Monday, November 26, 2012

chiefs! donkeys! the (attempted) recap!

“Baby, I thought you and me would stand the test of time.
Thought we got away with the perfect crime.
But we were just a legend in my mind –
I guess that I was blind.

Remember those night dancing at the masquerade?
The clowns wore smiles that wouldn’t fade?
But you and I were the renegades?
Some things … never change.

It makes me so mad, ‘cause I wanted it BAD for us baby!
And now?  It’s so sad.  ‘Cause whatever we had ain’t worth saving,
Oh, oh, oh oh …

If the love that I’ve got for you’s gone?
If the river I’ve cried ain’t that long?
Then I’m wrong.  Yeah, I’m wrong!
And this ain’t a love song.

If the pain that I’m feeling so strong,
Ain’t the reason that I’m holding on?
Then I’m wrong.  Yeah, I’m wrong!
And this AIN’T a love song! …”

-- “This Ain’t a Love Song” by Bon Jovi.  Don’t worry, Chiefs fans – this is STILL a “love song”.  The LOVE I feel for this team ain’t gone.  The river of tears I’ve cried ain’t too long.  And I’m not wrong – this IS a LOVE song!  Even if it doesn’t come across as one.  Because g*ddammit … this IS!  A!  LOVE!  SONG!!! …


With all due respect to Sam Mellinger, who is one helluva good read, a tremendous columnist for the Kansas City Star, and as a life-long area resident, “gets it” … his tremendous read this morning was somewhat cheapened by the fourth sentence of his must-read piece:

“(Romeo Crennel) is not stupid.”

Sam is right – Romeo Crennel isn’t stupid. 

He’s f*cking retarded.

Because mental retardation is the ONLY excuse allowable for yesterday’s latest Coach Baffoon / Inept GM debacle, a 17-9 loss to denver that felt like a 13-10, last second of overtime field goal defeat.  The denver broncos did everything short of literally walking across the field and saying “no, really guys – we WANT you to win this game!” to hand Romeo and his Wrong 53 this game … and go figure, Romeo and his sh*ttacular squad STILL found a way to botch the broncos generosity.  (More below, as always.)

When this contest ended, and yes, I stayed for every painful second, I took a moment to say goodbye to everyone, visit the bathroom, and when I finally got back to the Bus, I walked on board, grabbed a bottle of champagne (don’t ask), and sat down on a cooler inside. 

And for the next fifteen minutes, pounded the door – no, really, I literally started smacking the door with my fist, and I have three band-aids on my fingers and knuckles of my right hand right now to prove it – I spent the next fifteen minutes screaming about Coach Baffoon’s baffling decision to kick a field goal at the four yard line, rather than go for it on 4th and 1, pushing 2.  Now, I will grant you, my postgame meltdown was wrong – I kept screaming about “4th and 4 when you’re 1-9, and you kick!”, when it was actually 4th and 1 – but really?  THAT JUST MAKES THE DECISION EVEN LESS DEFENDABLE!

The angriest I’d ever been after a Chiefs game before, is one of the following four games:

a. the playoff defeat to Indianapolis, 1995
b. the loss to denver in 2002
c. the loss to Baltimore in 2006, or

Prior to yesterday, I never imagined I could ever again react as angrily as I did to any of those four defeats.  For starters, I like to think I’ve evolved to the point, that I don’t live and die with every second of the season like I used to.  (Hence the lack of recaps lately, because genuinely, prior to yesterday, I just haven’t cared lately).

And then came the Chiefs opening possession, a drive that saw the Chiefs run the ball – effectively! – eight times for 48 yards, to set up at 3rd and 3 at the donkeys 16.

Now, again, I don’t claim to be smart.  I certainly wasn’t sober yesterday.  (As always, more to come … and yes, yesterday nearly matched the Falcons game in 2004 for my level of intoxication, another “achievement” I never dreamed I’d ever approach again.)  But this much I do know – when something ain’t broke?  Don’t try to fix it.

