conference title round: just once ...

"Each day I live?
I want to be?
A day to give
The best of me.

I'm only one --
But not alone!
My finest day?
Is yet unknown!

I broke my heart
For every gain.
To taste the sweet?
I faced the pain.

I rise and fall,
Yet through it all?
This much remains --
I want ...

One moment in time.
When I'm more than I thought I could be.
When all of my dreams are a heartbeat away,
And the answers are all up to me!

Give me one moment in time,
When I'm racing with destiny!
Then?  In that one moment of time?
I will feel?  I will feel?

Eternity ..."

-- "One Moment in Time" by Whitney Houston.

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The Non-Chiefs Prediction.

* Rams (+3 1/2) 41, at Saints 30.

The Chiefs Prognostication.

So ... how has your week been?

I left Friday evening about 8pm for the Second Parents house to stay the night, since (a) it'd been snowing since noon in Midtown where I work, and (b) it was supposed to dump 5-8 inches overnight, and I had no desire to drive in that, just to catch The Bus to head to Arrowhead on Saturday.

And dump said storm did!  Because sometime Friday night into Saturday morning, I lost power at my place down in Waldo.  I headed home Saturday night and braved it, because half of my street had power, and I was hopeful that sometime early Sunday, we'd get power back on the upper half of Madison Avenue.

(Also, as I noted numerous times Sunday: even without power and heat, that house was still warmer and drier than Arrowhead was for twelve hours on Saturday.)

So when I woke up about 8:30 Sunday morning, and there still was no power, I didn't panic, or get upset.  For starters, I have like five comforters on my bed, because my bedroom faces straight northeast in a 75 year old house.  It's not like losing power and heat made that room much colder.  But also, I could see and hear the power crews working, and since I had plans virtually all day Sunday, I figured for sure by the time I got home sometime Sunday evening, I'd at least have enough power to watch the one "I don't know why I love this show, but I do, so lay off me!", uuh, show, on my regular viewing schedule.

(That would be "God Friended Me" ... and please, spare me your responses.  I've already heard them all, for liking this show.)

Nothing.  Had nothing Sunday night.

So I toughed it out again.  After all, as my mom noted: "this is just God toughening you up for Sunday night".  Gee, thanks.  I didn't know I needed "toughening up" to attend a game I've literally waited my entire life for.

Monday, ditto.  Cold and dark.

Tuesday at lunch, I drove by the house just to see ... and holy sh*t, there's a porch light on!  I felt more lit than Tom Bodett doing a Motel Six commercial!  Or Martin Mull hawking Red Roof Inn back in the day!  (Either of which I'd have paid to stay in Tuesday night, because I wasn't enduring Day Five of #poweroutage2019.)

As someone that had, to the best of my recollection and knowledge, not gone more than two straight nights without power before (and that was, I believe, in August 2003, so cold and/or dark wasn't really that big of a factor ... although stupidity was, and boy is that one helluva story I should tell sometime, but anyways ...), let me tell you.

It isn't the cold that sucks.  You can always find enough blankets and/or people to keep warm enough to see the sunrise.  It isn't the loss of power that truly sucks.  I managed to make do with a flashlight and a conveniently placed cooler in my bedroom filled with ice, Dr. Pepper, and Weller.  It isn't taking a shower without hot water ... although that's damned close.  I think I lasted 40 seconds before shouting "this f*cking sucks, I'm done!" to noone in particular (since I was (macauley culkin voice) home alone.)

No, what sucks is the darkness.  The seemingly, never ending darkness.

There ain't no light at the end of the tunnel, when you can't even find the tunnel, even if you're groping the wall for said tunnel, Charlie Rose style.

The darkness is what sucks the most, bar none.

Because darkness symbolizes no hope, no chance, no ability to chart a course to the light.

If you can't see where you're going?  How can you ever get there?

--------------------

Walking into the place on Tuesday, was weird.

I mean, and I swear, that if you're reading this, and think this makes no sense, then you're the one mentally challenged, but I swear, we all know our way around our own joints, right?

