“Just try to understand,
I’ve given all I can,
And you’ve got the best of me.
Borderline.
Feels like I’m going to lose my mind.
But you just keep on pushing my love
Over the borderline.
Borderline.
Feels like I’m going to lose my mind.
And you just keep on pushing my love,
Over the borderline …”
-- “Borderline” by Madonna.
Other than the closing lyrics to “Hotel California” by the Eagles: “You
can check out anytime you like, but you can NEVER leave”? NOTHING more perfectly describes my feelings
toward One Arrowhead Drive, Clark Hunt, Scott Pioli, “Coach Fat F*cking Baffoon”,
and his Wrong 53, than “Borderline”.
That line has been crossed, pissed on, defiled, and I’m ready to start
returning shot for shot …
---------------------------------
I hope you cheered.
Twelve hours ago, those were words I never imagined typing,
but I mean them as sincerely as I type them – I hope you cheered.
I hope that wherever you were, be it section 336, section
132, section 133, section 135, section (whoever I’m missing here), sitting on a couch in
front of your television, or glancing at the bedroom TV as you took Marvin Gaye’s “let’s
get it on!” words to heart, I hope …
Scratch that.
I PRAY
you cheered.
I PRAY you cheered as a concussed, possibly seriously
injured Matt Cassel lay on the turf with 10:02 to play, unable to know who he
was, where he was, or simply stand up.
I PRAY you cheered.
In tailgating today, my buddy Brent ominously noted: “I
cannot wait to read your overreaction to today”. Sir, I only hope I can deliver the goods. I fear that posting a quick “this is what
pissed me off most” quick take, will fall short of your goal.
But I do think absolving people cheering for a man to die on
the field? Is a good start.
And I'm guessing giving me 24, 25 hours to truly compose how angry I am? Is gonna grow wood in wherever the hell in Johnson County you live nowadays.
Because honestly? And
this is sick, twisted, pathetic, and possibly insane: I was pissed when Matt
Cassel stood up. I gave a standing
ovation as Cassel laid writhing on the turf.
The guy in front of me was irate.
I told him to go f*ck himself.
Cassel – and using him as a conduit, the ENTIRE Chiefs organization –
deserved to be cheered as they flounder to their death. They’ve EARNED the derisive cheers.
We cheered today as our quarterback laid unconscious,
probably not dead, but definitely hurt.
Go figure, by a team that employs a double murderer at
linebacker.
Mr. Hunt? I hope you
were listening. Your hire(s) are epic
failures sir. EPIC. FAILURES.
And in the words of (running for at the time) Vice President Al Gore –
look at your watch sir, because it is time.
It’s time for them to go.
ALL. OF. THEM.
Clean house sir.
There’s not ONE fucking person -- unedited on purpose -- not ONE FUCKING PERSON in this organization that can justify their
continued employment after today. We
didn’t give up a touchdown at home, and LOST IN A GAME WE NEVER LED! I’d bash my head against the desk at this
point, but my head is reeling from bashing it against the seat in front of me
all day, and unlike your “franchise” quarterback, I have to show up for work
tomorrow, lest I forfeit my $180 for the day.
As opposed to Matt Cassel never taking another snap in his life, and pocketing some $15 million and change for the privilege of looking like the drooling retard on the sidelines.
Maybe at some point, I might calm down enough to do a proper
recap. (Calm down, calm down: that some point is tomorrow ... tonight if the Benadryl doesn't knock me out.)
There were some genuinely funny moments
today to hit on, including:
* the lynched donkey making his return! I know "The Chica" wasn't happy about it ... so for the next home game, said donkey may or may not have his D logo replaced by an "Obama / Biden" sticker or three. 30 days to go folks. 30 days to save OUR country. DO. YOUR. PART!
