“Midnight.
Not a sound from the pavement.
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone.
In the lamplight,
The withered leaves collect at my feet.
And the wind begins to moan.
Memory.
All alone in the moonlight.
I can dream of the old days!
Life was beautiful then.
I remember the time I knew
What happiness was.
Let the memory live again …”
-- “Memory”, from Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical “Cats”, best performed by Barbra Streisand, but also well done by Jason Castro in season seven of “American Idol” …
--------------------------------
Well, give the Chiefs this -- they pretty much let us know right
off the bat yesterday that this was going to be a baffling, ridiculous,
absolutely unconscionable afternoon of football when the worst hire in
franchise history (that would be current head coach Romeo Crennel, forever more
to be referred to on this site as “Coach Baffoon”) tossed a challenge flag
after a long Chargers reception on the first drive of the game.
Was Coach Baffoon challenging whether the catch was valid? OF COURSE NOT! Was the catch valid? Of COURSE IT WAS! What, pray tell, was the challenge for then?
Because Coach Baffoon felt the Chargers had gotten six additional
yards on the spot of the reception.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, peoples and peepettes, fellow Chiefs fans
and haters, our idiotic, moronic head coach challenged the spot of the
reception, on the first drive of the game.
Set aside the fact that Coach Baffoon actually won the challenge, and managed to
"gain" a whopping six yards for his defense. Here's my first question of the day: Coach? What in the HELL were you thinking
there? You do realize you only get two
challenges in a game, right? (Fine,
fine, three if you win the first two, but you’re only guaranteed two.)
It seems to me, hell, it seems obvious to EVERYONE other than you
sir, that when you have a very finite amount of challenges available to
you? You sure as ALL HELL DO NOT WASTE
ONE OF THEM ON A SIX YARD SPOT QUESTION!
Jesus f*cking Christ, did that really happen? Did our head coach really challenge whether a
long reception was 21 yards good, or 27 yards good, when the spot (a) did not
overturn a first down gained, (b) did not move the Chargers out of field goal
range, and (c) did not have ONE DAMNED BIT OF IMPACT on the game?
Other than to confirm to whatever last vestiges of Arrowhead
Nation are preaching objectivity about Coach Baffoon, that their argument has
no merit – the man is a f*cking baffoon!
You laugh, but that was my EXACT reaction when he chucked the flag
-- I literally slammed my hand down on the back of the seat in front of me and
released a very audible "Jesus f*cking Christ, please tell me he's not
doing this!*"
And that, sadly, was one of the high points of yesterday's game,
because Romeo won his challenge. An incredible
coaching brain fart that should have led to rioting in the stands, was the high
point of the contest!
Good. F*cking. God.
(*: I tried to warn Damien, who sat next to me yesterday, that I
get into Chiefs games. I don’t think he
was prepared for a “Jesus f*cking Christ!” hand slap not even two minutes into
the game. To be fair? Not even I saw one coming that soon into a
game.)
Let's do this, if only as a therapeutic release for me.
* We got there a little bit before seven yesterday. There were 8 of us on the bus, and plenty
more coming later. Really guys -- this
team doesn't deserve us. They truly
don't. This team doesn't deserve
dedicated die-hard fans who pay thousands of dollars to watch this craptacular
franchise do its thing. This team, this
franchise, this owner, this GM, this head coach, this quarterback, these
players, deserve 78,625 empty seats, about 150 empty luxury boxes, and the
broadcast booth to be unmanned during the contest. That's what they deserve. That's what they've earned.
If you choose to never return for the rest of the season, good for
you. I wish I could do that. But as I've noted many times before, I am the
worst kind of fan there is. I'm too
blinded by love and loyalty to give this franchise what it deserves, which is
me cutting it out of my life. But if you
can do it, if you can exercise this demon that is posing as the Kansas City
Chiefs? Please, do it. These guys don't deserve us. They deserve two gigantic middle fingers
while shouting obsenities at each and every member of this organization, up to
and including ...
* the parking attendants in Lot G.
Let me set the scene. It's a
little before 8am. The gates have just
opened. Glenn (the guy who guides
traffic in the main pathway between G and H) has waved the bus through (since
the Chiefs do not allow buses to park in the actual parking lot anymore. Thanks guys!
No really, Hunt Family, Scott Pioli, Romeo Crennel, and your overpaid
and worthless "talent" posing as a roster, to say nothing of the freaking
joke that is the Jackson County Sports Commission Authority (stealing our tax dollars to pay the Royals and Chiefs payroll taxes since at least 2006!!!), really -- you guys are the
best!)
Anyways, Glenn has let the bus
through, and Russ is clearly turning around in Lot G, to pull onto the grass
pointing out, to make it easier to leave after the game.
Out of nowhere, a Lot G parking attendant comes hauling ass in my
direction, shouting "what the f*ck are you doing! You cannot park here! You cannot park here!" Now, I know I love the f bomb (and fair warning: it will be gratuitously used going forward in this fourteen page post) ... but really? Before you assess the situation, you come up and
tell your paying customers "what the f*ck are you doing!" Really, Chiefs parking guy? Really?
Thanks buddy.
