“Don’t wish it away;
Don’t look at it,
Like it’s forever.
Between you and me?
I could honestly say,
That things can only get better.
And while I’m away?
Dust out the demons inside,
And it won’t be long
Before you and me run,
To the place in our hearts,
Where we hide.
And I guess that’s why they call it the blues –
Time on my hands, could be time spent with you.
Laughing like children, living like lovers,
Rolling like thunder under the covers!
And I guess that’s why they call it the blues …”
--------------------
(opening comment from me: this is amazingly enough, post 700 on this site. Incredible. Sorry, but that seemed kinda cool to me; figured I'd point it out. If only so that one day, when the county is certifying me and determining which insane asylum to commit me to, they'll know exactly how many "pieces of evidence" can be entered against me ...)
--------------------
(opening comment from me: this is amazingly enough, post 700 on this site. Incredible. Sorry, but that seemed kinda cool to me; figured I'd point it out. If only so that one day, when the county is certifying me and determining which insane asylum to commit me to, they'll know exactly how many "pieces of evidence" can be entered against me ...)
--------------------
I attended a wedding on Saturday, in which the bride and groom
were officially presented to the world as mister and misses, to "Your
Song".
The final song that played on the Mixology list from Sunday, at
pushing 7:30pm in a still crowded Lot G parking lot, an hour after the Chiefs
had delivered one of -- if not THE -- single greatest fourth quarter
performances in franchise history, was "Levon".
And yet ... this is the Elton John song that perfectly hit me,
when sitting down to begin the recap at pushing 9pm last night.
For one line.
(Pause). What? (Pause).
Well of course I'm not revealing that right off the bat! Good grief, Ms. Non-Existent Stevo's Site
Numero Dos Editor Dudette! You're more
daffy and clueless than Joe Biden, if you think I'm giving away the punch line
four paragraphs in!
--------------------
For fifty eight minutes and twenty seconds, the Houston Texans had
played a damned near flawless ballgame.
I cannot compliment Gary Kubiak -- a man whose coaching acumen routinely
gets mocked on this site -- I cannot compliment the Texans offensive gameplan
enough. It was brilliant. And "brilliant" is not a word I
toss around lightly, or that I prefer to use when describing someone who
started an AFC Championship Game for Satan's Team (1991, at Buffalo). But that gameplan yesterday was
brilliant. (As always, more below).
And Son of Bum's Boyz came ready to play on the defensive side of
the ball as well. They stopped the
Chiefs on their last four drives -- a three and out, the goalline stand,
another punt, and an interception.
Despite losing their two finest players in Brian Cushing (thanks to a
gruesome injury that might be career threatening) and JJ Watt (for a couple
plays), the Texans stood their ground.
Rudyard Kipling once wrote that "if you can keep your head
about you while all those around you are losing theirs", that yours is the
Earth. For fifty eight minutes and
twenty seconds yesterday, the Houston Texans marched into the lunatic asylum
that is Arrowhead Stadium, and did a fine job of keeping their wits about them,
while 78,000 plus were doing everything imaginable, to make them lose it.
For fifty eight minutes and twenty seconds, the Houston Texans
were holding their own. The had
weathered a ferocious Chiefs defense, a relentless partisan crowd that was
beyond ready from moment one yesterday, and were not just holding their own,
not just managing the battle, they had a damned decent shot at winning the war.
But then came minute fifty eight, second twenty one, of the sixty
minutes of meaningful football played yesterday.
The Texans' last play from scrimmage.
--------------------
I sat in my old seat yesterday.
That final play unfolded right in front of me. If you were in that stadium yesterday, you
know how loud it was all game long, especially in the fourth quarter. The feeling, the electricity, good God -- it
was emotional in there. That fourth
quarter yesterday was insane. Everyone
in that stadium knew -- knew! -- after the Texans stood on 4th and goal, that
the defense was going to have to win the game.
Everyone in that stadium knew -- knew! -- that for the defense to win,
we had to make the difference. And so we
went to work.
--------------------
The way that final meaningful play unfolded, I swear to God
Himself -- it was like the whole thing was unfolding in super slow motion. You could see Tamba Hali racing around the
right tackle. You could see Mr. Keenum
feel the pressure.
And the noise! In the words
of the great Dan Dierdorf: "what a wild scene this is!" There isn't a seatback in the lower bowl that
isn't bloodied, beaten, black and blue this morning. Those poor things have to look worse than
Nicole Brown Simpson after OJ spent a night "expressing how much love" he had for her. It was so
loud preceding that play, that Chris leaned around to shout something to me,
and to this moment, I have no idea what she said. She was literally screaming in my ear from
two inches away, and I have no damned clue what she said.
And when Mr. Hali got there, and just leveled Case Keenum, damned
near decapitated that poor man ... as the football came out of Mr. Keenum's
hands, and lay on the turf, and DJ fell on it at the one yard line?
I'll just put it this way: if Arrowhead hit 137.5 decibels last
Sunday (and it didn't)?
Then that entire sequence, from when Case Keenum's first down pass
fell incomplete, until Alex Smith knelt for the third time, hit a bare minimum
of 206 on the Decibel-o-Meter. (Or whatever
the hell the device that measures things in decibels, is called.)