I have drunk stumbled my way to my bedroom at least 400 times in the three plus years I've lived at my place.  (Note: number is an approximation; actual total is likely much higher.)  In the words of Andy Grammar: I can "always find my way back home".

Only, Tuesday night, home felt different.

For starters, I had to chuck most everything out of the fridge, and at least half of what was in the freezer.  For seconds, the WiFi router blew something (a fuse / its usage / a temper tantrum) during the power outage.  It had to be replaced.  And as if that wasn't neat enough to return to, I realized I had at least three or four loads of laundry to do before this weekend, and I wasn't about to risk another four days without power to get a couple sweatshirts washed, so I did what I haven't done in at least three or four years: I loaded up the Jeep and headed for a laundry mat. 

But mostly, it felt weird to me, because for the previous 72, 96 hours, darkness defined my place.

And now, all of a sudden, there was a light not even 12 inches of snow, tons of downed trees, multiple defeated power lines, and (a possible) collapse of law and order in Waldo could hold back.

A bright, shining light coming out of abject darkness.

Circle me intrigued, Bert.  Circle me intrigued.

--------------------

Sunday, at 5:40pm Arrowhead Time, my ultimate Chiefs fantasy comes true.  I know, it's probably sad and possibly pathetic that watching my team bring Lamar's Trophy home means more to me than winning Mr. Lombardi's Trophy.  But it does.

Because I am 42 years, 0 months, and 17 days old come kickoff on Sunday ... and this has never happened before in my life.

The Chiefs.  Playing at home.  To bring Lamar's Trophy home.

Circle me excited, Bert.  Circle me excited.

--------------------

So, for Sunday.

The menu is stripped to its core.  We're doing crock pots, and that's it.  (Well, other than coolers of booze.  We always do that.)  Part of this is due to the weather.  I drove by our spot at Arrowhead today on my way to the Team Store, and it's an ungodly muddy mess.  (As any of you reading this that were there last week, can confirm.)  Also, I have no intention of getting stuck in an hour long security line, so I plan to head in by 3:45pm Arrowhead Time at the latest.  I am fully aware that is two hours before kickoff.  I'll have enough Fireball on me, to make it work.

(Or Jim Beam Fire, which -- sssh! -- might be better.  And I say this as someone that is not a fan of Jim Beam ... because Mr. Beam is definitely not a friend of mine most of the time.)

The Bus leaves at approximately 9:30am Arrowhead Time.  My guess is, the gates will open by noon at the latest ... and I'd take the under on that bet.  Because I'm betting the crowd on Sunday, will befit the event.

--------------------

So, as for Sunday?

Well, considering I haven't even recapped Saturday yet, I'm not sure what is left to say.

The last two times the Patriots stepped into Arrowhead in games that count?  They got taken to the woodshed, bent over, and given the business.

A Tom Brady 4 INT defeat in 2005, 26-16.  A game best remembered (and man, I wish I had the email recap from TA to post) for postgaming it with Boomer and Jared Allen in the blue Cadillac with the longhorns, making plans to head to Dallas in a few days for the last time the Chiefs would play at Texas Stadium in a game that counts.

And a total team beatdown defeat in 2014, 41-14, the night before the best sporting event I've ever attended, went down.

And I suppose, it is that game, that brings this to a close ... and might tie it all together.

--------------------

Few, if any, things have come to be great, through luck.

Few, if any, things have come to be loved, through luck.

And few, if any, things have come to be believed in, through luck.

Chiefs fans?  Luck died on that field last week.  He was drug to an early grave, 31-13, behind a defensive performance for the ages, an offense that continues to have 26 points as rock bottom for a game (seriously -- when you know you're posting at least 26 every time you show up?  That's gotta be intimidating for the opposition), and a special teams that was one play from being flawless (one of the best punt blocks I've ever seen, in the interest of honesty).

There's nothing attributable to luck, to explain where we are. 

There's something else, to do that.

Forty Two years, of darkness ... shaken awake by a light that cannot be consumed.

--------------------

So, let me truly close with this.