This was followed shortly by another parking moron hauling ass to
berate me as I moved a cone out of the way to allow the Bus to pull onto the
grass. As I told moron number two:
“fine! Next week, we won’t be polite --
we’ll just run over your goddamned cones!
As many as we can take out!”
This organization truly employs nothing but the dullest and
dumbest in our fine city.
* Once we got the tailgate set up, me, Anthony and Jaimmie headed
down to the Team Store. I needed a new
windbreaker, and had seen one on the Chiefs Shop website for $45. I figured I'd buy it yesterday, to ensure I
get the 10% discount as a season ticket holder.
Plus, it’s supposed to turn colder later this week, through GameDay next
weekend, so it made sense to buy one.
Plus, I also wanted to see the thing first, before committing $50 some
odd dollars to it.
So, we arrive at the Team Store, and in a surprise to absolutely
noone, it wasn't open yet. Despite
advertising that "the Team Store is open whenever the parking lots
are", uum, yeah, they weren't. But,
I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, since the gates did open a
half hour early, and figured they'd open close to 8:30, and all would be well.
Uum, no.
FORTY MINUTES LATER, as in 8:50am, a full FIFTY MINUTES after the
gates opened, the Chiefs finally open the store to the public. But not before a few more insults were dumped
on anyone seeking to give their money away to this wretched franchise. First, we had to be wanded down to enter the
store. Yes, Chiefs fans, to simply shop
at the Team Store now requires a full on metal detection search. I was irate.
And that? Was probably the least
offensive thing about the visit to said Team Store.
So, we finally get in and start looking around. I ask an employee about the windbreaker I'd
seen online, and this conversation ensues.
(employee) well, I'm sorry to tell you this sir, but we don't
carry that here (at the Team Store).
(stevo) what?
(employee) we actually carry only about 20 or 30% of what you can
buy online.
(stevo) well that sucks.
Makes sense, but still sucks.
(employee) well, perhaps you would be interested in another item
...
Of course, all the "other items" in the windbreaker
department consisted of a couple youth options, a couple female options, and
two male windbreakers.
One for $105.99, one for $94.99.
So, as I'm standing there deciding if I want to get raped with a
stick (the $95 option) or in the prison shower by some big black dude named
Bubba (the $105 option), the Chiefs choose to keep piling on the insults, as
this conversation ensues:
(employee) sir, may I see your ticket please?
(stevo) what?
(employee) you have to have a ticket to today's game to be in
here.
(stevo) (beyond incredulous) are you kidding me?
(employee) no sir. I need
to see your ticket.
So, I haul out my card, and the employee tries to scan it. I immediately stop him:
(stevo) wait! If you scan
that now, will I still be able to get in a couple hours from now?
(employee) what? (in his
defense, he wasn’t angry; he legitimately did not understand what I was saying.)
(stevo) Well, that card gets scanned when we enter the stadium,
right? If you scan it now, how will I be
able to get in later? There's only one
ticket for today on there!
(employee) I'm sure it will be fine. (scans card).
I grab the $95 coat, head over and pay*, wait for Anthony and
Jaimmie to check out, then head back up to the Bus. Upon reaching said bus, and attempting to
explain why it took almost an hour to buy one item, I grab a huge beer tumbler,
crack open a bottle of champagne, and fill the 22oz cup up to the top, with a
splash of OJ on top. I earned it.
(*: the very nice lady who checked me out, had witnessed my prior
two "customer service" experiences with her fellow employees. She gave me double the STH discount, as she
took 20% off for the inconvenience. Well,
that's a relief. So a $95 windbreaker ran me barely $90 after taxes. At least one person
working at One Arrowhead Drive has an IQ above room temperature, and a
positive, customer-friendly attitude.
One out of what, 500?)
* Not much to report for the rest of tailgating. The menu was assorted grilled chicken, cheezy
hashbrowns, some kind of salad I avoided, and some liquid courage. Slowly yet surely, the rest of the regulars
started to show up. Gregg and his lovely
sister, my brother and his father in law, Dusty and Kellie*, Damien, and a
couple co-workers of mine. Good
times.
(*: from the “what was he smoking” file: when I talked to Dusty on
Friday, he swore they would “be out there early”. They showed up at 10:15. Even building in an extra 10, 15 minutes to
pick up Doc, uum … if showing up with less than an hour to go before tailgating
packs up is “arriving early”, I’d hate to see what “fashionably late” is.)
* About 11:15, we packed it up and headed in. Fortunately, my season ticket card did
scan. If it hadn't, you would have seen
riot-like conditions at Gate H, that's for sure.
* After a quick stop at the bano, and grabbing a Coors Light, we
arrived at our seats. Sadly, the two
guys I liked at the Falcons game weren’t behind me yesterday. Instead, it was some dude and his lady who
kept getting up every two minutes to hit the concession stand or the bathroom*. Ridiculous.
Good God, I have the smallest bladder known to man, and even I can hold
it until there’s a timeout on the field.
