"We suck" -- text from Dusty at 3:53pm yesterday.
"Wow we are bad" -- text from my brother at 3:18pm yesterday.
"Depressing game" -- text from Damien at 2:36pm yesterday.
"I'm leaving. Someone should be fired over this abortion" -- text from me to Damien at 2:24pm yesterday.
And my favorite one of all:
"BOO" -- text from Dusty at 3:55pm yesterday. Apparently 70,000 plus there in person booing for four straight hours wasn't enough, DJ had to chime in from where he was. And you know what? You're damned right he was right to boo. If there is a hell, yesterday was definitely a game from the seventh layer of it ...
-----------------------
I am sure that, in my many years on this earth attending games inside the hallowed grounds of Arrowhead Stadium, that I have sat through worse games than yesterday's "effort" against the Bills.
And I know that, in my many years on this earth watching and rooting for the Red and Gold, that I have left the stadium angrier than I did yesterday.
But rarely have I left that stadium prior to the fourth quarter.
Yesterday, I walked out as the third quarter was drawing to a close, completely befuddled and confused as to what, exactly, the 2011 Chiefs are going to be.
Sadly, Matt Cassel was everything I believe him to be -- incompetent, inept, utterly incapable of elevating this team to the next level, to a championship contender. He was rattled early, confused often, and basically crapped his pants from the opening kickoff in front of the 70,000 plus fans in attendance. It was pathetic, it was embarrassing, it was ... like I said, it was everything I believe Matt Cassel to be -- a glorified version of Brodie Croyle, someone you cannot win a Super Bowl with*. If this is Scott Pioli's brilliant master-stroke, if our GM and head coach (more on Coach Asshat in a moment), if they truly believe Matt Cassel can lead this team to the promised land, then this experiment is going to end very badly a couple years from now.
(*: I am fully aware I'm the f*cking idiot who picked the Chiefs to win the Super Bowl with Matt Cassel under center. The lesson? I'm a f*cking idiot. What, this comes as a surprise?)
I honestly enter this recap with a weird feeling: complete acceptance with what played out yesterday. Yes, we lost 41-7 to a team that went 4-12 last year. Yes, we were outcoached, outplayed, out-everything'd right from the opening kickoff. Yes, our offensive "gameplan" was that epically awful. Yes, our defense completely fell apart when Eric Berry left with a knee injury. Yes, our special teams were that god awful. Yes, our kicker missed a very makeable field goal. Yes, when Coach Asshat said "the blame lies entirely on me", I nodded my head in total and complete agreement. That team that we saw yesterday? If that is who the 2011 Chiefs are, then Herm's last team is going to be remembered in fond terms, because if that team we saw yesterday is who the 2011 Chiefs are, we not only are going 0-16, we are going to get our ass beat every week on the road to 0-16. And I'm talking about a "HHH Memorial Sledge Hammer" type beating. It's gonna be bloody and ugly, if that team we saw yesterday, is who the 2011 Chiefs are.
Thankfully ... I do not believe the team we saw yesterday, is who this team is. Well, except for Matt Cassel, he's dead to me at this point. He could throw an 99 yard touchdown bomb to D Bowe, sprint up the stairs to my seat, and smack my sunburnt shoulders and back in celebration afterwards, and I'd still probably spit in his face*. No, I believe yesterday was the outlier, yesterday was the exception. I firmly believe the Chiefs team we will see in Detroit will not only be vastly improved over the version we saw yesterday, I believe the Chiefs will whip Detroit next Sunday. I think we are going to blow the Lions out of the building next week.
(*: I am the person who called Ed Hearn "that worthless son of a b*tch we traded David Cone for" to his face. I am NOT afraid to let people know exactly what I think of them when they're standing in front of me. Oh, and yes, my back and shoulders are ON FIRE right now. It literally hurts to wear a shirt, I am that sunburnt.)
Yes, I still believe in this team, in its potential, in its promise. I hope that the rest of you can join me in setting aside yesterday, in refusing to dwell on it, and focus on the task at hand: getting out of Detroit with a season-jump-starting victory that announces not just to us, but to the league, that the Chiefs are a force to be reckoned with.
And if you can't, well, at least enjoy the recap ...
* We left right around 6:30 for the game. Riding the bus yesterday were myself, Russ, Mona, Susan, Katie, Will, Jeff and Paula. I'm not sure if the cat that randomly walked into the pre-party and stuck around for most of the evening was on there or not, but he certainly was trying to hop on board most of Saturday night.
