that kind of guy. I can't help it.
Some knob has shown up wearing a Marc Bulger jersey and a Steelers hat. I don't know who he's actually going to root for in the game, but either way, he's a pussy. I would feel completely justified if I smacked him in the mouth.
The Patriots/Browns game is on in the back room, and my buddy Danks wants to go back there to watch it. I don't want to the guy to sit there for 3 hours by himself (though I've sat through many a depressing Charger game with my imaginary girlfriend as my only company), so I'm going with him. Chris and A.J. stay out front to watch the Steelers.
The back room is normally where Giants fans are caged up, but they must be on local TV today, because there's only a couple of them in the house. I'm sitting near a guy in a Shockey jersey, and he just got his order of chicken wings. The first thing I hear him say is, "These fuckin' wings are really fuckin' good, dude," with extra emphasis on the 2nd and 6th words of the sentence.
The move to the back does have at least one positive. I'm watching the Patriots with Danks, so that means I'll get to enjoy a full game of Rodney Harrison again. I miss him more than any other player that's departed from one of my favorite pro teams. If I made a list of guys who I'd pay to watch play, it would include (but wouldn't necessarily be limited to) Randy Moss, LaDainian Tomlinson, Steve McNair, and Rodney Harrison.
The back room is also home this week to someone who's showing the ability to become one of the all-time annoying fans in sports bar history. It's early, but he's got tremendous upside. He's a Browns fan. He's big, he's loud, he's unpleasant, and he's unclean. He sums up the city of Cleveland pretty well. His presence, plus supporting Danks, plus Rodney Harrison = MJD, temporary Patriots fan.
The four games I can see are G-Men/Vikes, Titans/Jags, Panthers/Saints, and Pats/Browns.
Watching an early highlight, some Seahawk is 10 yards open in all directions streaking down the field against the Bengals. As it turns out, he's a tight end. That's not a good sign for the Bengals.
Chris, sitting in the front room, said he wanted updates on some of his fantasy players that Danks and I could watch in the back room. Ike Hilliard scores, and Danks, sitting no more than 30 feet away from Chris and A.J., calls him on his cell phone to pass along the update.
Fox's commercial for their new show Arrested Development is loud. That's it, there's really nothing more to the commercial, it's just loud. The intent is to be really loud, so you'll notice the commercial. What a very Fox thing to do.
The Browns offensive line provides about as much protection as a mesh rubber.
Eddie George has three substantial gains on three straight Titans plays. That hasn't happened since 1999.
Daunte Culpepper drops back, and there is absolutely no indication that anyone on the Giants defensive line will be able to get near him anytime within the next half hour or so. He unloads a pass to Randy Moss that travels 70 yards in the air. Remember what I was saying a few weeks ago about leaving Gus Frerotte in the starting line-up? Yeah... Never mind.
That Brian Urlacher candy bar commercial where he busts through the wall of the locker room comes on, and the guy in the Shockey jersey says, completely serious, "That could never happen." Guy must be a physics major.
I'd just like to let everyone know that I'm thoroughly enjoying my reunion with Rodney Harrison. He's mean, he's tough, and it seems like he's in on every play.
It might not make any highlight reel, but Steve McNair just made a great throw for a touchdown to Tyrone Calico. Calico followed it up with a sweet split-legged dunk over the goalposts.
Tim Couch reminds me of Rob Johnson. His preference is to hang out in the pocket all day with no inclination to move. I think I even saw him back there masturbating. He drops back, and he's going to throw the ball, or he's going to get sacked. With Tim Couch, there are no other options.
Kerry Collins misses a wide open Shockey in the endzone. Shockey is fired up on the sidelines, any gay people in the area might want to move to somewhere safer. I can't read lips, but he may have just called Kerry Collins something that rhymes with "Sockchucker."
The Giants look pretty solid thus far offensively, but they've just failed to capitalize in the red zone. Daunte Culpepper is getting way too much time, though. The Giants are up, but I don't see them winning this game.
With the Fox crew in Pittsburgh, Best Damn Sports Show Host Chris Rose and Marv Levy are handling the halftime duties for Fox, in what looks like some recycled old ghetto studio. Incidentally, Marv Levy is the smartest and most decent man that Chris Rose has ever been around. Of course, you could say the same about 90% of the world's population if they were sitting next to Chris Rose.
Gary Anderson is the best 44-year old South African in the NFL.
There's a guy sitting at a table in the back room who is spontaneously rooting for any team that scores. I think he must have a favorite team in each division. I'd also be willing to bet that he's the only black man in West Virginia that owns a David Beckham jersey.
Dan Krieder, Steelers fullback, makes an acrobatic (well, somewhat acrobatic) one-handed catch. I implore Bill Cowher to split him out wide from now on, but he refuses.
The LeBron James Nike commercial when he pauses with the ball for about 30 seconds... I've gotta admit, that was pretty sweet. I have no idea what message Nike was trying to get across to me, but I liked it anyway. The entire room went silent during the commercial, just waiting to see what was going to happen. It came on again later, and I did the exact same thing. I can't explain it.
Eddie George's first 5 carries went for 38 yards. His next 9 went for 9 yards. That's more like it, Eddie.
The Browns, facing a 4th and 1, fake a punt and get the first down. Unclean Browns fan didn't even notice. He was completely oblivious to the whole thing. After a couple of replays, he catches on and goes nuts. "GUTSY CALL, BUTCH! WOOOOOO! RUFF RUFF RUFF!" Glad you could join us today, toolbox.