Move over, fake punt against denver in 2009 that so outraged my good buddy Dusty, that I legimately feared for his personal safety, that’s how poorly he reacted to what was, prior to yesterday, THE single worst play call in franchise history.

So I suppose it’s fitting that on a day that saw a great tailgate, amazing weather, really (somewhat surprising) great times with great friends, both expected and unexpected, that the Chiefs “brain trust”, on 3rd and 3 at the denver 16, barely four minutes into the game … calls for a DIRECT SNAP TO PEYTON HILLIS, WHO THEN THROWS INCOMPLETE – and I mean IN-COM-PLETE!!!  (waa waa waa waa!) – a solid six feet short of Brady Quinn, who somehow was the intended receiver on the play.

Let that sink in – our offensive gurus thought having a worthless fullback with no discernable quarterbacking skills, throw a pass to our starting quarterback four f*cking minutes into the game, they thought THAT was a good idea.  They thought THAT was an effective gameplan.

Defend THAT, anyone stupid enough to believe Romeo Crennel is “not stupid”.  DEFEND.  THAT.

And yes, I am fully aware I opened this post, b*tching about kicking the field goal at the four yard line.  The fact that THAT isn’t the worst play from yesterday?  Says all I need to know.

Here then is your recap, as best I recall, the weekend that was. 

* I got to “The Bus Barn” about 2pm on Saturday, because our goal was to load the Bus on Saturday afternoon, before the projected floor fell off the temperatures on Saturday night / Sunday morning.  So Russ drove the Bus down the street, we got it parked, managed to get some gas poured in the generator, and this conversation occurred:

(russ) I’m hungry.  Wanna grab something to eat?
(stevo) Uuh, sure.  Preferably somewhere with something to drink.

So, we were off to Raytown’s* latest, greatest flea bag of a bar: the Dirty Bird, on 67th and Blue Ridge.  Gusser wound up meeting us for a late lunch as well.  Between the three of us, we had:

* a Beam and Diet Coke.
* three Coors Lights (draws).
* two Budweisers (draws).
* four SoCo’s on the rocks (hey, that’s my contribution!)
* an order of sliders and fries.
* a cheeseburger and fries.
* a plate of wings.

Care to guess our total?  $33 between all the tabs.  And the food is edible to boot!

(*: I’m honestly not sure if it’s located in KCMO itself, or Raytown.  I think the dividing line is 79th, which puts it in Raytown, but I wouldn’t wager $0.02 on that fact.  I do know this – any place that has $2 SoCo on the rock well’s, and has a happy hour that extends eight freaking hours on a Saturday, is my kind of joint!  Daily Double?  Better step up!  And I am fully aware a round of four bottles of beer and a well drink at the Double is $9 plus tip.)

* From the “smart thinking” department: we went straight back to the Bus Barn after lunch.  I mention that, because last week, we wound up in the Hy-Vee liquor department, and dropped almost $150 on booze, when we’d gone in to buy a 30 pack and a bottle of Bailey’s.

* We got the Bus pretty much loaded up Saturday afternoon.  Smart thinking. 

* Spent Saturday night at the Eagles club on 47th Street for Dave’s birthday.  Free booze?  Check!  Amazing food?  Check!  Good times?  Check!

Seriously – they had SMOKED prime rib!  I never imagined regular prime rib could be topped … but smoked?  Sweet Jesus.  Thankfully, Dave will be joining us at the Colts game in a few weeks to share his delicacy with the masses.

* Also checking in Saturday night were Bruce and Cathy.  Glad to see the two of them together again, and most importantly, Cathy back upright and ambulatory after her stroke.

Also, there are two fundraisers at their bar (The Daily Double) over the next few weeks, one of which (December 8th) is for the Salvation Army.  Feel free to show up at “the little lounge that could” to enjoy some good food, cheap booze, and support a beyond worthy cause.