I can confirm to you, that at 1:30 on Monday afternoon, I still
can't hear properly. My ears are still
ringing. My hands hurt. Not "I had them on the push mower handle for
three hours and they sting" hurt -- hurt, as in "ouch! No, really -- ouch!" hurt. It wouldn't shock me to learn the second
finger on my left hand is broken -- it's swollen, I can't straighten it out,
and it's really making this post a pain in the ass to type right now. I have no discernable finger nails left; they
were gone by midway through the third quarter, bitten off one stressful moment
at a time. My voice is shot. I have the weirdest sounding voice known to
man anyway, but it hurts to talk, and my voice is at least two octaves lower
than it usually is. (Cue the "hey,
Stevo finally hit puberty!" wisecracks in three, two ...)
And I can't wait to feel this way again, forty one days from
today, in what is shaping up as not just the biggest regular season contest the
American Football Conference will stage this season, but possibly the biggest
regular season game in the history of this franchise.
Take a bow, Arrowhead Nation.
Job perfectly done.
Because yesterday, that place wasn't Arrowhead.
It truly was Terrorhead again.
(Cue Case Keenum nodding very, very strongly, in agreeing with
that last statement ...)
--------------------
I know, I know. I can hear
the critics warming up now. "Stop
being so analytical Stevo! I hate
statistics! They're boring! Write something funny, not nerdy
dude!" Well, fine. I'll limit it to just one statistic from
yesterday, that provides a window into what we -- the fans, and this team -- created
and caused yesterday.
The Texans took over with 13:43 to play, after the Chiefs failed
to score on 4th and goal at the one yard line.
(A play I agreed with; you absolutely try to secure overtime in that
spot.)
They had four chances, trailing 17-16, to win the game. All they needed was a field goal. Considering one of the four drives started at
their own 41 yard line, all they really needed was twenty five yards to try the
field goal.
Instead, they got this:
* Drive one: six plays, positive thirty yards, punt.
* Drive two: four plays, negative eighteen yards, punt.
* Drive three: four plays, negative four yards, punt.
* Drive four, two plays, negative nine yards, turnover.
Total: 16 plays, 1 first down, -1 yards.
No, really -- read that last line again.
Sixteen plays. Negative
yardage.
To once again quote Stevo's Site Numero Dos' favorite NFL color
commentator: "Lord, you can take me now, I have seen it all!"
--------------------
We left for the stadium a little before 8am. As I recall, there were eight of us on the
Bus: myself, Russ and Mona, Susan, Tony and Noah, and Anthony and Jaimmie.
I thought leaving that early for a 3:25pm kickoff, even with the
early-in pass, was a bit ridiculous.
Look it, I'm all for getting my drink on in a parking lot, especially on
those beautiful Sunday mornings in mid-August when it's so warm at 10am, that
the mere idea of wearing a t-shirt seems like the dumbest idea imaginable. But I have to admit, I thought leaving seven
hours early for a game, was either (a) foolish, or (b) stupid. Surely we wouldn't have to wait in line. No way, no way we are anything but the first
person in line.
We got to the early-in gate near Gate 6 a little before 8:15.
We were not first in line.
And a look to the west, confirmed Gate 6 was already five cars
deep in every line, waiting to get in.
Waiting to get in, at 8:15 in the morning, for a 3:25 kickoff,
when the gates don't open for another hour and a half.
(Pause). You're damned
right the parking nazis had to open the gates before the posted opening time,
due to traffic issues. And not just the regular gates -- oh no.
The early in line, was backed onto Stadium Drive, by 8:30 in the morning, when the "let 'em in!" command, was delivered.
The early in gate, was supposed to open at 9am, for the record.
--------------------
The menu yesterday was pretty decent. Buddy burgers, smoked baked beans, potato
soup, plus assorted chips, dips, and desserts.
Ron and his crew brought -- hang on, I have to do this right. Is he available, Ms. Editor Dudette? He is?
Spectacular!
Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming, live from
Harry's Saloon in Heaven, Mr. William Grigsby!!!
(mr. william grigsby voice) Ron brought a
Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrresidential Platter from Gates!
Thank you sir. And may I
say, I hope heaven let you enjoy those ice cubes provided by Mountain Valley
Spring Water in all your favorite libations.
Tony also brought a shrimp and crab platter that was pretty damned
decent, actually. I have my doubts about
those things, and I say this as someone who'd eat glue if you told me it was a
form of seafood. (Then again, if you
handed me gasoline and told me it was alcohol, I'd at least try it, so I'm not
sure that says anything positive about me.)
The bloody mary's were phenomenal.
The champagne went down smoothly.
The cranberry and vodka mixer I switched to after lunch was sweet and
potent.
About the only thing that sucked -- and again, as I just noted,
I'd try gasoline at least once, if someone convinced me it was alcohol -- was
the vanilla vodka shooters Anthony brought.
There's only one time in my life, when I've tried a liquor I've
never had before, that I've instantaneously felt the need to vomit, and that
was when some dude handed my brother and I a bottle of room-temperature
Montezuma tequila at a Royals / Cardinals game tailgate back in 2005. By "room temperature", that would
be about ninety degrees, and quite frankly, they could have chilled that bottle
to the freezing point, and I still would have instantly puked that stuff back
up, it's so nasty.
I managed to hold the vanilla vodka down ... but barely.
I'm never making that mistake again.
--------------------
Not really much to report from the tailgate. Footballs were tossed. Cornhole was played. Beer was consumed. Food was eaten. Music was playing.
Roger hauled the flat screen out and had the Jets / Patriots game
on.