Also joining us yesterday were Anthony and Jamie, some other friends of theirs, and the neighbors, Joyce and Jerry. A solid 20 plus person tailgate. And I kept trying to recruit others to join us via text messaging. Yesterday was an absolutely PERFECT day for tailgating. Not a cloud in the sky, hot enough to ditch the t-shirt and work on the tan -- the only thing missing was Dusty kicking my ass eight ways from Sunday at washers, and it would have been a perfect day.
* We got to the gates around 6:50. Arrival means one thing: bloody mary time! And let me say this -- bacon flavored vodka ROCKS in a bloody mary. The only thing missing was a dill pickle, and I would have been in heaven. (In the interest of full disclosure, the best bloody mary I've ever had was at Cafe Grand Central, in south Milwaukee. It's called (appropriately enough) "The Milwaukeean". It's an extremely spicy and peppery bloody mary, and the garnishment is a massive dill pickle ... wrapped with bacon. It is BEYOND delicious. Oh, and they throw in a 12oz beer chaser with each Milwaukeean. Let me tell you -- drinking that thing, and then chasing it with Bell's Two Hearted Ale, is amongst the best things you will ever consume. God I love Milwaukee! If it wasn't so damned cold there six months a year, I'd totally pack up and move yesterday.)
* Sign yesterday was going to be epically awful number one: we left the flasks at home on purpose, thinking the security yesterday would be ridiculous. I honestly thought they'd have metal detectors yesterday. Security yesterday was a bigger joke than it usually is. It was KU Football-esque. You could have walked in with the entire damned bottle of Weller and been fine.
* Also missing yesterday? As noted come about 7:30am, our "good buddy", Justin Robinson from Channel 9. It simply isn't a pre-entry tailgate without that guy going from bus to van to car, mooching everything he can get his hands on*. I think we gave him at least $50 worth of food and beverage last year alone.
(*: hell yes, we pre-entry tailgate! Right down to hauling the speakers out. If you're gonna tailgate, you gotta do it right.)
* About 7:15am, the dudes with Anthony and Jamie decide to haul the football out and start flinging it around. I mention this ... because ANY of them would have been a tremendous improvement over Matt Cassel. I know you laugh when I drop the "let's just pluck a dude out of Lot G and line him up under center, he can't be worse than Brodie Croyle is" joke, but yesterday? It wasn't a joke. We literally could have plucked any random tailgater out of Lot G, lined him or her up under center, and been better because of it, Matt Cassel was that awful.
Well, ok, you wouldn't pluck me ... but anyone else in Lot G? Improvement over Matt Cassel.
* Riddle me this, Batman: why in the hell do you put port-a-potties out there, and lock them? Why? What in the hell is the purpose of adding three port-a-potties by our tailgating spot, if you can't use them? And spare me the "well, Stevo, those are for Royals games" bullsh*t argument. If a port-a-potty is out there, it should be open for public use, period. The county runs the damned parking lot, not the individual teams. Open the damned port-a-potties.
* Funniest moment of the pre-entry tailgate, part one: me editing the iPod play list. Since some folks in our group don't smile upon gratuitous use of the f bomb or the n bomb, I had to delete at least 30 songs off of there. I also tragically erred on the side of caution and deleted "Shots" by Lil' Jon and LMFAO under the "it's probably not a good idea to have "suck our c*cks" blaring out of the stereo" theory. I f*cked up on that one -- it's going back on there for the Vikings game in three weeks. I mean, we do tailgate in Lot G, after all.
* Funniest moment of the pre-entry tailgate, part two: Larry and Carl opened the gates themselves. They just walked up, and swung the thing open, to get their cars through. We did the math -- even assuming you include a $20 with the proven "dozen donuts" bribe ... it's still cheaper to do that, than actually pay for parking. Let's hear it for the Jackson County Sports Commission everyone!!! Shamelessly ripping off the public since 1960 something.
* Funniest moment of the pre-entry tailgate, part three: some Iowa State students were handing out trash bags for recycling your empty cans and plastic bottles. I think it was a fundraiser of some kind. Anyways, I'm walking back from talking with Larry and Carl, and these two ISU chicks (both very attractive, by the way) come up to me and go, "hey, you guys think you can fill up this bag (with recyclables) today?" Uuh, yes, yes we can.
And yes, yes we did. When you plow through enough liquid courage that you're filling a 30 gallon trash bag with nothing but beer cans and bottles, you KNOW it's a good day.