* Also here this weekend was Diane from Wichita.  I gotta admit: remembering everyone for the “annual post” in a few weeks is gonna be tough.  This year has sucked something awful for me personally … but I continue to marvel in amazement at the people I am beyond fortunate to consider “friends”, let alone “family”.

* And speaking of “The Family” … we gotta get the “Dusty cooks a turkey, and Stevo hogs all the dark meat after plowing through a bottle of SoCo” annual tradition lined up.  I may have issues with certain things that have happened this year … but we are family dammit.  (pause.)  Fine, fine – I’ll toss a twenty spot in towards the turkey purchase if I have to.  (pause.)  Really?  Inflation in Barack Obama’s America is THAT bad?!?!  (pause.)  Jesus, a turkey costs THAT MUCH?!?!?!  Who the f*ck voted to re-elect this bastard*? 

(Come on … I’ve been ridiculously considerate of the election’s outcome, especially considering, you know, my side of the argument is now a permanent minority in this country.  And by “my side”, I mean “people who actually work for their check, rather than live on my hard work via subsidies”.  Again – I’ve been way, way, way too considerate, even by my irrational, “overreact to everything!” standards.)

(*: and since he was conceived out of wedlock, the man is, uum, a bastard.  Deal with it.  My God, seriously – how could ANYONE vote for MORE of this?!?!?!  What am I missing here?  Can’t find work?  Check.  Directly attributable to incompetent economic policies that have failed EVERYWHERE they’ve EVER been tried in recorded human history?  Check!!!  Which is something any person who voted for this bastard WON'T be EARNING anytime soon!  Seriously -- how f*cking STUPID have you got to be, to have voted for MORE of this?  And how did this country get comprised of enough f*cking idiots that WANT more of this, to carry the ballot box?!?!?!)

* Well, I was wrong – I said last week that “there’s no way we’ll have fewer people” riding out on Sunday morning than last week, when we were down to the Core Four.  Uuh … we had three yesterday.  Although in Susan’s defense, she was in St. Louis on Saturday watching her nephew win a state championship, and met us out there Sunday morning after making the (right) call to sleep in.

* But sleeping in wasn’t an option for me.  I was wide awake at 4:42am.  I was ready for Donkeys Day.  Too bad the Chiefs weren’t.

* We arrived at the gate to Lane 6, at, uuh, Gate 6, at 6:51am.  As usual, chalk me up in the “premature” category.  Which – seriously, I know I joke about myself more than any credible blogger should ((dusty voice): who called you credible?), but for the love of God, I was born two weeks late!  Why do I always, uuh, arrive, so damned early for sh*t?  (pause).  Oh, no, wait, I mean, I don’t arrive early!  I’m as late as late can be!!!

* And again … if you can’t laugh at yourself, well … then make sure you have “The Champ” around to laugh at.  Because in the words of the great David Naster, “Sometimes?  You Just Have’ta Laugh!”

* Gates opened at 7:52am.  I know this, because I was in the port-a-potty b*tching about how cold the porcelain throne was on my (rear end), when I heard the massive sound of many, many cars headed in my direction.  Let’s just say, coffee and I are not friendly.  Or rather, I’m friendly towards coffee; it ain’t friendly towards me. 

Especially with some Bailey’s mixed in.

* Kudos to our parking nazi Glenn, who finally – FINALLY! – got a clue and “bribed” us for the privilege of parking where we do.  He accepted said coffee and Bailey’s after (finally!  God kid – you’re in your mid 20s!  Learn how the system works already!) asking for it.  What I couldn’t have expected was that

* It was 46 when we left the Bus Barn.  It was 50 when the gates opened.  In the interest of full disclosure, I wear shorts even if it’s 17 and snowing.  (See Jaguars Game, 2006).  To not even get one “what the f*ck?!?!” stare as I showed up in shorts on the last Sunday in November?  Suh-weet!