You couldn't have asked for a better day. Well, ok, I could have -- the wind could have
been a little more toned down, and the temperature could have been about thirty
degrees higher. But other than that?
Mr. Reason or Jasson can back me up on this, but the weather
conditions yesterday -- and this doesn't happen often? This was a Danny Darrell Memorial Game.
About 11:30 or so, the parking situation in Lot G officially
devolved into a disaster. The line to
get in was simply not moving. So folks
started taking matters into their own hands.
They just pulled out of line and set up shop wherever they wanted
to. It was like 1996 all over
again. And that's a good thing.
Gang? 11:30am, Lot G was a circus backed up to the G30 sign (where the lot turns to form the exit / entrance lanes), filled in back to the G30 sign (again, where the lot begins to shrink, to allow the access / exit points to occur).
Let that sink in -- FOUR HOURS before kickoff, the west side of the Truman Sports Complex was out of parking.
Holy God.
--------------------
Had a nice conversation with The Voice of Reason and his dad, as
well as Jasson. Those are always a good
thing. Honestly, this whole weekend was
one pleasant experience. I do not recall
the last time a three, four, five day stretch of my life, actually felt this good. It's been a long damned time.
I mean, here's how great a run the "post-Dad dying for ten minutes" era has been: I even managed to conduct a ten minute conversation with the
Champ and the Chica on Saturday, that (a) didn't insult, offend, disrespect or
hurt me, and (b) didn't end with me wanting to tell them to do something to themselves, that is anatomically impossible.
It's been at least
the middle of February, since (a) and (b) applied to not just a conversation,
but any kind of interaction, with them.
The two of them were not just pleasant, polite, and respectful for the most part ...
... they acted like a friend, would act to another friend.
Circle me stunned, Bert.
In permanent marker.
With every highlighter known to man, to boot.
--------------------
But the highlight, without question, was the return of a man ...
and not just a man, dammit. He is more
than a man, more than a myth, even more than a legend. For years -- and we're talking multiple
decades here -- this man has literally been the toast of our part of
Arrowhead. He doesn't make it out much
anymore (I'm going with "under house arrest for $800, Alex"), but
when he does grace us with his presence, it's always special.
I noticed him a little after 1:30.
I'd walked away from the TV since the Jets were at the half, and because
I needed a refill of my libation. The
dude has lost weight. A ton of
weight. The dude looks older. He's dyed his hair, and cut it shorter; it's
not pepper gray and stringy anymore. But
the moment I saw him, I knew ... as did everyone else sitting in the open area,
enjoying the sun.
Mona said it first.
"Is it really him?" He
really did look that different. So Russ
did what any reasonable person in this spot would do -- call out the guy's
name, and see if he responds.
And the second this giant turned around, saw who was yelling at
him, and flashed that smile to reveal the grillz as only he can, this day went
from really pleasant, to phenomenally so.
Yes, for the first time since at least late 2011, Castro was in
the building.
Well, the parking lot, but you get the picture.
And then the big, lovable dude did what he does best: waddled
across the street, lugging a couple cases of Bud Light loaded with tequila
bottles, to share with anyone who wanted to do a shot with him.
To quote the great Dan Dierdorf: "we've seen it before."
To quote the not-so-great Frank Gifford: "oh yeah!"
Man, Patron is good stuff.
--------------------
Security was much, much better this week. The lines actually moved. And it was reflected in the stands as well --
the lower bowl was nearly filled twenty minutes before kickoff, and the upper
deck looked well populated as well.
There was a lot of weird stuff yesterday when it came to the usual
game day events. Susan thought the
kickoff shift probably caused that, and I'm inclined to concur, but man, was
yesterday different.
For starters, there was no halftime. Well, I mean, there was a halftime, but there
was no event. No Jazzercise, no Frisbee
Dogs, no Pee Wee League teams scrimmaging, not even the Mayor's Ethnic
Enrichment Council trotting out a couple minorities to do some native dance
from a country nobody has ever heard of.
Secondly, there was no flyover.
Me, I loved that, because I irrationally hate flyovers. But it was still weird. You grow accustomed to the way things work,
when they work a certain way over the decades.
We've become trained as fans to look to the east end zone when the National
Anthem hits its climactic moments. This
week, nothing approached.
Third, and man, this one is tough for me to type, but given what a
jovial mood I'm in, and how pleasant the last few days have been, maybe this
shouldn't be unexpected ... but ... I sorta ... kinda ... oh man, this is
painful, and I mean painful, to type ... but I actually ... enjoyed ... and
laughed ... wow, I cannot believe I'm going to admit this ... hang on, let me
swallow hard here to brace myself for what is about to hit my screen ...
... but I actually dug KC Wolf's sketch yesterday.
I will grant you, it was a typically awful KC Wolf sketch. We have seen these things played out week,
after week, after week, and they're always the same -- mean-spirited visiting
fans (pick one) taunt / insult / hurt / steal from Mr. Wolf. Mr. Wolf gets angry, visiting fans take
off. Mr. Wolf finds a conveniently
placed ATV machine, chases the mean-spirited visitors onto the field, then
performs a couple suplexes, pile drivers, and clotheslines on said
mean-spirited visitors, before taking back his pride or material possessions
that those mean-spirited visitors took from him, and riding off on that
conveniently placed ATV machine to some crappy late 1970s rock song. Lather, rinse, repeat.
But this week's actually made me laugh. I have no idea why, but it did.