* I sent "the kids" down to save our parking spot. I am officially retiring from saving parking spots. I've been heading in early for 15 damned years to mark our territory. Let someone else do it. Especially once the weather turns cold. I'm too old to sit out in 15 degree temperatures just to save a parking spot.
* No Glen this year. We got a new parking nazi; I didn't even get his name. He was maybe 23, 24 years old. I walk up, introduce myself, ask him if he wants anything, and let him know there's a few folks coming through to park in the grass that don't have the Red Lot Reserved parking passes. Glen? Took absolute advantage of our "generosity" (aka bribe) for letting a few illegals park in Lot G. This dude? Cared so little about his job, that he didn't even ask for a bribe. For the first time in my life, I truly am concerned for the future of this nation.
* We had everything set up and ready to go by 8:45am. At this point, I was fired up and ready for some washers! Only ... I didn't bring the washer set, and my usual washers opponent wasn't there. So I sent a "tailgating just ain't the same without you champ" text to DJ ... and not even 30 seconds later, I get a "aww, that was sweet!" text back from his better half.
Color me surprised -- I didn't think there was a shot in hell either one of them would be up by 9am.
* The menu yesterday was buffalo wings, leftovers from Saturday night's pre-party, and lots of booze. The buffalo wings were amazing. They were just about the size of Buffalo, and nice and spicy.
* Not much else to report on from pregame tailgating. It took a while, but eventually, our good buddy Castro showed up! If you had "visibly intoxicated, shirt completely unbuttoned, and carrying multiple bottles of tequila in a Bud Light box" as how he'd show up, congratulations, you would have won! The only other interaction I had with his crew was about an hour earlier, when they had cranked up their stereo so loud, that we couldn't hear our music. So, being the diplomatic sort, I walked over and asked them to "turn it down a couple decibels". I was told to "get a better speaker!" Well then. From the "proof there might be a God" department, they then blasted their annoying horn as I walked back to our tailgate. The horn blew out their speakers. They had no music the rest of the day. Karma, it is a b*tch, guys.
* The coolest thing early on? Lot G was filled up back to our tailgating spot by 9:30am. Arrowhead Nation was ready yesterday. Too bad Coach Asshat, his offensive coordinator, and his worthless quarterback weren't.
* Bad idea of the day: we didn't pack any whipped cream shots. Maybe that's why we lost. (Nah, we lost because the offensive gameplan was likely designed on a shot glass napkin over a couple stiff bourbon and waters.)
* I thought the pregame stuff was fine. As Kevin Garnett once noted, "tastefully done". I loved the Anthem -- a massive field-sized American flag, no introduction of the performer, David Cook just launched into singing the song. I was somewhat disappointed that "home of the Chiefs!"* was very audible, but hell, we're Kansas Citians, it's how we roll.
(*: saying "Chiefs" does not bother me at all, but I felt that yesterday, the Anthem should have been sung as Francis Scott Key wrote it. On the other hand, I thought the NFL shouldn't have been playing at all yesterday, so I'm probably a poor judge on the subject of "Chiefs" or "brave").
* And noone was more shocked than me when I didn't boo either flyover yesterday. Although my dislike of flyovers is still noted. Saturday, I went up to the Team Store at Arrowhead to look for a t-shirt for the season, and leaving, they were rehearsing for the flyover, because out of nowhere three fighter jets come flying over the parking lot. I damned near crapped my pants worse than Matt Cassel did yesterday. Those things are intimidating as hell.
* OK, let's get into this, and I don't intend to spend a ton of time talking about the game itself because, quite honestly, nobody sits around and discusses that one time when they visited the Planned Parenthood. It's an unpleasant conversation about an unpleasant topic. Ditto talking about what I paid to "witness" yesterday -- it was an unpleasant day inside that stadium that felt every bit as ugly as it looked.
Let's start with the ugliest of the ugly: Chiefs "quarterback" Matt Cassel. To say I wanted to rush the field with a 2x4 and beat Cassel to a bloody pulp, is an understatement. Look it, my disgust of Matt Cassel is fairly well known. I do NOT believe he is a good quarterback. He's not even average. He's a below average player who, at best, should be a career backup, but for some reason, the geniuses running the Chiefs not only believe he is a potential franchise savior, they're paying him $10 million / year to do his thing. (Here's a hint guys: HE'S NOT!)
Here is Cassel on 3rd down yesterday, and warning: you probably want something very stiff to drink, or very herby to smoke, or very powdery to snort, when reading this list ...
* 3rd and 6: Cassel sacked for a loss of 2. Already down 7-0, not a good start.