* Also suh-weet?  Castro and his crew arrived right after us, only minus Castro (which isn’t the sweet part.  I swear, what penal system is that guy locked up in?)  What was suh-weet?  Our good friends known as “the Parking Nazis” that terrorize us on a weekly basis … basically told them “take the horns off, or else.”  HELL YES, it was silent in G30 yesterday!  Well, other than our stereo, and Sal’s taunting “hey, my horn still exists!!!” taunt when Castro’s boys arrived.

* There was actually a debate over where to put my “special little friend” yesterday.  Hell yes, lynched donkey was there!  I love that little guy!  Too bad nobody noticed him hanging off the back of the Bus.  Godd*mned “hey Stevo, donkey fans will be here, you gotta show SOME respect …” that I apparently was conned into believing.

* Roger and his guys arrived next.  Can’t say much else, other than their baggo game looked intense … and oh yeah, this conversation occurred when he wandered over after parking:

(stevo) mornin’!  (extends hand in friendly, warm, welcoming matter)
(roger) mornin!  (does the same)
(stevo) (silence)
(stevo) BOOOOOOOO!!!!!! (to random donkey fan walking by)  BOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! (flipping both middle fingers)
(roger) how many of those f*ckers have you booed today?
(stevo) (doing the math)
(stevo) we’re pushing 20.
(roger) (pause)
(roger) Christ, there’s that many of those f*ckers here today?

Yes.  Yes, there were “that many of those f*ckers” there yesterday.  Excuse me for a couple minutes – I need to fix a very, VERY VERY VERY stiff cocktail to continue …

And … we’re back.

(I apologize in advance if my typing descends into DJ-level “grouse”-ness.  I will try to keep this non-Zues in nature.  Jesus, seriously – how the hell do you not know how to spell, in the words of Samuel L. Jackson, the name of the God who will “shove a lightning bolt up your ass!”  Especially when it’s only four letters, and he’s, I don’t know, your f*cking dog!  Sh*t, even I could spell Phog, and NOBODY is going to accuse me of pushing 72 on the MENSA scale anytime soon!)

* Next to arrive was Ray and his crew.  Oh hell yes, fish fry time!  It NEVER gets old. 

* Should note, the first song out of the iPod yesterday?  “Dancing on the Ceiling”.  I should have known we were doomed.

* “The Crush” arrived next.  Should have been awkward.  Probably was.  To be honest, I was so damned hammered by this point, that I couldn’t have recited my birthdate to you.  (Who knew that pounding three bottles of champagne by 9:15am would screw you up?  Well, other than anyone with an IQ above 71?  And yes – given how blitzed I was, the fact that I only had one massive “whoa, Stevo’s HAMMERED!” moment yesterday shocks the hell out of me.)  Forgive me girl.  I probably should have warned you what was coming yesterday … screw it, I’ll save the joke there.  Just know, you’re my “Crush” for a reason.  (megan voice) because I’m hot as hell?  (stevo voice) f*ck yes!  WOW, this is TANKING post-stiff cocktail, and I haven’t even headed into the game yet on this recap …

* DJ, the girl known affectionately (to me at least) as “the chica”, and the “boasheao” clan arrived about 9:30.  Gotta admit Kid – the fries were inspired.  Really good.   Not that I could tell from grabbing every flake of (semi) fresh cod as it emerged from Ray’s frier.

* At some point, my “Voice of Reason” and his dad showed up.  Always good to see them.

* Forgot to mention, and yes, this is THE ultimate “oh Stevo, I feel for ya man” story.  Saturday night, we’re at David’s birthday deal at the Eagles club, and this attractive cougar is hitting on me.  (No, seriously – this happened.  Multiple people can confirm this.)  I had nobody using my extra ticket at that point, so I offer it to her, she reaches her “why not?” moment, and promises to call me when she gets to Arrowhead at 7:30 the next morning.  I even got her digits for God’s sake, and she was a legitimate Italian cougar, named Francesca (allegedly).  Again, ALL OF THIS is confirmable by MULTIPLE sources at said birthday bash at said Eagles club.