* the “I only get to drop it once a year if it’s to remain
funny” joke between Dusty, Kellie and I that never fails to bring down the house. (And kudos to “The Chica”, for not only “earning
the beads”, but dropping the funniest comeback possible to said “once a year”
joke: “of course you saw me when my arms were raised!” There’s comedy, there’s high comedy, and then
there’s “The Family” mocking itself over an awkward moment of a lifetime*. And no matter what tensions and tempers were
triggered the last few months, we’re family, dammit. That means something in my book.)
(*: kudos to Dusty for the comeback to the comeback that
beyond brought the house down: “was that the last time you saw a pair, Stevo?” I could not stop laughing. Mona damned near spit out her drink from
laughing so hard. That was brilliant sir. Take a bow – you’ve earned it.)
* the latest in parking regulation nazism. Today’s was a classic.
* the new Mixology Playlist, which played to rave reviews
across the board.
* the idiot at the gate who couldn’t figure out that a metal
detector detects metal.
* My seven year old buddy Brett*, sitting next to me all
game, imitating and impersonating every reaction I had to the events on the
field. I’m still on the fence as to
whether this was good or not. I’ll just
say this: explaining this awesome game we all know and love, at a level a seven
year old can understand, just teaching a kid to love this game? ALMOST makes me want one. ALMOST.
For now, I’m perfectly content to
live through friend’s kids.
(*: yes, this is THE Brett of the “aw! shit!” fame playing washers. I love that kid. When I got up to pee after the first quarter,
he tugged at my arm, and asked “Steve?
Can I save your seat for you?”
(cue the “awwww…..” hearts melting here). I’m not an emotional person … ok fine, not
even I can type that without laughing. I
am an emotional person … but that got to me.
That was awesome.)
* the first, and to date only, flyover I liked. And to go with that …
* the poor chica doing the Anthem, who had to wait for like
90 seconds to start, to coordinate her ending with said flyover. And slightly earlier …
* as I texted Gregg: “the password is family guy”. Oh hell to the mo fo yes, THE BIRD IS THE
WORD! In section 336, the “Family Guy”
jokes were FLYING for a solid five minutes after KC Wolf came out to chase down
the Ravens fans to that song. “Have the boys
at the lab confirm it!” "Cracked? Jesus Christ! Unbelievable!" And my personal favorite: "The Tonight Show: Providing Background Noise for Intercourse Since 1992!" as Jesus walks out to meet Jay Leno as "O Little Town of Bethlehem" plays.)
* the black guy two rows in front of me, who took offense to
my “Built By US” Romney button I wore today.
Led to one moment of hilarity, when I asked him to name one thing Barack
Obama has done to improve his life. TWENTY
seconds of silence later, he didn’t say another word to me. 30 days to go folks. 30 days of hell on earth left to pay as our
punishment for letting the fucking idiots determine 2008.
* the “whoa, we lost the brick!” stop of a lifetime this
morning on the way to the game. On the
heels of …
* Stevo and Joe Griffin plow through a case of wine in 90
minutes, finally passing out close to midnight.
Everyone else went to bed by 10.
I’d be lying if I said I could recall one second of conversation … but I
guess it went well, judging by all the empty 14 Hands bottles this morning. (Note: I counted 14 empty bottles. We were responsible for at least 8 between us.)
* the 20th annual (and probably last) Ralph Wayne’s
Motorcycle Rally, well known around here in South KC. Mr. Griffin’s Harley took first prize again,
as it should – it’s a sweet ass ride.
* finally paid a visit to the new bar out my way, the Dirty
Bird, at 67th and Blue Ridge, in the old Stephenson’s / Santa Fe Inn
location. Well worth the trip. For $36, three of us got (2) Makers Mark and
Diets, (3) Beam and Coke’s, (1) vodka tonic, and (2) SoCo on the rocks with
lime, plus sliders and fries.
But despite all there is to highlight … since Brent
requested an overreaction, and I’m not ready to do a full recap yet, let me
note two things.