* 3rd and 7: Cassel throws complete to Charles for a 6 yard loss. This play was worse in person than it looks in print.
* 3rd and 4: Cassel incomplete to Dwayne Bowe. He wasn't within 10 yards of D Bowe on the attempt.
* 3rd and 4: Cassel complete to Jake O'Connell for 15. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.
* 3rd and 8: Cassel sacked for a loss of 11. Chiefs missed the ensuing field goal attempt.
* 3rd and 8: Cassel complete to Charles for 9 yards. Got our only scoring drive underway.
* 3rd and 6: Cassel complete to Charles for a touchdown of 6 yards. Our only score of the day.
* 3rd and 16: Cassel incomplete to Dwayne Bowe. I almost walked out at this point early in the 3rd quarter.
* 3rd and 8: Cassel incomplete to Dwayne Bowe. I did walk out after this play.
* 3rd and 11: Cassel complete to Charles for 6 yards. Bills penalty gave us a 1st down ... when Cassel promptly threw an interception.
* 3rd and 5: Cassel incomplete to Jerheme Urban. I was three Gatorade and vodka's deep during postgame tailgating at this point.
* 3rd and 6: Cassel incomplete to Dwayne Bowe. Wouldn't have mattered -- Asomoah was flagged for holding.
* 3rd and 6: Cassel incomplete to Leonard Pope. Enter Dusty C. Exit every remaining fan.
Go ahead, reread the list if you need to. (Data source: nfl.com Play-by-Play recap). Is THAT a performance a "franchise quarterback" submits? Or is that a "performance" that Brodie Croyle submits?
I'm not going to blame it all on Matt Cassel, however. Bill Muir, take a bow sir, if only so that I can slap a 2x4 across your face, and nail your ass on the backswing. That gameplan yesterday was inexcusable. Someone should be fired over that gameplan. If that's what we have to look forward to for the rest of this season, we are more f*cked than a 20 year veteran of the adult entertainment industry.
I mean, I have the offensive vision of Dr. Tom when playing Madden or NCAA Football (insert year here). I've never met a running play I didn't like, I've never met a 5 yard out pattern I didn't want to call. I am more conservative than Rush Limbaugh when it comes to how I run my offense. But not even I devise a gameplan that inspires 70,000 plus people to question whether or not I arrived to work on a short bus. Yesterday? That game plan? Without question, the people who devised it not only ride the damned short bus, they're the reason the short bus exists. That was mental retardation on an epic scale, fully displayed to everyone in a national forum. I was embarrassed for the Chiefs yesterday. An awful football team rolled into this stadium and beat us like a f*cking government mule. And then they stole our 40 acres to boot! Embarrassing is not too strong a word to describe the efforts of the offense yesterday. If anything, it's too polite.
Thankfully, I didn't listen to the postgame, although I've read enough from it to get a general idea of how it went. And let me say this -- Todd Haley is an asshat. Of COURSE that loss is on you coach! What's galling is that you feel the need to state the obvious! This team has taken the turf at Arrowhead for it's last three games that count. Three straight home games, three straight woodshed beatings. The raiders rolled in here last January and b*tch slapped us. The Ravens, in the words of the great Jim Barnes, "used us as their own personal urinal", they whizzed all over the Red and Gold en route to sending us to our seventh consecutive postseason defeat (a NFL record, by the way).
Yesterday? The Bills slapped us around so hard and so brutally that Ike Turner was outraged. Like I noted last night on Facebook, you don't panic until you're 0-4. Only one NFL team has ever recovered from 0-4 to reach the playoffs (the 1992 Chargers, and go figure, they whipped our ass in the wildcard round*). No NFL team has ever recovered from worse than 0-4 to get there (although the 2001 Redskins came damned close). One loss does not a season destroy, unless it eliminates you from championship contention. But man, if yesterday was a sign of things to come, start checking the parachutes and make sure there's a couple cars with the engines running, gas tanks filled to the top, ready to make a quick getaway.
(*: that loss occurred on my 16th birthday. We lost to denver in the divisional round on my 21st birthday. We got pole-axed in the wildcard round at Indy right after I turned 30. I am FRIGHTENED for what lies in store a little over 5 years from now, when the "3" in my age changes to a "4".)