Did she show up?  OH HELL NO.  Did she respond to my text asking “so, you flaking, or really coming”?  (rimshot!)  OH HELL NO. 

But – I did get her digitals.  I feel a drunk dial coming at some point.  Although how it could ever top Jennifer’s drunk “I want to use your body as a jungle gym” text from 2006, I have no idea.

NO WONDER that’s the most p*ssed I’ve ever been leaving a Chiefs game …

* The funniest moment from tailgating, at least for me:

(dusty) wanna throw down (washers game)?
(stevo) would love to but … uum …
(dusty) oh yeah, broke last week.  My bad.
(stevo) uuh, for once … it’s not.

Yeah, last week, one of the boxes fell apart when a back wheel of a SUV may have driven over it because said driver of said vehicle couldn’t see it sitting, I don’t know, right in the g*ddamned concrete walkway it was positioned in.

* Once we tore the tailgate down, we headed in.  I moved down to my old stomping grounds (section 132), since half the stadium was empty, and why head up a spiral rampway thingy I’m likely to drop drunk on if I don’t have to.

* I also was, uum, intoxicated:

* OK, let’s do this, because (a) I wasn’t passed out for that long … and (b) I’m still furious over this game.

* Let’s hit the first drive, which (almost) ended with THE MOST OFFENSIVE PLAY – and I don’t mean offensive as in “yeah, we’re on offense!”, I mean offensive as in, uuh, “OFFENSIVE!” – THE MOST OFFENSIVE PLAY IN FRANCHISE HISTORY.

Chiefs have survived a booth review, somehow driven into the red zone, and have a 3rd and 3 at the denver 16. 

Cue the “direct snap to the dumb f*ck halfback whose fumble cued said booth review, for him to chuck a pass that lands six f*cking feet short of the damned quarterback” pass.

I mean, uum, at the risk of setting a new record for f bombs on this site: WHAT.  THE.  F*CK?

No, really, Romeo – WHAT.  THE.  F*CK?!?!?!?!

Here was me around the time this play occurred:

Either I’m drunk sleeping (a distinct possibility … or reality …) … or that play was SO OUTRAGEOUS, I COULDN’T LOOK AT IT.

(And admit it -- the mistletoe was one helluva good idea!  (cue every single guy agreeing with me) ...)

I’m going with the latter.  And y’all who read this site on a regular basis know, I’m not taking a nap in the photo above.  I’m f*cking FURIOUS, and bent over in frustration.

I mean, what in the name of God was that?  WHAT?  WAS?  THAT?  (As I screamed as the play unfolded.)  WHAT?  WAS?  THAT?!?!?!?!

Who in the hell calls THAT, at the OPPONENTS 16, not even four minutes into a game?  Other than a midget with the IQ of 12?

As outrageous as the ensuing field goal was (hey, a lead!  Didn’t know we were allowed to have that!)?  The preceding playcall was MORE offensive!  I mean really?  A team, in 2012, is STUPID ENOUGH to fall for the halfback pass to the quarterback?  Christ, as a Jets fan?  I can tell you, IT DOESN’T WORK!  Ask our Lord and Risen Saviour, Timothy R. Tebow, how well the Wildcat works in the “current” NFL.

(The answer: it not only DOESN’T work … it gets you two broken ribs when you opt to try it.  As my friend Cooksey, the one Browns fan I know, put it: “wow, way to go Chiefs – you took our offensive coordinator, our quarterback, and our running back … and failed to score.  Stunning!”  Uum, “stunning” to who, girl?  Our inept GM?  Coach Baffoon?  A brain dead patient in the ER?)

* denver’s first drive?  Another replay “wait, our officials are THIS EFFING STUPID?!?!” debacle, as Javier Arenas’ interception was (correctly) overturned.  You know you’re at a special, “special” game, when twice inside the first six minutes, the replay booth has to overcome obvious incompetence on the field … without the incompetent Baffoon* on our sidelines, tossing a challenge flag.