(1) there can never be an overreaction, unless there is
something to overreact to. "Champ",
re-read that previous sentence. Then
maybe you’ll get it. Christ, I’ll spell
it out for you: there CANNOT be an overreaction to something, UNLESS
THERE IS SOMETHING TO OVERREACT TO. The
person who overreacts? Is NOT the person
responsible for the shitpile in the middle of the room. The person who dropped the shitpile in the
middle of the room, is who is responsible for it. Got it?
No? Well, I’m not surprised. But still, again – an overreaction, by the
very definition of the word, REQUIRES an action beforehand to overreact
to. The person who overreacts, is not
wrong. The person who fucked up to begin
with? Owns the mess left behind.
Having said that …
I apologize. Because
what Romeo Crennel and his brain dead staff pulled before the half today, is
not only the worst play call in Chiefs history, it’s not only the most
retarded, idiotic, indefensible, stupid, absolutely insane decision in Chiefs
history, it damned well might be THE single stupidest thing EVER executed in
NFL history.
Let me set the scene, per the espn.com game play-by-play:
:12 on the clock left in the first half. The Chiefs have 4th and 1 at the
Ravens 43. In the opinion of this
hot-as-hell 35 year old wanna be blogger who does NOT live in his mommy’s
basement (even if he got drunk and/or high there a time or fifty), there are
three options on the table for how to proceed:
(1) You try the 61 yard field goal. Given the wind in the west end zone (where I
sit), this should be called 0 times out of 100.
But it’s at least on the table for discussion.
(2) You call a quick pass play, ideally quad out routes, two
at 2-3 yards downfield, 2 at 5-7 downfield, with the goal being catch, get out
of bounds, and then try the field goal, or try option (3). I’d try this 95 times out of 100 if I was in
charge. It certainly should have been
THE first thought in the decision making process.
(3) Hail Mary. I’d
try this 5 times out of 100. I am fully
aware the 1998 Chiefs season essentially was roo-eened by opting for this at
halftime the opening week of the season, as the raiders separated Elvis Grbac’s
shoulder on the pass attempt. But still,
the ONLY options ANY sane, rational, “iq above room temperature” coach thinks
of, is (1), (2), or (3), or some combination of (2) with (1) and (3).
Romeo Crennel?
Chooses (4). Punt.
To say I was irate, makes “irate” sound like a happy adjective. I was FURIOUS. And in my defense? I wasn’t alone! My buddy Phil texted me that “if you charge
field and kill romeo Ill post ur bail”.
(Which led to me soliciting bail commitments from my friends, because oh
hell yes I contemplated doing it.)
Even “The Voice of Reason”, so named because he, I don’t
know, is REASONABLE, even HE had no defense for that play. “Indefensible” was his reply to my text.
The Chiefs, at 1-3, having led for 0:00 this entire season,
with a golden chance to steal an unearned lead at the half, PUNTED.
Ballgame.
I’m done defending this shit folks. I’m done.
If you want to come out the rest of the year and join me in my misery,
thanks. If you wash your hands and walk
away? Even better.
This team has broken me.
I can deal with losing. I can
deal with insane parking restrictions, outrageous prices for basic commodities
of life, ridiculous bathroom lines, pathetically weak $12 vodka and tonics,
parking attendants who curse you out, Missouri Highway Patrolmen who swear at
you at your music noise level because they “can’t hear their (alert) radio”. I can deal with stupid cones, idiotic blocked
parking lots, forcing buses onto the grass, illogical parking patterns, no
escalators to the upper deck, one bar concession stand in a 25 section radius,
foul smelling bathrooms, a lack of port-a-potties for tailgating.
I can deal with $27 to park, $78 to enter, and $95
windbreakers to brave the elements.
I CANNOT, and I WILL NOT, abide incompetence.
The Chiefs?
Are incompetent.
And if the final
play of the first half doesn’t convince you of that, then God help you, because
no confirmed to be real person ever will ...
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