* Chiefs win the toss, and DMC immediately fumbles the kickoff. Bills recover, and score five plays later. That didn't concern me -- sh*t happens on kickoffs, and if a team takes over at your 26, you'd expect them to score. What did concern me, and still has me worried over 24 hours later, is that Eric Berry left the game after one of the cheapest, low-brow takeouts you'll ever see. Stevie Johnson had better be heavily fined AND suspended at least one game over his takeout. He dove right for Berry's knees. It was ridiculous. Again, fine AND suspension should be in order for that assmunch. (Which means he'll get off suffering neither punishment).
There's still no word on how long Berry will be out, but holy God, is one player THAT vital to our secondary? Apparently the answer is a resounding "YES!", because our secondary after that play was getting lit like a dugout during tailgating.
(Update: multiple media outlets are reporting Eric Berry is out for the season with a torn ACL. It's definitely time to start prepping the parachutes and verifying an escape route ...)
* Already down 7-0, the Chiefs gain one first down on a sweet pass to Leonard Pope, before punting. As angry as the gameplan yesterday made me, and I was extremely upset, I liked how we used the tight end position yesterday. Rather than go away from it because of Moeaki's injury, we're attacking with his replacements. Leonard Pope and Jake O'Connell will never be appearing in a Pro Bowl, but they're two serviceable dudes who catch and hang on to the football. Tight end can still be a big part of the offense, even without Moeaki.
* Reading the play-by-play, I now totally understand why it took a damned hour to play the first quarter. Lots of punts. LOTS of punts.
* Funniest fan out there yesterday? The Bills fan sitting two rows in front of me had a gigantic chicken wing on his head, like the Packers fans have their cheeseheads. I found that to be funny. Then again, when you're getting blown out at home by a 4-12 team, you'll find just about anything funny if it helps you avoid reality.
* I know this will sound ridiculous, but I honestly did believe the Chiefs would rally and win yesterday. When we got to the half, my entire thought process was that we'd go in, make some adjustments, and come out and take control of the game.
I could not have been more wrong. If anything, we were worse after the half, than we were before it.
* After witnessing more ineptitude and pathetic football through most of the 3rd quarter, I was done. I left after Buffalo scored to go ahead 34-7. I grabbed my t-shirt, said my goodbyes to Chris and Ray, exchanged "this is f*cking ridiculous" head shakes with Justin (our tailgating neighbor), and headed for the exits. I wasn't angry, I wasn't irate, I was just ready to leave.
* Fittingest moment of the day: on the walk back to the bus, the stadium PA dude could be overheard saying "Cassel's pass was intercepted by ..." More "this is f*cking ridiculous" headshakes.
* After two and a half hours watching the team I love get its ass whipped, what to do? Pound the vodka. Hard. The Gatorade flavors yesterday were lemon-lime and grape. I had multiple fans of the lemon-lime vodka concoction.
* A day like yesterday, you have to sit outside and enjoy it. As I noted on the walk in to Katie, "this is the best weather game we've had since before I knew you". Uuh, yes, it really has been three freaking years since it was a nice, humid, sunny day at that stadium from start to finish. At least for a regular season game -- as already noted, I refuse to attend preseason unless (a) I have literally nothing else to do, and (b) it is a weather day exactly like yesterday. And (a) doesn't happen very often, I can almost always find something better to do than attend a preseason game.
Normally when we get embarrassed like that, I'm ready to bolt as soon as possible, but I cannot stress how nice outside it was yesterday. I had no interest in being anywhere other than out in the sun, and everyone agreed with me. So we hauled out the speakers, fired up the iPod, made some libations, and got our party on.
* We were back at the bus barn by 3:30pm. I do not believe, save for the Chargers debacle in 2009, we have ever gotten home that quickly. Rather than head home, I decided to try to sober up a bit (smart thinking). We hauled the TV out, and eventually, come 6ish, I noted "hey, my favorite NCIS episode is on next on USA!" So hell yes, those of us still there stuck around for another hour to plow through "Heartland".
Finally, about 7pm, it was time to close the day down. Except one last funny moment occurred. Sarah, one of our pool friends (she's 10) called up Russ to make fun of the Cowboys (which is his team). We missed hearing the phone at first, but you couldn't mistake the voice and what it was saying.
J! E! T! S! Jets Jets Jets!
* I made it home, had a couple more cocktails, started to work on this recap ... and passed out around 9:30. To add insult to injury, the drive in this morning was horrendous -- there was a massive wreck on 435. It took me nearly an hour to get to work. Usually it takes me 20 minutes at most. Anyways, I didn't wind up arriving until almost 9am, which prompted this exchange:
(stevo) good morning!
(stevo's boss) wow, I lost that bet.
(stevo) what bet?