(*: from the “whoa! I’m not
completely insane!” department: when Doc and I hit up the bano on the way to
our seats, he dropped the “you know, I miss the troughs. The line moved so much faster with those
things”. A-FREAKING-MEN! Jesus, I’ve been saying that for five years
now! Were they sanitary? Hell no!
Did they reek to high heaven?
Hell yes! Did you get in and out
of the bathroom at least 50% faster than you do with individual urinals? Oh HELL yes!
Bring! Back! The!
Troughs!)
* According to the email the Chiefs send to season ticket holders
before each home game, the Anthem was supposed to be done by some lady I’d
never heard of. Uum, no, no it
wasn't. The Anthem was performed (quite
well) by "American Idol" finalist Skylar Laine*. I had no complaints ... up until they
revealed who was standing behind her on the field.
Eric Church.
(*: another reason I like Doc as much as I do: he hauled out “hey,
she was on “Idol” last year, wasn’t she?” comment before I could even confirm
it. So there’s two straight white guys
who watch “Idol”! Suh-weet! Take THAT, fourteen year old girl texting
your votes in every week! Also, we got off onto politics for awhile, and we're both backing Romney, which led to me noting "I think he (Romney) will win Missouri ... as long as we keep Mickey and his family away from the polls. Doc's response: "Yeah! I swear to God, the election is Wednesday November 7th! I swear, it got moved back a day!" 36 painful days to go folks. Only 36 painful days to go!)
But let me back up, and attempt to get this straight. You have a bona fide, certified gigantic
superstar on the field, next to a mic, and you DON'T ask him to perform? Who the hell makes the decisions in the Chiefs
front office, Mickey Mouse*? Goofy? Rolf**?
I mean, good Lord guys! You have
Eric Church on the field. There's a mic
10 feet from him. And you DON'T ask him
to perform? In the words of John Candy
in "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles", "what a moron!"
(*: gives me a chance to haul out my second favorite Robert
Montgomery Knight quote of all time, in reference to the NCAA: "I'd like
to call this a Mickey Mouse operation, but I don't want to insult Mickey
Mouse." There's comedy, there's
high comedy, and then there's a Bobby Knight press conference.)
(**: my favorite Muppets, in order: Rolf, the Swedish Chef, Fozzie
the Bear, and the two old critics in the balcony. Whose lines in the greatest TV theme song of
all time certainly bear repeating when it comes to the 2012 Chiefs: “why do we always come here? I guess we’ll never know. It’s like a kind of torture, to have to watch the show!”)
* Oh but wait, it gets better.
That email from the Chiefs promised us a "historic" B25
flyover. Now, you all probably know my
position on flyovers. (In case you
don't, I believe they're the second biggest waste of money known to man, second
only to strip clubs.) So on the bright
side, at least a couple seasoned citizens will get their Medicaid and Social
Security benefits this month by our local, state, and federal municipalities
pissing away a couple hundred thousand on a stupid, pointless exercise.
But there were a good number of people infuriated that there was
no flyover.
(dramatic pause as the light bulb clicks to the “on” position …)
I think I'm starting to get it folks! I really do!
The Chiefs PROMISE you one thing, and SELL you something ENTIRELY DIFFERENT
from what they promised! They promise us
some no-name Anthem singer; we get Skylar Laine ... and should have had Eric
Church. They promise you a flyover;
there is no flyover.
And they promised to field a competitive, talented roster that was
a threat to beat anyone come January.
The only thing these 53 underachievers and their worthless coaches are
going to be beating in January, is their most private of parts, to whatever
porno they're watching.
This team is just horrendous.
I mean, I can deal with losing. I
can deal with failure, with disappointment.
I cannot, and will not, deal with utter incompetence. And the Chiefs, from the 53rd man on the roster,
straight up to the most important man in the organization, are utterly
incompetent. They are devoid of even a
small semblance of a clue as to what makes a successful franchise, both on and
off the field. They are utterly
incompetent.
Utterly. And
completely. Incompetent.
Somehow, I don't think that's gonna be the team's marketing slogan
anytime soon ... even if it is utterly and completely true.
* Nice ovation for Bill Leavy and his crew yesterday during the
coin toss. Welcome back guys.
* One quick moment where I deviate from the abject negativity,
anger, and rage this franchise has driven so many of us to, and in my case,
well, in the words of Al Michaels, "Stevo is apoplectic". THANK YOU, Chiefs organization, for returning
the Ring of Honor. I know this is a
stupid, petty, absolutely dumb place to draw a line in the sand ... but the
Ring NEVER should have been removed.
(Yet another glaring example of just how clueless this franchise's
decision makers are). So if I'm going to
spend the previous three pages, and the next ten to eleven pages, ripping your
pathetic organization a new one, I at least need to recognize when you do
something right.
And returning the Ring of Honor, is an absolute good. Thanks for that guys.
Now bring back Patti DiParto-Livergood and the TD Pack Band, and
maybe I’ll overlook just how god awful the Pioli regime has been.
(And please, spare me the “he inherited a mess of a roster”. Really?
And Carl Peterson DIDN’T? Carl’s
first four years: 8-7-1, first team out.
11-5, wildcard. 10-6, divisional
round. 10-6, wildcard. Pioli’s first four years? 4-12 doormat.