And finally, in what might actually be the first genuine
"what are the (blanking) odds?" coincidence of my lifetime, someone
not named Ida McBeth, Patti DiParto-Livergood, or the Reverend Hal Weeks
performed the National Anthem ... and was quite good at it. I have no idea who this chick was (apparently
she won "The Voice" last year), but it was a thoroughly enjoyable
rendition. So I update my proposal from
a couple weeks ago: still rotate between Ms. McBeth, Ms. DiParto-Livergood, and
Rev. Weeks, but if this chick wants to steal the tenth game away from David
Cook, I'm cool with it.
--------------------
So, let's hit the recap, because there's lots in here to talk
about. Not the least of which is the
fourth quarter defense.
As always, for at least some accuracy in reporting, I do cheat to
get down / distance and time from the NFL.com GameCenter.
* Chiefs win the toss, choose to receive. It works for me.
* Unfortunately, it didn't help.
The Chiefs went three and out after a quick false start penalty on Eric
Fisher. So, let's deal with the elephant
in the room right up front, shall we?
Eric Fisher is in over his head.
Now, this doesn't mean that two, three, four years down the road, this
will be a Trezelle Jenkins-esque gaffe in the first round, but at this moment,
Eric Fisher has as much legitimate business being on a football field, as I do
conducting an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
This is going to bite us in the ass at some point. The offense struggles to get anything going,
because (a) Alex Smith is running for his life every other snap, and (b) Eric
Fisher is committing some stupid gaffe to cost us yardage every other snap.
Furthermore, his run blocking is, to be polite, TURRIBLE. Courtesy the GameCenter, here's what the
Chiefs gained running right yesterday:
* 1st and 10: gained one.
* 1st and goal: gained one, touchdown.
* 2nd and 9: gained four, lost fumble.
And that's it. Three rushes
for six yards, a lost fumble, and the touchdown was scored because it was first
and goal at the one. For the record, the
Chiefs ran the ball 32 times yesterday, for 126 yards. Which means 29 of those attempts, for 120 of
the yards, was run behind the threesome of Albert / Asomoah / Hudson. The Chiefs are literally ceding a third to
half of the field when they run the ball, because Mr. Fisher is such a
liability right now. This, folks, is no
bueno. And it is going to bite us in the
ass, if Mr. Fisher doesn't improve in a hurry.
Or, to quote my buddy Pickell, "put it this way": if
Eric Fisher can't maintain his composure, and can't block worth a damn in front
of the home crowd? How is he going to
handle fake mile high in four weeks? How
is he going to handle Fake RFK in two months?
How is he going to handle the black hole, or our personal house of
horror, The Ralph?
* After a poor Dusty C punt, the Texans take over in business near
midfield, and immediately drive forty yards, culminating in a field goal to
grab the early lead, 3-0. It was on this
drive that I noticed something, and if you were stuck by me yesterday, I
apologize for hammering this home again, but Gary Kubiak's gameplan yesterday,
at least early on, was brilliant. It was
outstanding. When he dropped Mr. Keenum
back to pass, there was no surveying the field, there was no checks or reads,
there was honestly little to no risk.
Step one, step two, step three, throw.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
The Chiefs were playing a lot of man yesterday in the first
half. (Which is nothing new; I would
guess we play man coverage at least 65% of the time, and that number is
probably low.) But against the Texans'
gameplan, the Chiefs D was not in a good position. By the time the Chiefs defense could begin defending
the receiver, the ball was already in their hands. Again, I cannot compliment the Texans'
gameplan before halftime enough.
* The Chiefs defensive scheme in that first half, however … let’s
just say, Bob’s Boyz didn’t actually adjust and account for the attack they
were facing. And again, I’m praising
Gary Kubiak. That plan was genius. It was outstanding. It shielded Case Keenum’s biggest weaknesses –
lack of experience, lack of protection.
I also loved how Gary Kubiak basically decided from moment one “screw
it; we’re pounding it with Arian Foster until he can’t go anymore”, which
occurred early in the second quarter.
But it got the Texans the start they needed, to grab a couple first half
leads.
* Ensuing kickoff, the Chiefs take over at their eighteen, and
immediately face a 3rd and 9.
Most of the time, the obvious rebuttal is “God bless it, this offense is
craptacular!” Only, for the first time
in a while, Doug Peterson took a few risks.
Namely, he had Alex Smith air it out for Dwayne Bowe on 2nd
down. The pass was incomplete, but … how
to put this properly.
OK, let me try this. View
football like a chess match. The person
who wins at chess, tends to be the person who outthinks his opponent. If your opponent has thought out three moves
ahead, then you have to think four moves out.
The bomb to Bowe opened up the short passing game, because now the
Texans have to take the fifteen yard out pattern / crossing routes
credibly. They can’t cram 8 or 9 in the
box, and get away with it.
On that 3rd and 9, Alex Smith hit a simple checkdown to
Bowe, who took it 21 yards for the first down.
Remember this play – another thing I love about this current regime, and
despised about the last two head coaches and their playcallers, is that “Fat”
Andy and Doug Peterson aren’t afraid to run the same play twice if it
works. Chan Gailey is known for
literally scratching the play out once he calls it. Chuck Weis and Brian Daboll preferred to keep
diversifying things. Bill Muir couldn’t
spell cat if you spotted him the c and the a, but he too rarely recycled a play
inside a game.
So remember this play. It
will factor in majorly, in about three more pages or so.
* The Chiefs are in business.