(stevo's boss) I bet Heather you'd call in drunk this morning.
(stevo) really?
(stevo's boss) well yeah! You have called in three straight days before after the Chiefs lost!*
(stevo) (has no comeback)
(stevo's boss) I figured you drank yourself into a coma after yesterday's game!
(my coworkers) (all laughing)
(stevo) wow, am I really that predictable?
(my coworkers) (now really laughing)
The lesson? Figures -- I could have gotten away with drunk dialing in sick. (florida evans voice) Damn, damn, damn!
(*: after we lost at home to denver in 2002, when the "32 Defense" blew a 14 point lead with 5 minutes to go, I literally stayed home and drank for three straight days. You think YOU take Chiefs losses hard? I got the market cornered on "overreacting to one game", pal.)
* So to close this thing down, don't panic. That's the message this morning. Don't panic. Yes, that was a horrendous game yesterday. Not one thing went right. We fumbled the opening kickoff. The secondary got lit like a roach. The offensive gameplan was seemingly designed by writing in crayons on the back of the kid's plate at a Denny's. The offensive line, holy Lord. If they play like that next week, Matt Cassel is going to get killed. Not metaphorically, I mean literally killed, when Ndamakung Suh lands on him in the fourth step of a seven step drop.
And don't even get me started on the awful, absolutely awful, play of Matt Cassel.
Actually, do get me started on that, please. (everyone looking at each other with a "someone get him started, I wanna see what he's going to say" look ...) OK, fine, twist my arm.
Matt Cassel stunk up the joint yesterday. This is now three consecutive home games where something big was on the line -- against the raiders, we were still alive for a first round bye. The Ravens was a playoff game. Yesterday was Opening Day, and as last year proved, a win there can be the launching pad to a great season.
Here is Cassel's statistics from each of those three contests:
* vs raiders: 11/33, 115 yards, 0 TD, 2 INT, 19.1 QB rating. raiders 31, Chiefs 10.
* vs Ravens: 9/18, 70 yards, 0 TD, 3 INT, 20.4 QB rating. Ravens 30, Chiefs 7.
* vs Bills: 22/36, 119 yards, 1 TD, 1 INT, 64.5 QB rating. Bills 41, Chiefs 7.
Average: 14/29, 101 yards, 0 TD, 2 INT, 34.6 QB rating. Chiefs 0-3.
As Shakespeare once wrote, "something is rotten in Denmark", and that something in this case is Matt Cassel. Matthew, buddy, man up. Those stats are PATHETIC! A 34.6 QB rating over your last three games that count? That's awful! 72.4 -- that is Kordell Stewart's career QB rating, or the "Kordoza Line" as the folks at PFT call it. Matt, champ, even if you doubled that QB rating ... you STILL wouldn't top 72.4!
Now, I will grant you, not even Tom Brady could have done anything with that offensive gameplan yesterday. (I mean it -- I want visual proof that Bill Muir's playcall sheet wasn't a coloring book.) But for crying out loud dude -- we're paying you to be a difference maker! And godd*mmit, you ARE making a difference -- for the other team! Stats don't lie Matty, and God don't like ugly. Your stats are Ratty from "My Night of Infamy" ugly man! No NFL team can win with a quarterback who craps his pants on the field. Matty, dude, you not only are doing the crapping, nobody's sparing you a square to clean up with.
If this season is to be salvaged, it is time for Matt Cassel to step up and play like a decent quarterback. He doesn't have to be great for this team to win -- the running game and (usually) the defense is strong enough to overcome his mistakes ... provided he's not making a mistake every time he drops back to pass.
I've read that Cassel and Jim Zorn nearly threw down yesterday, their verbal confrontation over the playcalling was that intense. Good! We need more of that! Except going forward, when you are given a gameplan like the Big Chief tablet yesterday's was doodled on, overrule the gameplan! It's called an "audible", Matt. Use it!
If this season is to be salvaged, Matt Cassel HAS to step up and deliver. I get that he's playing hurt. LOTS of NFL players play hurt. And if his injuries are so severe that they are impacting his play, he needs to sit his ass on the bench and give someone else a shot.
I refuse to give up on this season yet. I believe the Chiefs will fight back, will overcome this debacle, and rally with a gut-check victory at Detroit this week. I genuinely do believe that. This season is NOT over. It was one game. Granted, an AWFUL game, but it was a start. It was not a finish.
Every time last season that this team, and this quarterback especially, faced a moment of truth, they came through:
* week 1 against the Chargers: held on the goalline to jump-start the season.