10-6 wildcard round. 7-9. and 1-3 and fading fast. We’re rapidly approaching that point where I
have to haul out the Al Gore line from his 1992 acceptance speech at the DNC
when discussing everyone affiliated with this god-awful team: “the clock is
ticking, and it is time. It’s time for
them to go!”)
Now back to trainwreck that is the 2012 Chiefs ...
* Chargers win the toss, choose to receive. That's what smart, well coached, well run
franchises do: they make the right call.
I mean, let that previous sentence sink in. We faced an opponent yesterday that is
coached by arguably THE biggest failure to get multiple shots at the head gig
in NFL history. Nobody respects Norv
Turner as a head coach. NOBODY. And yet, if you had to play a game tomorrow,
and your two coaching options were Norv Turner or Coach Baffoon, who do you
pick?
I go for Turner every time, and twice on Game Day.
That's how low it's gotten at One Arrowhead Drive folks -- Norv
Turner is no longer the worst coach in the division. Christ, he might be the second best coach in
the division! (Also known as “the ONLY
reason any Chiefs fan has for optimism at this point”, the division is that
awful.)
We, the Chiefs? We employ
the village idiot now! Excuse me while I
find my HHH Memorial Sledge Hammer and bludgeon myself to near death ...
* Chargers first drive ... God above. If any one drive perfectly encapsilates (I think that's a word) what
the 2012 Chiefs are, it's this beauty.
The Chargers were 2 for 2 on third down.
They had first down gains of 14 and 12 yards. They drew not one, but TWO pass interference
calls on Eric Berry. And the capper --
after damaging the Chiefs by pounding former Chief Jackie Battle down our
throats, they conclude the drive by tossing a touchdown to a wide, wide open
eddie royal, the former donkey who killed the Chiefs for years at fake mile
high.
After that score, I turned to Damien and noted "this might be
the fastest trip back to the beer line of my life". I wasn't kidding -- I pounded the Coors Light
in about two minutes flat, that drive was so insulting.
This also was the drive that featured Coach Baffoon's baffling
challenge decision mentioned in the opening of this post, which did lead to one moment of funniness:
(damien) why doesn't Romeo hold the flag?
(stevo) huh? (honest to God
folks: I had not noticed this prior to Doc pointing it out.)
(damien) Romeo didn't toss the flag, that guy did! (points to an assistant coach)
(stevo) (flinging it against the wall and hoping it sticks) well, in Romeo's defense, he is pretty fat. He probably can't reach around to access his back
pocket!
(everyone) (laughs all around)
All that was missing was a towel joke, and you would have thought
Mark Mangino was the subject of conversation.
* The only other laughable moment in this game, was when the guy
next to Doc sat down*. He was wearing a
t-shirt that said "I'm available!
Just don't tell my girlfriend!"
OK, I thought it was funny. Then
again, I find watching dogs get it on with a human's leg to be funny, so what
do I know.
(*: this is a lie. There
was one more laugh out loud funny moment out of Doc, at the two minute warning
for the first half. The Chiefs
cheerleaders perform in these lovely “barely there” white outfits, and Damien
deadpans “I’d love to come home one night and see Shannon in that.” Made me laugh at least. Even if he was 100 percent serious about
that. And in his defense, he should
be. His wife’s very attractive, and that
outfit the cheerleaders were wearing, dear God.
They’d turn “Stevo’s Site Numero Dos”’s Official Gay Critiquer Donnie
straight as straight can be. And I'm gonna guess the last time this site's Gay Czar slept with a girl was with his mom when he was 7, 8 months old.)
* The Chiefs respond ... with turnover numero uno, a Cassel pick
that the Chargers return to the Chiefs 28.
Cue the boo birds.
* And before I forget, good job fans! Normally I'm not a fan of booing the home
team, but EVERYTHING about this franchise deserves to be booed. Hell, everything about this franchise needs
to be torched, burnt to the ground, and started over with new leadership and players
who give a crap (more on this when I get to the halftime remarks). So if you booed Matt Cassel yesterday? Good for you.
Because I was booing right along with you.
Middle fingers raised to boot.
* Chargers take advantage of the opportunity the Chiefs give them,
and kick a field goal to go up 10-0.
We're not even halfway through the quarter, and the warning signs are
already flashing in ugly red lights.
* Chiefs second possession sees two plays. The first, a false start on Tony Moeaki. The second, a fumble by Jamaal Charles that
the Chargers recover at the Chiefs 5. In
section 336, this hot-as-hell wanna-be writer buries his head in his hands,
shaking said head in disbelief.
Thankfully, Damien took advantage of the time out with the possession
change to buy another round of Coors Light*.
It was greatly appreciated, since ...
* Two Jackie Battle runs later, the Chargers lead 17-0, not even
ten minutes into the quarter. Yes, you
read that correctly -- not even ten minutes into the game, at a stadium once
known as the most feared stadium in sports, the home team is down 17, the home
crowd is booing vociferously, and fans are turning to booze and other assorted
products to deal with the depression that the stink on the field is inducing.
(*: Doc is my only friend who agrees with me, that Coors Light is
the best cheap domestic beer. I knew I
liked that guy!)
