reason 15

I actually had 15 as a different post, actually. 15 was supposed to be a look at the worst coach in the AFC West. That post just moved up a couple notches to 12, which is where this originally was.

Because reason 15 is more relevant given yesterday. I thought, prior to yesterday, that reason 12 would eventually work itself out. Which is why I was ready to drag reason 12 out until the Friday night pre-game party on the patio. Or at latest, the tailgate Saturday.

I just never expected the reason to be so ... well, natural? So ... unexpected? So ... perfectly normal? Like nothing ridiculous ever happened?

For the first time in at least two months, the person I consider (both then, and still now) my co-best friend and I were ... well, at least to me, co-best friends again.

No fighting yesterday. No back-handed, smart ass remarks against each other (of a completely hate-filled nature. Come on, me and DJ will always verbally throw down, just like me and G. If you can't make fun of those you love, well, who can you make fun of in a funny, laugh-out-loud manner?)

Yesterday, for the first time since early June, honestly since prior to the move out, it was old times at the pool yesterday. Not just old times, it was GREAT old times.

If only for a couple beers.

So reason 15 ... is a tribute to the past, and to the present, and hopefully to the future, that I love about football season. And any season for that matter.

The greatness that is ... Dusty J.

"The kid" I will always call "champ".

I just ... I really can't explain yesterday. For a few months now, Dusty and I have been at each other's throats. And while the last few weeks have been better, even peaceful, it just didn't feel right. I broke up with his girlfriend's best friend a few months ago. (So I'm sure I started the downward spiral. That amongst other "Steve overreacts" moments. But still).

Until yesterday, even seeing DJ in the lobby at work, was a tension filled "don't say something you'll regret" exercise on both of our parts.

Can't explain it, like I said. But yesterday felt like ... like it should. Like one of my best friends showing up, having a beer or two, shooting the shit, and moving on to his next destination. It felt ... it just felt right.

I was hoping, praying, this kind of thing would happen with football season on the horizon. Because I don't want to imagine a tailgate without Dusty. I love this kid to death. Even at my most pissed off moments, I always stressed that "I will always love you as my friend". I love the kid. He gave me a place to stay when G got married. We had one helluva night of fun evicting "deadbeat". And he had my back through many crappy episodes of my life the last couple years, far more than he had any reason to stand behind me for. He's a good, decent, amazing person. (Kellie, as the great Buddy Ryan once noted, "you've got a winner in town!")

A "winner" who doesn't know the meaning of "modesty" either, thankfully:

(chargers game 2006)
(6:32 am)
(steve's phone) (rings)
(steve) (buying bloody mary mix) hello?
(dj) hey buddy!
(steve) oh jesus. let me guess. you need a ride?
(dj) uuh, yeah, if you don't mind.
(steve) we're there by 7:30. I'll honk. If you aren't in the car by 7:32, we leave.
(dj) I'll be on the deck.

And on the deck he was. As hung over as the rest of us. But still clawing, scratching, desperately finding a way to Arrowhead well before the gates opened for a must win game between playoff bound teams.

Because that's what die hards, like Dusty, do.

"The kid" is the complete opposite of me, mr. "sit on the couch until 'strokey dick clark' is on the air". We are complete opposites in just about everything. He loves MU and Duke; I love KU and Syracuse. He's an "adopted" NBA fan; I worship the league. He's got a girlfriend even a blind man would drool over ... and I broke up with said droolable girl.

But we share one thing in common.

The Chiefs. As noted in last year's denver recap:

* I got to the bus, t-shirt draped John Thompson style, covered in sweat and bite marks from stress ... and there's Dusty. "We f*cking did it!" Nothing says "first win in 344 days" like a freaking man hug with the roommate.

Seriously champ, I hope yesterday was the end of the shitstorm. It was to me. I fucked up, you may have fucked up, I definitely fucked up by not editing fucked up in the last three sentences. But man, I miss you champ. I miss ya kid. Yesterday, I think we got past it. Even Mona noted "Wow, you two seemed to be friends for the first time all summer". If I'm feeding Mona vodka laced drinks and she gets it, I'm not misreading this.

Welcome back champ. Sorry I fucked it up so much that it came to what it did. I was wr ... wr ... wr ... well, I was certainly incorrect, any way you want to spell it. Even if "wrong" is how you do.

I fucked up man. I went too far. ("hopefully" dusty voice) ya think tito? ya really think? Nah, its cool pal. I got your back. I always do tito.

Thank God. We need you in 135. Someone has to assume my role over there. I can't think of anyone more qualified than you.

Chiefs fans, rest assured. He'll be there. Every week. Section 135. The kid knows his shit, he'll show up for kickoff.

And hopefully well prior to kickoff in Lot G, by the port-a-potty, in the grassy area across from Lot J, enjoying a jello shot or five and wondering what in the hell Tracey's latest dance craze she's leading us in is ...