* week 6 against the Jaguars: coming off two straight losses, the Chiefs blow out the Jags, capped by DJ's TaINT.
* week 11 against the Cardinals: coming off two straight losses, the latter of which was an epic beatdown, the Chiefs blow out the woeful Cardinals, then ride that momentum to a huge victory in Seattle.
* week 15 against the Rams: coming off the worst game of the season, the Chiefs go across the state, with a QB less than ten days removed from emergency surgery, and beat the Rams, ensuring they controlled their own destiny in the AFC West.
Now? It's another "Moment of Truth", uuh, moment. Two consecutive road games, both against teams many experts are predicting to make the playoffs. I believe the Chiefs CAN win both of these contests. But they won't win either if they play like they did yesterday. It's gut-check time once again. If this team is half as good as I believe they are, they'll answer the bell.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
today sucked. move on
There are SO many things I want to say from today ... and I will say them tomorrow.
But until then ... do NOT give up because of one awful performance!
Believe in what can be. Believe in what WILL be!!!
Believe!!! "If you'll touch me, you'll understand what happiness is ... look a new day ... has begun!!!"
But until then ... do NOT give up because of one awful performance!
Believe in what can be. Believe in what WILL be!!!
Believe!!! "If you'll touch me, you'll understand what happiness is ... look a new day ... has begun!!!"
Thursday, September 8, 2011
the week one prognostications
“Let go of our fear! Let go of our doubt!
Let go of the ones who try to put you down!
You’re gonna be fine! Don’t hold it inside!
If you hurt right now, then let it all out …
Breathe. Just breathe!
Take the world off your shoulders, put it on me.
Breathe. Just breathe!
Let the life that you live be all that you need …”
-- Ryan Star, “Breathe”. Come Sunday morning, don’t fail to remember those who can’t breathe anymore because of what those bastards did ten years ago …
-------------------------
Last Week ATS: not applicable
Season to Date ATS: not applicable
Last Week SU: not applicable
Season to Date ATS: not applicable
Last Week’s Upset of the Week ATS: not applicable
Season to Date Upset of the Week ATS: not applicable
Last Week’s Upset of the Week SU: not applicable
Season to Date Upset of the Week SU: not applicable
This Week’s Upset of the Week: Vikings (+8 ½) over Chargers.
The Non-Chiefs, Non-Jets, Non-“That Game” Prognostications:
* Saints (+4) 34, at Packers 30.
* Vikings (+8 ½) 31, at Chargers 20.
* at 49ers (-5) 24, Seahawks 14.
* at Cardinals (-9) 44, Panthers 3.
* at Bucs (-1 ½) 31, Lions 13.
* at Bears (+2 ½) 24, Falcons 21.
* at Browns (-7) 34, Bengals 10.
* at Rams (+4) 27, Eagles 24.
* at Texans 27, Colts (+9) 23.
* at Redskins (+3) 20, Giants 19.
* at Ravens (-2) 21, Steelers 14.
* Titans (+2) 41, at Jaguars 16.
* Patriots (-7) 45, at Dolphins 30.
The “Root for Injuries and/or a Terrorist Attack” Bowl:
* at donkeys (-3) 24, raiders 20. It is not possible to put into words how much I hate the oakland raiders. And the English language has yet to come up with a word to describe my contempt for the denver f*cking broncos. What, you thought I’d make it a picks post without dropping a f bomb? Come on!
The Jets Prediction:
* Cowboys (+5) 31, at Jets 20. Got a really bad feeling about this one. I somehow envision my Sunday night ending with me chucking the Jets hat at the flat screen, with about 9 empty Coors bottles sitting in front of me, as I pass out on the couch in frustration at another inept Opening Day effort from Gang Green.
The Chiefs Prediction:
Normally, this is where I’d come up with some cute, quirky story to tie into this week’s game, or come up with some inspirational speech to get you in the mood to show up for said game … but not this week.
9/11 is extremely personal to me. My dad’s side of the family is from Long Island. My college roommate literally survived the attack – Vineet worked in the South Tower, and his boss had the common sense to say “no” to going back in when they evacuated after the north tower was hit. For me, this day is extremely personal.
Which is why I hate, I freaking HATE, that the NFL is playing on Sunday. The NFL should have pushed back Opening Week a day, and eliminated the bye week between the conference title games and the Super Bowl. It is CRIMINAL that we’re playing football, and exploiting the greatest national tragedy of most of our lifetimes, for profit. For pure, f*cking profit.