* The Chiefs get one first down before settling for a punt. Cassel's third down throw was insulting to
anyone with a basic knowledge of the sport.
He didn't progress through his receivers, he didn't check down, he
locked in on the safety valve and fired it to Baldwin 11 yards away from the
first down marker, apparently expecting Jon Baldwin to somehow drag five
defenders those 11 yards needed for the first down. Go figure, he couldn't.
That, to me, is THE single biggest complaint I have about Matt
Cassel. He's playing scared. Watch his feet this Sunday if you're among
the unfortunate many who will be there to witness yet another double-digit ass
whipping. Watch Cassel's feet. He is SCARED TO DEATH in that pocket. Scared.
To. Death. As soon as he can release the ball, he does. When your quarterback is playing scared, it's
a lost cause. And Matt Cassel is playing
scared.
* Finally, the Chiefs defense holds, and after a horrific punt by
Mike Scifres (who rarely if ever botches a punt), the Chiefs have it at their
own 21.
This, at that moment, is what I was thinking:
“OK guys, you've survived the worst quarter of your season. You showed last week that you can rally from
an insurmountable deficit. Let’s get
started.”
Uum, no. Not this week,
anyway.
On second down, Cassel appears to fumble the ball as he's
hit. Fortunately, Bill Leavy declined
the Chargers challenge, and gives the Chiefs a break and possession.
And then, on third down, well, in a nutshell, THIS is “Coach
Baffoon Football” at its apex.
3rd and 4. Cassel takes a
five step drop, and Dwayne Bowe is streaking wide open down the sideline. Cassel throws, actually hits Bowe in stride,
it's a 35 yard gain, and the Chiefs are in business. The stadium finally is cheering rather than
booing.
Oh, wait. It's the Coach
Baffoon coached Chiefs. So OF COURSE
Tony Moeaki is flagged for his second false start in as many drives, and
instead of the Chiefs having 1st and 10 at the Chargers 40, they've got 3rd and
9 at their own 20.
3rd and 9. Cassel drops
back ... fumble! Thankfully Eric Winston
recovers the fumble, allowing the Chiefs to punt (and avoiding the Chargers
having it inside our ten yard line for a second time). But that, folks, is your Coach Baffoon
coached Chiefs -- a flash of greatness destroyed by utter incompetence.
How, Mr. Moeaki, how in the hell do you get flagged, AT HOME, for
two false starts in 20 minutes? How, Mr.
Cassel, do you fumble twice in the same drive after being hit? (I thought the Chargers were valid to
challenge the "incompetion".)
And how, Mr. Baffoon, do you justify continuing to trot out these
same pathetic losers series after series, expecting a different result from
what they've delivered for you all season long up until now?
* Chargers kick a field goal to go up 20-0 with about 8 minutes
left in the half. I turn to Damien and
note "well, if we win this, it'll be the second week in a row we post the
biggest comeback in franchise history!"
Your Coach Baffoon coached 2012 Chiefs, everybody!!! (kazoo voice) (unsure whether to play or not
...)
* After the kickoff, the Chiefs take over at their 25. So let me set the scene: the Chiefs are
trailing 20-0. The fans are booing
mercilessly. It cannot get worse, right?
Wrong.
Cue turnover number four, as Jamaal Charles lays it on the ground
for his second fumble lost of the day.
We're barely 20 minutes into this game, and the Chiefs are already -4 in
the turnover category.
Good.
F*cking.
God.
* Somehow, the Chiefs defense rises to the occasion (this is the
third drive already San Diego has started inside the Chiefs 30), and Brandon
Flowers picks off a horribly thrown Rivers pass to temporarily halt the
Chargers momentum.
* And to the Chiefs credit, they capitalize, on one of the most amazing runs from scrimmage I've ever seen. Jamaal Charles, on a play designed to go offtackle right, is bottled up behind the line of scrimmage, and somehow breaks out of two would-be tacklers grasp, reverses field, and darts nearly 40 yards for the touchdown, and the key block that sprung the left side open was thrown by Matt Cassel of all people. Sometimes, one play can change a
game. We saw it last week -- Charles' 91
yard run after an interception got the comeback going. Now, here, yesterday, were we going to
witness the same thing?
* Of course not! Because as
only a Coach Baffoon team can do, the Chiefs botch the extra point. The snap bounces two yards short of the
holder, who then muffs the recovery, and the play ends with Ryan Succup tossing
an interception in the end zone. I swear
to Christ, clown college* isn't as goofy as a Coach Baffoon coached team is.
(*: hey, another pointless side point! My favorite clowns in order: the drunk clown
who shows up in the mouse car in “Uncle Buck”, Bozo (every person my age
watched Bozo on WGN every morning), Krusty, and ... uum … that’s about it. I count Coach Baffoon as a clown, but he’s
certainly not on any of my favorites lists.)
* After the Chargers draw a third defensive pass interference call
on the Chiefs, the D holds and forces a punt.