(*: again: I will not degrade legitimate buffoons, by calling Romeo Crennel by the proper spelling.  I trust y’all are cool with that.)

* The Chiefs take over in denver territory, and manage to gain a whopping 33 yards, to kick a 22 yard field goal, to go up 6-0.  And amazingly enough, as I already noted – this was only the SECOND most outrageous play from yesterday.  And this is BEYOND outrageous.

* Quick “flashback / hey, Stevo just remembered this!” moment: my buddy DJ’s friends Mark and Sarah were there at some point at our tailgate yesterday.  I mention this, because hell – just scroll down to the “I wasn’t the most confident person we’d win!” person reference.  God bless it, we sucked eight levels of awful yesterday.

* After a prader miss in my end zone (ok, fine – not “mine”, but after 15 plus years paying to watch these sh*tty efforts, it FEELS like I’ve bought it), the Chiefs take over, up 6-0 … and go figure, Eric Winston is flagged for a false start on first down that dooms the drive.  I’m shocked – shocked! – that a mother f*cking c-word like Eric Winston would false start on arguably the most important drive the Chiefs will undertake all season.  SHOCKED.

Oh.  Wait.  I’m not.

And Mr. Winston?  You can kiss my a** in hell sir.  Kiss.  My.  A**.  In.  Hell!

(Consider me in a shockingly good mood, to not tell you to kiss my front side, sir.)

* donkeys take over after the punt inside their own 20, and peyton throws one up for grabs that Brandon Flowers picks off for the Chiefs.  I’m curious, Mr. Pioli, architect of “The Wrong 53”.  Do you think Stanford Routt would have HELPED yesterday?  Given that he almost literally has half of our turnovers forced this year, do you think for 2/1000ths of a second that he would have HELPED yesterday? 

Then again, “thought” is not a word any person with an IQ above the outdoor temperature in Gering, Nebraska right now, would assign to Scott Pioli’s intelligence.  (Hey, he did that whole shout-out-thingy deal!  Cool!  Love y’all, seriously.  Even if you love the blue and orange more than me.)  J

* After a Chiefs punt, peyton manning leads a beautiful drive down the field, to put denver on top 7-6 at the half, a gorgeous pass that no Chiefs defender was within 2 yards of covering.  And what the hell, you could spot us those two yards, and we STILL wouldn’t have a defender within two yards of covering said pass.  #christwesuck

* donkeys lead 7-6 at the half.  Would be lying if I said I could recount halftime.  Let’s just all thank God above that Jazzercize didn’t occupy the field with 400 pound plus “chicas” chewing the cud, so to speak.  (God, we still have two games to go!  You KNOW they’ll be there for one of them.  Cue the lyrics to this recap – that will NOT be a “love song” (rimshot!)

* donkeys open the second half with a solid drive, but (aw, what a shame!!! or not …) matt prader, the alleged best field goal kicker in the National … Football League, shanks his second attempt (in as many tries).  Yes, I was happy.  And yes, I hit my knees, as per section 132 tradition, as mr. prader attempted his, uuh, attempt.  Hey, ain’t my fault he’s too incompetent to hit a 32 yarder – even I DRILLED my 30 yard attempt at the NFL Experience … (hang on, carrying the one …) Christ!  20 years ago!!!

* Chiefs take over, drive down the field, and kick a field goal on 4th and 1 at the donkeys 31.  And somehow?  This isn’t even REMOTELY the most offensive decision of the day!  Truly – and I guess I have to haul it out here, since I use the word enough – (lionel richie voice) truly! … we have a head coach DUMB ENOUGH to kick TWICE on 4th and 1, in the opponents territory, when we’re one and nine? 

And that’s not even remotely close to the most offensive decision he makes?

Well … I chose the “Dumb and Dumber” toilet scene as my initial recap for a reason.