I've re-written portions of this (especially this portion) about 42 times since last Sunday morning.  I thought about running through the roles of everyone who has made my life better each Sunday or Monday or Thursday through the years, being in our tailgating spot, being in that stadium ... but Sam Mellinger already beat me to that idea.  I thought about going through my favorite moments of this season ... only the season isn't done yet, and frankly, the only two plays so far in the discussion for my favorite are the left handed throw at those people, and the 4th and 9 against the Ravens.  Nothing else is close on the field.

(Off the field, that's also a two puppy / pony / rooster / rubber chicken race: Patrick Mahomes singing along enthusiastically to "Sweet Caroline", the game against the Bengals was so out of hand, and the initial introduction of Mr. Mahomes against the 49ers.  Again, nothing else is close off of the field.)

I've thought of other ideas already taken -- the end of the home game playoff curse, an appreciation for the fact that the dude this blog was initially named for, in actuality is the dude who revolutionized the NFL into what it now is, even a simple reflective (matchbox 20 voice) "let's see how far we've come" shout-out to "Fat" Andy and the people he brought in to fix this broken and (stewie griffin voice) roo-eened franchise.

(I guarantee you, "Fat" Andy has had him some (stewie griffin voice) cool hwip in his day.)

So instead of those ideas now on the scrap pile of history ... I come back to the theme of the post.

One moment in time.

Again, as noted last week, we're long past time for fire-up speeches here.  I've waited 42 years, 0 months, and 17 days for this one moment in time.  Some of you reading this have waited longer than me; the blessed amongst you reading this, have waited shorter than I have.  But we've all waited for this.

One moment in time.

That one moment, is here, come 5:40pm Arrowhead Time Sunday, January 20, 2019.

Finally, for once and for all, let's #bringlamarstrophyhome.

Finally, for once and for all, #letsroll.

Finally, for once and for all, #bethebest.

* at Chiefs (-3) 27, Patriots 20.

Hope to see you Sunday.  If you do see me, I make no apologies for how I'll be.  I will most likely be in a state of complete emotional meltdown most of the day. 

I think that's a great thing.

And as always, until next time, hey!

(sgt. esterhaus voice) Let's be careful out there ...

divisional round: turn the key ...

"Some people think,
That if you really believe?
That's that what you need,
To solve all the mysteries.

Yeah, I know someone,
Who just heads for the sun.
She says "I don't wanna be right;
I just want to stay young!"

So close!
Yet so far away.
So close!
Yet so far away.

We believe in tomorrow,
But we're stuck in today.
Baby?  We're so close -- so close!
Yet so far away ..."

-- "So Close" by Hall and Oates.  And yes, I still refuse to acknowledge believe that Daryl Hall and G. E. Smith are not one and the same person ...

--------------------

The Non-Chiefs Divisional Round Picks.

* at Rams (-7) 45, Cowboys 24.  What did anyone see last Saturday night that has led every man and his drunk uncle (or "drunkle", as the t-shirt I got for Christmas anoints me as * ) to bet on Dallas?  The Cowboys played a perfect game against a Seahawks team that was fatally flawed eight ways from Sunday ... and they still needed a 3rd and 14 conversion to hold on for a two point win.  Does that sound like a team that's gonna roll into Los Angeles, against a Son O' Bum defense that has prepped for it for two weeks, and cover?  Let alone win?  In the words of the late, (not really so) great Nell Carter: "Gimme a Break!"

* at Patriots (-4) 31, "Super" Chargers 13.  This one strikes me as a game close at the half (think 13-7 ish), that the Patriots blow wide, wide open in the third quarter. 

* Eagles (+8) 31, at Saints 28.  I don't have many rules in life, let alone rules I actually attempt to adhere to.  But one rule I am fairly certain should be followed is this: when your quarterback's nickname is "Big Dick", because his manhood is extremely, uuh, manly, and he's the defending Super Bowl champion quarterback, and he hasn't lost a meaningful game in over two years?  I'm taking the eight.  And since I really think this Saints team is the 2003 Chiefs of this decade, I'm taking the Eagles to win outright.

(*: mine is red, but same style:

Image Credit: me, via the Snag-It tool on my computer.)

The "Klassy" Kevin Keitzman Tweet O' The Week.