Scifres kicks it out of the end zone, and the Chiefs have it at their
20, only down 13, with a little over three minutes to go until the half, and
all three timeouts (plus the two minute warning) to work with. And the Chiefs get the ball at the half. For one brief, beautiful moment, an aura of
hope, of faith, of opportunity returned to the sacred grounds of Arrowhead.
And then Matt Cassel happened.
With a horrific "oh God no, he did NOT just throw
that!!!!" pass that lands in Donald Butler's hands, and 21 yards later,
the Chargers have extended the lead to 20 once again. Cue the rush for the exits. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the Chiefs were so
awful yesterday that at least half the people there were leaving BEFORE
HALFTIME. On Alumni Day.
And I can't blame them one damned bit for doing so.
I only wish I had joined them.
* The Chiefs actually mount one last gasp of a drive to close the
half, getting as close as the Chargers 22 yard line, before Matt Cassel
unleashes his fourth turnover of the contest so far, throwing a pass that is
picked by Antoine Cason. The Chargers
take a knee, and hit the locker room up 27-6.
D checks out to go have a beer with some friends and family. I figured he’d reached his breaking
point and wasn't coming back. And to be honest, I’d reached
mine as well. But despite his generous
offer to tag along, I had to decline, because it was …
* Alumni Weekend! In the
interest of full disclosure, this is always my FAVORITE halftime of the
year. Well, other than the year the
Chiefs had the Frisbee Dogs perform at halftime. Lots of ex-Chiefs were there yesterday*, but
there's two I want to focus on, because they drew the loudest, longest
ovations.
Christian Okoye.
And Marty Schottenheimer.
(*: for the second straight year, my “favorite” ex-Chief was not
in attendance. It’s not a true,
traditional Alumni Weekend without getting to trade “holding, 69, offense”,
“leg whip, 69, offense”, “personal foul, 69, offense”, “chop block, 69
offense”, and other assorted offensive penalties assigned to “69, offense” with
“The Voice of Reason”. Dammit Jeff
Criswell, I MISS YOU! And since it’s tradition,
for the fifteenth straight year, I haul out Norman Chad’s greatest one liner of
all time, back when he was making weekly NFL picks for Dallas Morning News’
“SportsDay”: “The NFL honored Chiefs LB Derrick Thomas by presenting him a
plaque for his 100th sack last Sunday. They also honored Chiefs OL Jeff Criswell
with a flag in honor of his 100th holding penalty.”)
The reason why I think these two will always be revered and
cheered in this town is simple: they were the face of the franchise when the
turnaround began.
But more importantly – they GOT it. They not only were the face of the franchise
for the turnaround … they were the face of the franchise that was so
accessible, so fan-friendly, so dedicated to the community, that literally, you
felt you could approach one of these guys in a Hen House at 119th
and Roe, and ask him to autograph a picture you had just bought at Ace Sports
of him making a tackle, and ask him to autograph it to your mom, for a
Christmas gift*. THAT was the Chiefs
organization that USED to be.
(*: that is a true story.
My buddy Jasson got Mark Collins to sign that photo. Mr. Collins also signed other items, unasked
for by Jasson. THAT is the Chiefs
organization we knew and loved, that has been dead for three years, eight
months, and counting …)
As time went along, more and more Chiefs became well known to the
locals -- Tim Grunhard, Mark Collins (as noted above), Neil Smith, Derrick
Thomas, Bill Maas.
Think back fifteen years ago, the Chiefs organization of 1997,
versus the Chiefs organization of 2012.
Where, exactly, are the fan-friendly players today? Where, pray tell, is the front office
interaction with the paying public?
Where's the respect due to the fans of this team from the organization?
The answer: it ain't there.
There isn't any. The Clark Hunt /
Scott Pioli run Chiefs don't give two shits about their fans. Or if they do, it's only to take two shits on
them, on us, the people who keep them in business. There's no respect anywhere for the fans of
this team from the franchise we love and support. None.
The Chiefs of 2012? Are
nothing like the Chiefs of 1997. I think
this bears shouting from the rooftops, and deserves to be hammered home.
Fifteen years ago, this team was beloved in this community,
because it loved us. There's a reason
why people in this town literally cried at Derrick Thomas' funeral, there's a
reason why a funeral for a sports figure was held at Kemper, why it touched us
so much. Why people had 58 stickers on
their cars everywhere back then, why many still do today.
There's a reason why Neil Smith somehow keeps popping up on
Channel 9's pregame show, despite his utter inability to utter a coherent
sentence. There's a reason why Marty
gets a standing ovation anywhere in town he shows up.
Those guys loved us, the fans.
And in return, we loved them.
Still to this day.
In 2012? The love is all
flowing one way, from fan to team.
There's nothing coming back towards us, other than utter contempt, a
belief that the organization is better than its fans, and a treatment that
reflects that philosophy. This
organization has made everything twenty times harder than it needs to be for
the typical fan -- be it a foul-mouthed parking attendant dropping f-bombs
unprovoked, a team store employee kicking out the paying public if they didn't
have their ticket card on them, concession attendants who refuse to fill your
cup to the top, despite paying $7 for a Coke or $11 for a Coors Light.