* demariyous thomas?  Congrats sir – you’ve entered the john elway pantheon of “most hated donkeys ever” level with me.  That TD you caught?  Hurt like someone kicked me where it counts.  denver 14-9.  And I’m not sure what hurts worse: that denver led … or I didn’t get to haul out the obligatory “6-9 hee hee!” joke this year.  (pause.)  Definitely the latter.  Because at least I could have laughed at that.

* To the surprise of noone, denver converted a 3rd and 7 after the two minute warning, to wrap up the game, emerging a 17-9 winner.  I said my goodbyes to the 132 regulars, got a solid hug from Jennifer walking out, and attempted to deal with this debacle as best I could in the bano afterwards.

I failed.


* I managed to somehow stumble up the walkway through Lot G back to the Bus, and man, was I p*ssed.  The door was locked when I got there, so I simply looked at Russ (who was talking to Ray and his crew) and yelled “KEYS!  NOW!”

* I unlocked the door, then tossed the keys back to him.  I then walked inside, opened the cooler, grabbed a bottle of champagne, and for the next fifteen minutes … uum, proceeded to disgrace myself by screaming obsenities at wooden objects, and kicking / hitting said wooden and/or gasoline fueled objects.  I.  Was.  P*SSED.

How do you defend THAT?  You had THREE fourth and short decisions in the enemy’s territory … and kick every time!  (I didn’t even deal with how p*ssed I was over the punt on 4th and 1.  FIREABLE.  OFFENSE!  Not even my “Voice of Reason” can disagree with me on that.  FIREABLE.  OFFENSE!)

* Eventually, “The Champ”, “The Chica”*, her brother and family had to take off, as did we.  Which is pretty much how the day ended.

(*: I’d call you “My Chica” … but I don’t want to intrude on DJ’s turf.  But yeah.  You’re my chica girl, like it or not.  (“my” chica voice) can I think about this? …)

* So let’s deal with reality.  That game sucked.  It sucked worse than a Shop-Vac cleaning up the biggest automotive dealership ever known to man.  It.  SUCKED.

And yet … it’s reality.  We’re the worst team in football folks.  Nobody’s got a worse points differential (minus 140, two “worse” than oakland).  No other team has failed to win at home (Jacksonville is the only other team with fewer than two wins at home … and yes, they got their first one yesterday.)  Even I have lost the ability to defend this, and in case you doubt me – I picked us to win the division, and host the AFC Title Game.  (The lesson?  I’m a mother f*cking … moron.  Sorry – I prefer “moron” to “idiot”.  It sounds less harsh.)

And yet?

Call yesterday for what it was -- one helluva fun day with friends, “family”, and amazing people.  Hell – and I ask this with all seriousness – did anyone who reads this site on a regular basis EVER imagine I’d not only share  a “donkeys day” with donkeys fans … I’d have thrown down with anyone who gave them crap for simply being donkeys fans?  (Because I sure as all hell wouldn’t have.)

And folks?  If I'm wrong?

If I’m wrong? 

Then this ain’t a love song!

I just have to trust that Clark Hunt, the Hunt Family, Scott Pioli, “Coach Baffoon”, and whatever remnants of the DiParto family that remains, won’t be welcoming me on Sunday to the worst funeral I’ve attended since Randy’s.

Because he’d have not only reached his breaking point yesterday … he’d have reached his “Nance!  We’re done!!!!” moment at least a quarter and a half before I did.  That man, God love him, NEVER truly gave up.  NEVER.

But I have to honestly admit – I’m ready to.  And those are the nine most painful words I’ve ever typed on this site.  I'm ready to walk away.  (everyone voice) bullsh*t Stevo.  Bullsh*t!  (stevo voice) yeah, true.  But still -- threatening the Chiefs has to count for something, right?  (crickets chirping ...)

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the third thursday thirteen ...

"So you're dancing on the ocean -- Running fast, along the sand. A spirit born, of earth and water -- Fire flying from your hand...