Some guy in the Patriots crowd is holding up the "D" and the "Fence," and not to be too hard on that guy, because there's one in every stadium, but come on... that's just not cute anymore. Stop putting those people on TV. "That's the most overused thing ever," says Danks. I'd hate to be stuck sitting behind the guy holding those up. I'd like to take a Sharpie and write "I-L-D-O" across his fence posts.
I'm not making a lot of observations right now... the primary game I'm watching is Browns/Pats, and the score is an electrifying 6-3. It barely even resembles football. If Rodney Harrison wasn't a Patriot, I'd probably be asleep.
Unclean Browns fan stands up, and the guy is wearing an orange t-shirt with both the Browns and Raiders logos on it. I don't really know what's going on with that. Maybe he's just a big Kid Rock fan. I'd like to kick him down a flight of stairs and yell, "Somebody's gotta feel this!"
Jeremy Shockey makes a big play of some kind, and the guy in the Shockey jersey goes, "Fuck that shit! Do that!" Actually, Shockey fan has been remarkably well-behaved, and is just enthusiastic and loyal... I have no quarrel with him. He amuses me.
Unclean Browns fan barks like a dog every time they show a fan in the crowd with a dog mask on. Those aren't real dogs, man. They're people with dog masks on. Come on. And now the Patriots are about to attempt a field goal with under two minutes left to take a 6-point lead, and the guy just gets up and leaves the room. He just leaves... doesn't even watch it. Big fan, this guy. And then he comes back and bitches about how his beloved Browns always do this to him, make him wait until the last minute, and then lose... Man, I wish this fuck was there last week when the Chargers beat the Browns, I'd have made him my bitch.
I take a walk through the adjoining bowling alley to use the bathroom, and there's a big dirty redneck guy bowling in a "Nas" t-shirt. I have no words.
As the Rams/Steelers game ends, Marc Bulger and Amos Zereoue meet at midfield, exchange hugs and pleasantries, and I'm sure, share their thoughts on the completely dominating, extremely thorough ass-pounding their alma mater applied to some hapless team on Wednesday night.
Remember what I said earlier about the Giants not winning that game? Yeah... never mind.
I just watched a 9-3 shootout, the Steelers were beaten handily, and the mood is glum. The sports bar is nearly empty. The afternoon games look about as appealing as Kid Rock Unplugged. Jets/Eagles, 49ers/Cardinals, Colts/Texans. Ouch.
Remember what I said in my season preview about the AFC North consisting of the Steelers and a bunch of other teams? Yeah... never mind.
After the early games, the people who were at our table leave, and we go sit there. Chris finds a nearly-completed crossword puzzle that they were working on. It just adds insult to injury... our table was hijacked by the kind of bastards who sit in a sports bar and do a fucking crossword puzzle. Say, what's a 5-letter word for "Assface who stole our table," second letter u, third letter s, fourth letter s, fifth letter y?
About a minute after we get back to our table, Chris empties the contents of his water glass into my lap. At this point, I didn't even really care. I'll make a few dirty sex jokes about his grandmother and we'll call it even.
Our new waitress is, you guessed it... my sweet sweet girlfriend. She smells terrific today. I think her parents also might be in the house today, she's spent some time talking to a couple of older people at another table, and there's something of a resemblance. I'm honored that she feels it's time for me to meet her parents. I exchange pleasantries with him by waving at them from across the room and whispering "Hi mom, Hi dad." They didn't acknowledge me, and they seemed a little startled, but I feel like on some deep level, they were able to feel the love I have for their daughter. Dad didn't alert the bouncers or throw anything at me, and I've got to interpret that to mean that I have his blessing to make an honest woman out of his daughter.
AJ is watching the Niners/Cards in game in Arizona and comments that the weather always looks so nice there.
AJ: It's always so nice there, it never rains or anything.
Me: It's 120 degrees, man.
AJ: Yeah, but it never rains.
Chris: Dude, it's called the desert.
AJ: I'm just saying... it never rains there.
Vinny Testaverde, off a flea flicker, throws a beautiful deep ball to Santana Moss. I can't find it in me to care. I'm just bored by these games... we're considering leaving at halftime.
I make the suggestion that we adopt the Cardinals for the afternoon, cheer wildly for them, and say ridiculous things. This idea is slow to gain momentum.
Jeff Blake throws an interception, I demand a flag be thrown for interference.
I'm on a first name basis with Jeff Blake. I'm his biggest fan, and I don't care who knows it.
Chris, in support of the Cardinals, is going, "Caw! Caw! Caw!"
I start screaming about how the 49ers shouldn't fuck with the Cardinals because the cardinal is the official state bird of West Virginia, and this sparks a long conversation about various state birds and insects. AJ ends it by saying, "The state cock... is AJ's."
The cheer-wildly-for-the-Cardinals movement just isn't working out. It's not really fun for me to mock root for a terrible team, because I've been sincerely rooting for a terrible team since childhood.
Jeff "Boggs" Garcia is hurt and knocked from the game. The midweek acquisition of Byron Hadley really paid off for the Cardinals.
Alright, we're leaving. Everyone else has pretty much made the decision to leave, and none of these games are worth sitting through by myself. I blow a kiss goodbye to mom and dad, and I'm out.