Thanks to a roughing the passer penalty and a couple completions to guys
who rarely touch the ball (Mr.’s Sherman and Fasano), the Chiefs have first and
goal at the one in the east end zone.
The very next play, a simple handoff right. As I texted immediately afterwards:
(pat summerall voice) Charles.
Standing up.
God above, how I miss Patrick J. Summerall.
I can only imagine how horrific hearing Jim “Hello Friends” Nantz
and Phil “My Son Has Kyle Shanahan’s Name Tattooed On His Calf” Simms, had to
be for those of you watching your television sets yesterday.
* Texans take over, trailing 7-3, and this (to this point)
entertaining contest, just got a helluva lot more interesting.
Because the Kubiak Gameplan’s best execution all day, was on this
drive.
On second down, Case Keenum hits a sweet short pass to the back,
and there goes Posey. Forty two yards
and three plays later, the Texans open the fourth quarter with a 3rd
and 3 at the Chiefs 29. This time,
Keenum actually drops five steps, and throws a gorgeous – and I mean gorgeous –
throw to the end zone. It was so sweet
and effective, that Brandon Flowers was flagged for pass interference, and the
Chiefs still couldn’t stop it.
Call me a dreamer, and say I’m a little naïve … but when you’re
cheating, and it still isn’t helping?
You might want to rethink the gameplan.
Texans 10, Chiefs 7, early 2nd.
* The Chiefs take over, but can’t do anything with the ball. Cue up one helluva sweet punt by Dusty C, who
bombs it 62 yards, inside the Houston ten yard line.
Dusty C’s first punt yesterday was atrocious. Every other one was a thing of beauty.
Especially the last one.
(Keep reading; we’ll get there eventually. You have my promise. And since you’re paying $0.00 for the
privilege of reading this, why not slow take, take your time, and enjoy the
read?)
* This next Texans drive, wow.
I mean, this is the drive I was having a serious meltdown in 132
over. Case Keenum was carving this
defense up at will. This is the point
that finally everyone around me saw what I’d been seeing and noting up to this
point. The Texans march sixty yards to
the Chiefs 37, and face a fourth down.
Now, if I’m going to actually praise Gary Kubiak for something,
then I suppose I might as well note, when Gary Kubiak coaches like … well, Gary
Kubiak.
Gar? Ol’ Gar? Ol’ buddy, ol’ pal, ol’ amigo, ol’
descomisado?
YOU’RE TWO AND FOUR!
You try the 55 yarder EVERY DAMNED TIME!
You have a kicker with the leg to make it. The wind is at your back (Texans were driving
into the east end zone). And again – you’re
TWO AND FOUR! If you can steal this
game, you had a decent chance to be playing to virtually move into first place
next week against the Colts.
(Thankfully, that didn’t work out – Houston lost, and Indy won.)
I mean, if EVER there is a moment to kick the 55 yarder, isn’t
that it? You’re facing the best defense
in the League. It hasn’t allowed more
than 17 points in a game this season.
(And after yesterday, it still hasn’t.)
The odds are, you’re going to have to top twenty, to win this
contest. You’re barely twenty minutes
in, and already both teams are on the board.
You HAVE to try to get the points.
Ol’ Gar sent in the punter.
Gutless, chicken sh*t football.
I despise it.
* Also gotta say, Brandon Tate impressed me yesterday. I thought he did a perfectly adequate and serviceable
job filling in when Arian Foster went down.
Tate’s numbers: 15 carries, 50 yards, along with 2 catches for 5 more.
* Shane Lechler’s punt was gorgeous. Nine times out of ten in that spot, the
punter’s putting it in the end zone. It’s
only a 37 yarder to get there, after all.
Lechler had that bad boy perfectly downed at the Chiefs
three. Circle me impressed.
And also circle me befuddled at times yesterday; the picture of
Shane Lechler in something other than the hideous silver and black, is pretty
strange to look at.
* So the Chiefs take over at their own three, with a little over
seven minutes to go until halftime, down 10-7.
To this point, they’ve had one decent drive (the Charles touchdown), and
absolutely nothing else. Only one first
down outside of that scoring drive, in fact.
Which is what I’m really starting to dig about this team, in some
regards. Yes, there are times the
offense looks more futile than my Jets Madden offenses back in the day. (Let’s just say, if I had been Curtis Martin’s
real-life offensive coordinator, he wouldn’t have lasted until the 2008
season. He’d have been done by 2003.)
So when this team does get something going, when they do get some
momentum and get rolling?
They tend to finish the job.
Cue up a (get ready) fifteen play, ninety seven yard drive, that
culminates with one of the weirdest touchdowns you will ever see, that bled the
clock to less than a minute to play, and sent the Chiefs to the locker room
with a lead they’d never relinquish.
The drive opened with a false start on Anthony Sherman. Ooh, penalize us a yard, Ed. Please.
After a Charles run gets back the yard lost to the false start,
Alex Smith begins to take over. A nice
pass to Anthony Fasano. A great third
down toss to a wide open Dwayne Bowe for fifteen. A nice checkdown to Jamaal Charles for nine,
followed by a stunning no-huddle snap. A
couple nice conversions to Donnie Avery to keep the chains moving.
Culminating with a 3rd and 1 at the Houston 5, as the
clock hit a minute to play.
Alex Smith swears this was a designed play. I call bullsh*t. I guarantee you Jamaal Charles cut the wrong
way. Because it clearly looked like Alex
was looking to hand the ball off to someone.