It's players that half ass it, then apologize for it
afterwards. Here's a hint guys: play
with your WHOLE ASS the first time, and you won't have to apologize for another
shitty performance. It's coaches that
are clearly in over their head, have clearly bitten off more roles than they
can chew, but they refuse to acknowledge it, and rather than delegate the
duties to capable assistants, they maintain their hold on power, ensuring the
team and the season sinks to the bottom of the sea with them.
And it's a general manager who, despite four years of evidence,
continues to double down on the belief that Matt Cassel can lead this team to a
Lombardi Trophy. Scott? Ol' buddy, ol' pal? IT AIN'T HAPPENING!
All overseen by an absentee landlord of an owner, watching from
afar in his Highland Park abode nearly 500 miles away.
It's disgusting. It's
repulsive. It's outrageous.
It's the Kansas City Chiefs, 2012 edition.
It's a disgrace.
And in the words of our former vice president, whom some of us bitterly and ridiculously claim as our "President in Exile as of 2000": “It’s time for them
to go.”
* The second half saw more of the same -- turnovers, penalties,
and failure. Let me try to illustrate
this.
The Chiefs open the half with arguably their most impressive drive
of the season, a 13 play, 80 yard drive that mixed the pass and run well, that
seemed to catch the Chargers off guard at times, and that ended with a sweet
swing pass to Jamaal Charles for a touchdown to cut the deficit to 14, at
27-13. With 22 minutes to play, 14 is
absolutely a margin that can be overcome.
Here is how the Chiefs responded after temporarily breathing hope
into the fanbase:
* Chiefs force a three and out.
Cassel throws incomplete on 3rd and 7 at the Chiefs 38. Even if the pass had been complete (intended
for Dwayne Bowe), he would have been tackled well short of the down-to-gain
marker. Really, plays like this drive me
bat shit crazy -- you need seven yards for a first down. Why is your primary receiving threat running
a two yard out pattern then? Your safety
valve should be your short receiving option, not your best receiver. This is just idiotic.
* Chiefs force a second three and out. Cassel again throws incomplete on 3rd down, this
time 3rd and 3 at the Chiefs 45. Should
probably note: this drive could have started at the Chargers 30. Javier Arenas had a sweet punt return. So OF COURSE Tysyn Hartman holds on the
play.
* Amazingly, the Chiefs D forces a third consecutive three and
out. For the third straight series, the
Chiefs start at their own 35 or closer to the Chargers end zone. Four plays later, on a 3rd and 13 at the
Chiefs 42, Shaun Draughn fumbles, the Chargers recover, and for all intents and
purposes, that was the ballgame.
But in the words of Paul Maguire, "let's go back to
that", the "that" in this case being the 3rd down playcall.
Why in the bluest of blue hells are we calling a DRAW PLAY, on 3rd
and 13, in a MUST CONVERT situation?
A draw on 3rd and 13 when you're up 14 with 13 minutes to
play? Not only makes sense, it's
probably the best play to call.
A draw on 3rd and 13 when you're down 14 with 13 minutes to
play? Is a FIREABLE offense.
I don't know if Brian Daboll made that call, or if Matt Cassel audibled
out of another play and into the draw at the line. But whichever one of them decided that
running on 3rd and 13 on a MUST CONVERT third down?
Should be drawing unemployment compensation this morning.
I literally turned to Doc after that fumble, and I was
speechless. I just looked at him, shook
my head in disgust, and had my jaw wide open.
What that play was? Was
unbelievable. I have a myriad of rules
in my life, and Stevo Rule 34 got invoked on that play. And anytime Stevo Rule 34 is getting
invoked?
It's a disaster of Biblical proportions.
Brian Daboll? Matt
Cassel? That play is the worst example
of Stevo Rule 34 I can recall in a Chiefs game since Todd Haley's idiotic fake
punt against denver three years ago, a play that still remains unrivaled as "the worst play call in franchise history".
And just like what happened three years ago after that fake punt,
when the fans streamed for the exits, knowing the game, season, and all hope
was lost? Yup, the remaining fans began
pouring for the exits, me and Damien included.
We'd had enough.
* Postgame, not much to report.
I got back to the Bus, where this conversation happened:
(kellie) aw, there he is!
(kellie) (not sure how to approach me)
(kellie) you ok Steve?
(stevo) yeah, I'm fine.
(mona) we were going to fix you a drink, but didn't know what you
wanted.
(stevo) no problem. I don't
need a mixer right now anyway.
(stevo) (sees cooler)
(stevo) (opens cooler)
(stevo) (grabs bottle of champagne)
(stevo) (opens bottle of champagne)
(stevo) (chugging bottle of champagne)
(dusty) (late to the scene)
(dusty) what, you're celebrating?
(stevo) no. I'm medicating.
Now, in my defense, if the first thing I had seen was a bottle of
vodka? I'd have chugged that. Ditto if it had been a Coors Light, a
Boulevard Bully Porter, or even one of Russ' High Life's. The champagne was the first thing I saw.
Three bottles and 25 some odd minutes later, it was time to head
for home. But not before at least some
form of détente was reached between me and The Kid, thanks to his wife that he
so punted beyond his coverage to achieve, it should be in the Guiness record
books. I have zero respect for what went
down. But sometimes, you have to swallow
hard and accept that shit happens.