For once ... sh*t, for the first time ever, I come to praise "K"KK.

Me praising Ol' Klassy?  I never thought this day would arrive.

See, Karvinal Kevin has been using his Twitter handle to shout out bars and watching parties outside of Kansas City, for Chiefs fans to meet up at, for Saturday's game.  People using social media for an absolute good.  Circle me stunned Bert.  Circle me stunned.

And for the record, I wish I'd had this available to me when I was in college a couple decades ago.  It took me a couple games to find the Chiefs bar up on Trinity Boulevard in north Arlington, and even then, it was nowhere near as good an "official" watching spot, as what we turned the Bennigan's on Bridge Street in, uuh, Bridgewood, into.

Anyways, good job, "supusetamente sin pantalones"!  I'd say keep it up, but keeping said pantalones up (supusetamente) is one of many, many reasons I despise your self-righteous, hypocritical "hombre de familia" so f*cking much.

The Watching Party Plans.

There are no The Watching Party Plans, as this is a Chiefs game I will be in attendance for.

The Tailgating Plans.

The Bus leaves at 8am for Terrorhead.  At last count there are 9 riders, including a few Dakota folks coming in for this game.  As always, if you don't want to brave the snow tomorrow, and/or don't want to pay $60 to park, you're welcome to ride out with us.

The menu is burgers, brats, and dogs, plus brisket from Gates.  We'll also have assorted side dishes, plus more alcohol than any reasonable persons could plow through in four hours.

Depending on how fast and how much it's falling, I am planning to head down once the gate attendants arrive, to dig out our usual spot, on the grassy knoll north of the G30 sign.  We'll get the tents up and heaters going ASAFP once those gates open.

(And they won't open at 10:30.  I'll be stunned if they make it to 10am before opening.  They were wide open a little before 10am against the raiders.)

Hope to see you tomorrow.  And if you're coming?  Bring your A Plus Plus shouting voice.  None of us should have a voice, come 8pm Saturday night.

Disreputable Mexican Food Truck Update.

You've probably noticed it's been almost two months since I last posted.  A lot happens in two months.  Some of it good (I bought a Jeep ** !), some of it surprisingly good (second promotion in four months!), some of it surprisingly bad (two great pairs of friends have decided to divorce, and a third pairing is apparently hanging by a "wait, I have to forgive you again?!?!?!" thread of inevitability), and some of it inevitable (I somehow lasted another year on this planet ... and yes, my liver has no idea how).

But truth be told, there's a very simple reason for the lack of posting: my laptop crapped out on me in early December.  And being the cheap ass I am, I waited until my birthday last week to replace it.

Now that a functional laptop is available, I'll try to do better about posting.

But I wouldn't bet on it.

(**: admit it, you have no idea who looks better, me or the car.

Image Credit: someone at CarMax using my iPhone 8 something.)

The Chiefs Prognostication and Pontification.

(pastor stevo) (shuffling the sermon notes)
(the congregation) (growing restless)
(pastor stevo) (chugging a quick coors light)

Let's begin.

--------------------

We enter this confrontation knowing one thing up front, that is undeniable for any fan of a sports team anywhere: it hurts to be a fan.

And it doesn't matter who you root for.  There is going to be hurt, frustration, pain, misery, and humiliation dumped on you, for your choice of fandom.

Even the Yankees fans have to own being up 3-0 in the series, up 4-3 in Game Four, in the bottom of the ninth inning, with the greatest closer of all time on the mound ... and somehow losing four straight from that point, in four days.  That's about as painful of a 96 hours of sports imaginable -- nothing but abject disaster (Dave Roberts' steal), abject failure (the pitch to David Ortiz in the bottom of the 12th of Game Four ... and bottom of the 14th less than 24 hours later in Game Five), to abject misery (every swing and miss against "The Bloody Sock" in Game Six), to abject f*cking catastrophe (in the words of Ben Harper: "But Johnny Damon swung his bat / Grand Slam!  That was that!").

Even the Yankees -- the most successful sports franchise since the lions of ancient Rome were devouring religious deviants 1800 years ago -- even the Yankees and their fans, know rock bottom humiliation.