Instead, he recovers, and does to the Texans what we Chiefs fans
have seen Gary Kubiak’s previous employer do to us so many damned times, be it
with elway, kubiak, brister, griese, plummer, orton, cutler, or the m&m
boys: bootleg left. Untouched. Touchdown, Chiefs.
* As mentioned, there was no halftime. I headed up to the bathroom, had a couple
minutes talking to Ron in the line, then hit the bar for the Jacked Up.
And for what it’s worth, all four people who sampled the Jacked Up
yesterday, agree with me: that might be THE best cocktail, that has ever been
offered for sale at One Arrowhead Drive.
That’s gonna be my drink for tailgating next week, and trust me folks –
you want to try one of these. Two shots
of Jack. Two shots of SoCo. And a splash of Coke, with a lime.
* You're damned right, I'm bringing a plastic pint of half SoCo / half Jack, next week. A large Coke is barely half what the Jacked Up costs on its own.
* The Texans open the half with a punt, and the Chiefs do them one
better – they skip the middle man, and just give the Texans the ball at their
own 28 via a Jamaal Charles fumble.
Remember – this is one of only three plays the Chiefs ran behind Eric
Fisher yesterday, as noted a couple chapters ago.
* The Texans come out firing.
Keenum deep to a receiver, setting the Texans up at the one. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it
again. When you get a turnover?
You go for the jugular.
The Texans did.
Barely four minutes into the second half, and already they’re
knocking at the gates.
First and goal, at the one.
This drive was headed into the west end zone, where Section 132
is, where I was sitting yesterday, where I've sat for so many moments of my life.
I’ve always felt, especially when there’s a first down close to the
goalline, that the first play sets the tone.
The Chiefs fans were ready. Trust
me – we let Case Keenum know we were there.
But you’d expect that. It’s a
natural reaction – you get loud when the other team is knocking at the door in
front of you.
But if you can stand on first down, then you give the crowd a real
reason to make their presence known.
On first down, Case Keenum did what I would have done in that
spot: keep it and fall forward. You’re
at the one. Just snap it and if you get
any kind of a surge, you’re in.
The Chiefs defensive line didn’t yield an inch.
On second down, the Texans went the more conventional route,
handing the ball off to the fullback.
The Chiefs once again did not yield an inch. They actually did one better – they tackled
the fullback for a two yard loss.
Now, the crowd senses it.
If we hold here, we escape a potentially killer turnover still holding
the lead. I can promise you, it was
louder at that moment than it was with :46 remaining in last week’s game.
Keenum takes the snap, and nothing. There is NOBODY open. Bob Sutton gambled big time on that
down. He left no safety support. It was pure man coverage, with an all out blitz from the front seven. You had to shut your guy down long enough to
force an incompletion, or long enough to let the surging wall in front of you sack the
quarterback. The gamble worked; Keenum’s
pass fell harmlessly to the ground in the face of relentless pressure from
Justin Houston. Kubiak (I believe
correctly) opted to take the points.
14-13 Chiefs, with a little under 25 minutes to go.
* The ensuing Chiefs drive, begins with a sweet Quentin Demps
return to set the Chiefs up at midfield.
And after a gorgeous Alex Smith sprint for twenty, with a personal foul
tacked on to boot, the Chiefs face goal to go for the third time in the game.
Let that sink in, Chiefs fans.
For all the b*tching about the offense, we’re barely six minutes into
the second half, and for the third time, the Chiefs have goal to go. They’d get one more before the game was
over. I can’t speak for you, but for
me? If the Chiefs get goal-to-go four
times a week? We’re winning nine out of
ten, in that spot. If you are
consistently putting yourself in a position to where only utter disaster keeps
you from scoring points, you’re going to have favorable outcomes.
In this case, the favorable outcome was a Ryan Succup field goal,
to march the lead back to four at 17-13.
But the biggest play on the drive, was on second and goal, a
handoff to fullback Anthony Sherman designed to catch the Texans off guard
(Charles was the blocker, not Sherman).
Because this is the play in which the Texans’ outstanding linebacker
Brian Cushing, saw his season come to a painful end, via a broken leg and torn
ligaments in the knee on a cutback block by Jamaal Charles.
Some folks have insinuated this is a dirty play. And even if it is (I’d argue it is, for what
it’s worth)?
Gary Kubiak made his name, made his career, running the cut block
scheme in denver. His team will get no
sympathy from me; only God can count the number of seasons this dirty blocking
scheme has ended.
Still though, you hate to see a guy go down like that, go out like
that.
* And, like clockwork, the Texans’ gameplan was firing on all
cylinders after the kickoff, as Case Keenum nailed a gorgeous forty yard bomb
to Andre Johnson to open the Texans drive.
A couple of plays later, the Texans drilled their third field goal of
the day, and their second of the half, to cut the lead to one once again at
17-16.
The Chiefs take over at their own thirteen, up one, with a little
over four minutes to play in the quarter.
They begin the drive in my end zone, the west end. And very quickly, the Chiefs find themselves
in a 3rd and 21 at their own 22, as the clock nears the end of the
third quarter.
THIS … is the moment I was referencing, all those pages ago,
regarding Dwayne Bowe’s reception early in the game. Recycling a play that works.
Al Saunders, who in my opinion is the brightest offensive mind not
named “Hank Stram” that this franchise has ever employed, is the only
coordinator the Chiefs have had that I can think of, who didn’t have a problem
recycling what worked earlier in the game.