Consider this my swallowing moment.
* If you had "half a pint of vodka, plus two more bottles of
champagne" as my medicinal remedy to deal with yesterday once I got home,
congratulations, you're a winner. Double
winner if you guessed "grape juice" as the mixer with said vodka.
* Amazingly enough, I was wide awake, ready for work this
morning. I'm not sure how I pulled it
off either.
* So let me close with this.
I am aware that this entire post (14 Word Doc pages and counting!)
is one massive overreaction to yet another debacle by the Chiefs on the football
field.
I overreact to each loss (and win) … because this is the team I
live and die with.
Every one of us has a passion in life. Probably multiple passions (at least for me).
But when it comes to sports, when it comes to football, NOTHING
moves me like the Chiefs.
I remember when I was 9 years old, attending a game in early
December 1986 at Arrowhead against the soon-to-be AFC Champion denver broncos. The Chiefs limped in at 7-6, needing to win
out and get a ton of help to reach the playoffs for the first time in my
lifetime.
They won 37-7.
From that moment on, I was hooked.
I remember getting into a shouting match -- at age 9! -- with my mom's best friend over how idiotic firing John Mackovic was. (To this day, I'll defend Coach Mac.)
I remember how pissed I was when the Tampa Bay Buccaneers couldn’t
spring the upset in a monsoon in the season finale in 1989 to get the Chiefs
into the playoffs. I cried at Dave Kreig
to Paul Skanzi to cost the Chiefs the division in 1990. I can still recall five straight false start
penalties the crowd drew the raiders into on the deciding drive in the Chiefs
first playoff win in a generation in 1991.
I remember the euphoria of Derrick Thomas’ sack, strip, and fumble
recovery for a touchdown in the “winner’s in, loser’s out” de facto playoff
game against denver to end the 1992 season.
I will NEVER forget Kevin Harlan’s epic call of the play, a game played
right after Christmas. “Not even Santa
Claus can save the denver broncos today!”
I remember the doubt, the “not a shot in hell we can do this”
feeling of defeat the entire week in mid January 1994, when the only person I knew who believed the Chiefs could somehow roll into Houston and beat an Oilers team that hadn’t lost since September … was (go figure) “the Voice of Reason”.
And I still remember my mom, at about 11pm the night of the Chiefs
epic upset of Buddy and his boys, coming downstairs for something, seeing me
still on the phone in the kitchen with said “Voice of Reason” FIVE HOURS after
the game had ended, and her just shaking her head at two friends discussing a
Chiefs game, again, FIVE HOURS after it had ended.
(God Bless MLK Day as a holiday!!!
Otherwise her response probably would have been a Carl Peterson-esque
“shut the f*ck up and hang the phone down!” moment.)
(story of the year voice) “Until the Day I Die”, I will never
forget 11:30ish on Monday, October 17, 1994.
Montana to Davis. Touchdown. Greatest Monday Night Game ever. And my dad, pulling into the driveway after
his shift was over right as I exploded out the front door screaming my lungs
out at the miraculous comeback, leading to one helluva sweet moment, a moment
so genuinely pro-Chiefs (and apparently frightening) that my mom locked us out
of the house.
We didn’t care. OUR team
had gone into hell itself, and beaten the damned donkeys.
To this day, as soon as I hear the phrase “boy, did he loft that
one!”, I immediately tear up, because I know what’s coming next.
“Vanover fields it … up past the twenty! Vanover is almost gone and now … he … is …
OFFICIALLY GONE! No flags! This game’s over!”
I could go on and on, but here’s my point:
I LOVE this team. Hell,
they’re my crystal meth, they’re my crack, they’re my achilles heel, my
addition.
When they lose? I hurt.
When they win? I beam with
pride.
And when they look as inept, incompetent, utterly clueless as they
have for pretty much every moment of the season so far?
I want to curl up in the fetal position and cry.
I HATE what this team has become.
This is NOT the Chiefs team, management group, and franchise I fell in
love with 26 years ago on a crisp December afternoon.
This is NOT the Chiefs team, management
group, and franchise I have blindly backed in the 26 years since the Chiefs
opened a can of whoop ass on Satan’s team on that December day, to jump start an improbable playoff
berth that nobody saw coming.
Chiefs fans? We DESERVE better than this.
We've EARNED it.
And if Clark Hunt, Scott Pioli, and Coach Baffoon can’t deliver,
then at least two of those three (and we all know which one ain’t going
anywhere) need to get a swift kick in the ass out the door.
So please, consider this my open invite to Mr. Hunt to drop the “confident
and classy” comment to Mr.’s Pioli and Baffoon as said door slams in their ass
when this crappy dinner of a season finally has the bill come due in early January.
(Oh, and absolutely, I'll be there Sunday before the gates open, ready to endure more punishment, abuse, and insult. I guess Ali MacGraw was right in "Love Story" (a top 5 all-time favorite Stevo movie, along with "Saturday Night Fever", "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles", "The Godfather Part II" and "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World": maybe love really does mean never having to say you're sorry ...
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