As Chiefs fans, we like to think we own the market on sports misery, and in some regards, that's correct.  Especially when it comes to the Indianapolis Colts.  When you have four actual (and one de-facto) playoff defeats in 23 years against a team, with zero wins to offset those defeats, that's misery.  We all know the dates -- 1995, 1996 (the de-facto loss, a "winner's in / loser's in deep sh*t" Week Sixteen defeat), 2003, 2006, 2013.  Having been at the last three defeats (I missed the first two due to this pesky thing called "college"), I get it.

Like all of you, I've endured my share of heartbreak, misery, and sheer humiliation from the sports franchises I root for.  Pick a Chiefs playoff defeat -- you've got fourteen actual ones * , and four de-facto ones ** -- to pick from in the last thirty years.  Pick a Jayhawks tournament exit *** .  Game Seven of the 2014 World Series.  Phil Michelson at a US Open.  Andy Roddick at a US Open.  The 1998 and 2000 Dallas Stars.  Tony Stewart at Indy.

Pain, hurt, suffering, misery, humiliation, heartbreak.  It's in our DNA as a Chiefs fan.  As a fan of sports.

But with that comes ...

--------------------

(*: ranked backwards by me, in order of hurt from "really didn't bother me" to "I locked myself in my bedroom for three straight days with nothing but handles of vodka" pain ... (14) 1991, at Bills Divisional Round; (13) 1994, at Dolphins Wild Card Round; (12) 2010, vs Ravens Wild Card Round; (11) 1992, at Chargers Wild Card Round; (10) 2006, at Colts Wild Card Round; (9) 2015, at Patriots Divisional Round; (8) 2017, vs Titans Wild Card Round; (7) 2003, vs Colts Divisional Round; (6) 1990, at Dolphins Wild Card Round; (5) 2016, vs Steelers Divisional Round; (4) 2013, at Colts Wild Card Round; (3) 1995, vs Colts Divisional Round; (2) 1993, at Bills AFC Championship; (1) 1997, vs those people Divisional Round.)

(**: I only counted de-facto playoff games the Chiefs lost (1996 vs Colts, 1999 vs raiders, 2011 vs raiders, 2014 at Steelers).  There are others the Chiefs won (1994 at raiders, for example) that I didn't count since the playoff appearance trumped it in importance for the season.)

(***: my most painful one to witness in person is still the Elite Eight defeat to Georgia Tech in 2004.  The most painful to watch on the couch was 1997 against Arizona, bar none.)

--------------------

... the reason why most of us, are a fan of who we are a, uuh, fan of.

And that's the euphoria, the sheer thrill and emotional high, of victory by our team.

I still to this day can flash back to that Wild Card game in Houston three years ago.  Just close my eyes, think of that day, and the first thing that comes to mind is standing in a mob of Chiefs fans in the southeast corner of NRG Reliant, high fiving players and fellow fans, as Green Day's "Holiday" blared through the PA system.  The chorus, shouting defiance at twenty two years of playoff defeats:

"I beg to dream and differ?
From your hollow lies!
This is the dawning
Of the rest of our lives!"

I can still hear those first notes belted out by the Pride of Kansas, the KU Band, with a little less than a minute left in the 2002 Elite Eight game against Oregon, that wiped away ten years of chokes, collapses, and abject embarrassing performances, and singing right along as they played:

"We're not gonna take it!
No!  We ain't gonna take it!
We're not gonna take it!
Anymore!!!!!!"

I can remember sitting in the Southeast Paddock, on a miserably hot 95 plus degree Indianapolis afternoon in 2005, as Tony Stewart finally took the checkered flag.  That was one fun post-party at Dave and Kathy's, let me tell you.  Hell, Mr. Stewart himself was still kissing bricks and chugging beer long after the last fan had left the Speedway that day ... and as one of the last fans who left, I can tell you, it was after the sun went down.

And of course, what until now is still the most "holy hell, this is real, and it is spectacular!" sporting event I've ever attended -- a game so epic, so thoroughly unforgettable, that even God Himself cried over the ending.

Moments like those, games like those, races like those?