His philosophy (as is mine), is that you hit your opponent with it,
until they stop it. Make them figure you
out. Make them shut you down.
Don’t do it for them.
Because on 3rd and 21, Alex Smith hit the short wide
receiver dump off, this time to Dexter McCluster, that Dwayne Bowe ran to
perfection forty minutes earlier. Dex
did even better, gaining 42 yards, pulling the Chiefs into field goal range,
and even though the drive died when the Chiefs couldn’t convert 4th
and goal from the one, it accomplished a few things –
* It swung field position.
This would prove to be huge, as the Texans would never again cross
midfield, and wouldn’t come closer than seven yards to it.
* It bled the clock. The
Chiefs D was exhausted. They’d been on
the field for most of the second half.
The six minute drive the Chiefs put together (across quarters to boot,
earning even more rest), most assuredly played a huge role in the final stands
about to occur.
But most importantly – and I will grant you, this is solely my
opinion, and my opinion alone …
* Going for that 4th and goal, is the moment the fans
in that stadium, bought into the “Fat” Andy Reid era, bought hook, line and
sinker into what the Chiefs are selling.
It’s the moment the fanbase became believers.
It made the season real. It
let us know that our coaching staff is so confident in not just the defense,
but in us the fans to be the difference, that they’ll eschew the gimme three,
and go for the back-breaking seven, because even if it ends in failure (as it
did), we’ll just stop them, get the ball back, and try again, because there’s
no team in the League that can overcome this defense, coupled with this crowd.
For this season, at least, the Kingdom believes that greatness is
achievable.
You want to know the last time I truly felt this way about a
Chiefs team? That for this season, they
are good enough to be the last team standing come the first Sunday in February?
Was Week Thirteen, 2005. “The
Stand”, when the Chiefs challenged the spot against denver on 4th
and 2, and won it.
It’s been eight years since I believed the Chiefs were good
enough, to bring Lamar’s Trophy home.
I do now. As does damned
near every other person there yesterday.
Because the truth is?
They ARE good enough, to not just bring Lamar’s Trophy home, but
we’ll grab that Lombardi fellow’s namesake to boot.
* It is impossible to describe how loud that stadium got, from the
4th down attempt onward, other than to say, it was
indescribable. If you were there, you
get it. (bob saget voice) That, kids, is what Terrorhead
is. A place so fearful, that a team like
the Texans, who had been moving the ball at will all afternoon long, wound up with
negative yardage in the fourth quarter of a one point game.
You don’t believe me?
Scroll back up to the top. The
Texans ran sixteen plays in the fourth quarter.
They posted negative one yards, with three punts and a fumble to boot.
A one point game, and they couldn’t do a thing – because our
defense is this good, because Arrowhead is this imposing, because we are that
loud, we do make that big of a difference.
* My favorite comment of the day, goes to The Voice of Reason, who
spent yesterday’s game with his dad in a suite in the club level they used to
sit in, before the Chiefs kicked every loyal fan in that level to the curb in
favor of the almighty dollar:
“I’m looking forward to being back in my seat next week, where you
actually make noise pounding the seat in front of you. The seats in club level don’t make noise;
they’re too padded. Not that I didn’t
try.”
* Not much to report afterward (and I’m skipping ahead for a
reason, because I want to close in a specific way). We headed back to the bus. I had a couple frosty cold Coors Lights. We waited out the traffic. A ceiling was danced on.
I got home a little before 8:30, took a shower, poured a glass of
wine and started on this recap. Was up
at 6, at the bus stop at 6:50, at work at 7:30.
My boss (who I love) had a great day today. She’s been fighting cancer, as have too many
damned people in our department over the last year. Today was the first day Kathy didn’t wear a
wig, in nearly nine months.
Sorry mom, but sometimes, I have to say it.
F*ck yes she didn’t.
But that wasn’t the surprise of the day. The surprise of the day was that at least ten
different people, including her, wound up emailing or IM’ing me today, in utter
shock that I was there.
And the first person to send the “I never imagined I’d see you
today” IM … was my boss.
There’s a lot of things in life, that if you have them, it can be
very beneficial. A boss who expects you
to call in drunk after an epic Chiefs game, is certainly one of those fringe
benefits you are grateful to have.
--------------------
I guess it’s time to draw this to a close, since I’m in page
fifteen in Word, I’ve been typing off and on for pushing 24 hours now, and “How
I Met Your Mother”* is ready to appear on my television screen.
So let me get to the finish, and try to tie this together.
--------------------
(*: I know – the final season is borderline unwatchable at this
point. I get it. But I actually am kind of liking the idea,
and am curious to see where it's going to wind up. I’m giving the writing staff that’s made me
laugh for eight years, the benefit of the doubt for year nine. (Pause).
Oh crap. That’s exactly what I
did for “Roseanne” fifteen years ago as well.
Although in that show’s defense, the final season actually holds up
better in hindsight than I thought it would, and I was probably the only fan of
the show who actually liked more than half the final season, so what do I
know.)
--------------------
I picked “I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues”, because
quite frankly, I like the song; quite frankly, Seth MacFarlane geniusly used it
in the classic “Family Guy” episode “No Meals on Wheels” ...
... and because quite
frankly, there’s a line in there, that describes where I’m at, at this point, when it comes to a lot of things, especially this team.
I didn’t put it in the opening lyrics. I wanted to save it for the end.
--------------------
Fifty eight minutes, twenty one seconds in, Case Keenum went
down. The ball came loose, Derrick
Johnson recovered it, and three kneeldowns later, the Chiefs had reached 7-0
for the second time in franchise history, and for the third time in eleven
years, they are the last unbeaten standing (2003, 2010).
That wasn’t the moment, that made me cry on Sunday. And yes – I did cry. Exactly once.
--------------------
“Wait on me girl.
Cry at night if it helps.
Because more than ever?
I simply love you,
More than I love life itself.”
-- verse two bridge to the chorus, "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues", by Elton John.
--------------------
Sports is my escape. Well,
that’s partially true; I do enjoy a bottle or five of adult beverages from hour
to hour, and I’ve been known to enjoy a medicinally legal herbal product from time
to time.
But sports is my escape.
Everyone has to have one. Believe
me, I know how utterly ridiculous it is, to care so much for this team. I get how meaningless this game yesterday was
in the grand scheme of life. Believe me,
I get it. Believe me – as one of the few
diehard NBA fans in the Kansas City metropolitan area, I really get how
ridiculous my love of certain sports, certain players, and certain teams can
appear to be at times. I have no
problems whatsoever getting made fun of for it, and I have no problems
whatsoever mocking myself over it.
Which is why what happened, because of Alex Smith taking his third kneeldown,
to ensure victory yesterday, is the only moment I cried.
I’m man enough to admit, I get emotional. I’m human.
I have feelings, and I don’t apologize for them. The late, great Jim Valvano believed you
should have your emotions moved to tears at least once daily. I’m not sure I’d go that far, but he’s got a
point.
Because amidst the high fives, the hugs, the fist pumps and bumps,
the cheering, the celebrating, the Tomahawk Chopping, that the last one minute
and thirty nine seconds yesterday occurred in section 132, row 26, seat 14?
One moment stands out above them all.
The moment my emotions, were moved to tears.
--------------------
“Because more than ever?
I
simply love you,
More than I love life itself ..."
I’ve never felt that way about someone personally before. It’s why I’m 36 and not married. I have yet to meet “The One”. Or, if I have met her, it simply hasn’t been
our time to realize it yet.
The best friend I’ve ever had, my ex-girlfriend, got married on
Saturday. It was a weird feeling, seeing
someone you feel so strongly about, so affectionately for, formally pull away from you,
to truly embrace another.
And that’s a horrible way to phrase it, because that isn’t what
happened, and we all know that, especially me.
She found her one, and it wasn’t me.
That happens. But it’s a very,
very weird feeling, trust me. To realize
that someone you care that much about, will never care that much for you, ever
again … and you never will for her, either?
It’s a weird feeling, and not in a good way.
(Deep sigh ...)
All last season, that’s the feeling I had about this
franchise. That’s the feeling that I had
about the Chiefs, that this was a thing of the past. That I’d never again feel emotion, and
passion, like I have for most of my life, for the Red and Gold.
I genuinely feared that last season would
ruin Chiefs football for me, like 2004 ruined Royals baseball for me.
It seemed natural to me, that the Chiefs
would join the parade of failures and turncoats from the last few years, that I just simply look at and think “Jesus,
what next? How can this possibly get
worse? How?”, while it continued to get
worse.
That’s why the moment I choose to close with, meant so much to me
yesterday. If you were watching it on
TV, you wouldn’t have known it. If you
weren’t in my immediate vicinity, you wouldn’t have noticed it. And even those next to me, friends and true
family (aka “the kind you choose, not the ones you're born to”) who have had my back, have stood for me, and
have supported me, not just through the rough last couple years, but most
especially the painful, indescribable last couple weeks, as my dad died, was
revived, then basically killed off again to attempt to save his brain while
figuring out what the root cause of his collapse in that Hen House was.
I can never repay people for their kindness, for their
generosity. And it is a tribute to so
many of you who read this, that you sought me out, you let me know you were
praying, you were supporting, you were simply there if I needed you.
“Because more than ever?
I
simply love you,
More than I love life itself.”
Because when Alex Smith took his third kneeldown yesterday …
--------------------
You all know, I do not believe in coincidence.
I stood in my spot, enjoying the high fives, enjoying the hugs,
enjoying the celebration. We, as much as
anyone, WE delivered this win for these guys.
We stood. In the words of
Blake Shelton, we got loud. We got
proud.
Then we got worse.
Standing in my former seat, feeling a wave of nostalgia from so
many fun, meaningful seasons come washing over me … and the hurt, the
heartbreak, the pain of so many disappointments suffered in that spot, what can
I say. It got to me.
But that’s not what made me cry.
Because nearly a full minute after Alex Smith took that knee, as I
stood there waiting for one direction of the row or the other to start moving
to get out of there, something hit me on the top of my head.
It couldn’t have been thrown from the upper deck before Alex Smith’s
final kneeldown. It would have landed on
me far sooner, if it had been. It had to be tossed at
the moment the Chiefs achieved victory.
Because what landed on me, was this:
(photo: me, via my iPhone.)
Someone above me, cares so much for this team, that they chucked a
streamer, to celebrate the final play.
That?
That made me cry.
Because it made me realize, that this team isn’t going to go the way of so many other
things in my life the last couple years.
These guys are here to stay.
They’ve got our back, Chiefs fans.
And godd*mmit, have I got theirs …
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