That's why we love sports so damned much.

(That ... and the tailgating, of course.)

--------------------

Saturday, at 3:35pm Arrowhead Time, the Chiefs will face off against the Colts, for the right to advance to a place the Chiefs have only been once in my lifetime: the AFC Championship Game.

And to quote Coach Norman Dale: "we're way past big speech time" now.

I can honestly admit, it's been a long, long time since I have been this nervous for a Chiefs game.  As I noted to "The Voice of Reason" this morning, I've already dry heaved from stress, and as I type this sentence, we are still 29 hours and change away from kickoff.  Puking 30 hours out.  Even for me, that's frightening.

And part of those nerves, are because I honestly believe, this is the biggest Chiefs game of my life.  I think this is the toughest test the 2018 Chiefs will face in the chase for permanent greatness known as being crowned the Super Bowl Champions.  Because, to quote Van Jones from Election Night 2016: "this?  Is where the pain comes.  This is where the hurt comes from."

(Hang on, I need to bash my head a few times over the pain and hurt of November 8, 2016.  I'll be back in (chuck woolery voice) two and two.)

Because here we are again.

The Divisional Round.

It's the Chiefs Achilles heel.  It's their insurmountable obstacle.

It's their hill they die for, (cyndi lauper voice) "time after time".

1991.  1995.  1997.  2003.  2015.  2016.

Or, to quote the theme of the post:

So close!
Yet so far away ...
So close!
Yet so far away ...

I honestly believe if the Chiefs can overcome Saturday's opponent -- just survive and advance to the third weekend of the postseason for the first time since I was a junior in high school, and I turned 42 last week -- if the Chiefs win Saturday, I think they will accomplish the impossible dream, and win the Lombardi.

If they win Saturday?  Let's just get this out of the way.  I think if the Chiefs win tomorrow, that next Sunday will be, in the words of my dad, "an ass kicking of biblical proportions".  Chargers, Patriots, it doesn't matter -- if the Chiefs are playing at 5:40pm Arrowhead Time next Sunday, they're not losing.  They're going to demolish whoever is sent into that stadium, like a lion devouring a person of faith in ancient Rome.

And frankly, none of the NFC teams frighten me.  The Saints are a paper tiger, and are going down this weekend to the Eagles.  The Cowboys are too shaky to trust, and if you think "Fat" Andy has clock management and game call issues down the stretch of a game, then you haven't met Jason Garrett.  The Rams are probably the best team in football, but they can't beat the Eagles, and most people don't think they'll survive Dallas to face Philly anyways.  And the Eagles?  That's probably the dream matchup ... but I guarantee you, "Fat" Andy, the teacher?  With two weeks to prepare for his pupil?

Will school him like few teachers have ever schooled a pupil.

This is the biggie.  This is the one that unlocks everything else.

And for the first time -- because we didn't have it in 1995, we didn't have it in 1997, we didn't have it in 2003, we didn't have it in 2015 or 2016 -- for the first time?

We have the key, to unlock the godd*mned gate, blocking this team from its' (mr. hoduski voice) "manifest destiny".

--------------------

This home season began with me (and many of you) crying tears of pure, unfiltered, euphoric joy the likes of which we have never shed before, at just hearing three words on the PA system a little after 11:50am Arrowhead Time, on Sunday, September 23, 2018:

"And at quarterback!"

Hell, I just teared up again thinking of those three words, three words we've waited a lifetime to hear -- "and at quarterback!"

And this home season is going to end with me (and many of you) crying tears of pure, unfiltered, euphoric joy the likes of which we have never shed before, a little after 9pm Arrowhead Time next Sunday, when Lamar's Trophy finally comes home. 

I have a sneaking suspicion so many tears will be shed, that the Sports Complex will be renamed Lake Arrowhead next Monday, it'll be so flooded by the time we exit.

Saturday?  The key to ending a lifetime of frustration, of failure, of disappointment, of anything approaching ultimate success, gets put into the lock.

And turned.

Chiefs fans?

#bedamnedloud

#breaKtheCycle

#headbandnation

#letsroll

* at Chiefs (-5) 45, Colts 27.