Then again, I’d expect nothing less from Roger Goodell and NFL ownership. These are the folks for whom every team turning a profit wasn’t good enough, hence the 132 day lockout.
If you’re coming out Sunday, you know where we’re at. (on the grass next to the G30 sign). Menu is buffalo wings and whatever else we come up with. Please, and of all people on this earth, I cannot believe I am typing this, but please, remember – this day is not about football. It should be about remembering nearly 3400 innocent people who were murdered by cowardly terrorists in an attempt to destroy what makes this nation the greatest in the history of civilization.
at Chiefs (-6) 33, Bills 6. Come on, like I’d pick any other score for a game involving Buffalo when I expect us to win …
Let go of the ones who try to put you down!
You’re gonna be fine! Don’t hold it inside!
If you hurt right now, then let it all out …
Breathe. Just breathe!
Take the world off your shoulders, put it on me.
Breathe. Just breathe!
Let the life that you live be all that you need …”
-- Ryan Star, “Breathe”. Come Sunday morning, don’t fail to remember those who can’t breathe anymore because of what those bastards did ten years ago …
-------------------------
Last Week ATS: not applicable
Season to Date ATS: not applicable
Last Week SU: not applicable
Season to Date ATS: not applicable
Last Week’s Upset of the Week ATS: not applicable
Season to Date Upset of the Week ATS: not applicable
Last Week’s Upset of the Week SU: not applicable
Season to Date Upset of the Week SU: not applicable
This Week’s Upset of the Week: Vikings (+8 ½) over Chargers.
The Non-Chiefs, Non-Jets, Non-“That Game” Prognostications:
* Saints (+4) 34, at Packers 30.
* Vikings (+8 ½) 31, at Chargers 20.
* at 49ers (-5) 24, Seahawks 14.
* at Cardinals (-9) 44, Panthers 3.
* at Bucs (-1 ½) 31, Lions 13.
* at Bears (+2 ½) 24, Falcons 21.
* at Browns (-7) 34, Bengals 10.
* at Rams (+4) 27, Eagles 24.
* at Texans 27, Colts (+9) 23.
* at Redskins (+3) 20, Giants 19.
* at Ravens (-2) 21, Steelers 14.
* Titans (+2) 41, at Jaguars 16.
* Patriots (-7) 45, at Dolphins 30.
The “Root for Injuries and/or a Terrorist Attack” Bowl:
* at donkeys (-3) 24, raiders 20. It is not possible to put into words how much I hate the oakland raiders. And the English language has yet to come up with a word to describe my contempt for the denver f*cking broncos. What, you thought I’d make it a picks post without dropping a f bomb? Come on!
The Jets Prediction:
* Cowboys (+5) 31, at Jets 20. Got a really bad feeling about this one. I somehow envision my Sunday night ending with me chucking the Jets hat at the flat screen, with about 9 empty Coors bottles sitting in front of me, as I pass out on the couch in frustration at another inept Opening Day effort from Gang Green.
The Chiefs Prediction:
Normally, this is where I’d come up with some cute, quirky story to tie into this week’s game, or come up with some inspirational speech to get you in the mood to show up for said game … but not this week.
9/11 is extremely personal to me. My dad’s side of the family is from Long Island. My college roommate literally survived the attack – Vineet worked in the South Tower, and his boss had the common sense to say “no” to going back in when they evacuated after the north tower was hit. For me, this day is extremely personal.
Which is why I hate, I freaking HATE, that the NFL is playing on Sunday. The NFL should have pushed back Opening Week a day, and eliminated the bye week between the conference title games and the Super Bowl. It is CRIMINAL that we’re playing football, and exploiting the greatest national tragedy of most of our lifetimes, for profit. For pure, f*cking profit.
Then again, I’d expect nothing less from Roger Goodell and NFL ownership. These are the folks for whom every team turning a profit wasn’t good enough, hence the 132 day lockout.
If you’re coming out Sunday, you know where we’re at. (on the grass next to the G30 sign). Menu is buffalo wings and whatever else we come up with. Please, and of all people on this earth, I cannot believe I am typing this, but please, remember – this day is not about football. It should be about remembering nearly 3400 innocent people who were murdered by cowardly terrorists in an attempt to destroy what makes this nation the greatest in the history of civilization.
at Chiefs (-6) 33, Bills 6. Come on, like I’d pick any other score for a game involving Buffalo when I expect us to win …
Monday, September 5, 2011
a look at the week ahead
So here’s the plan for the week.
I already posted my season long predictions*, a couple weeks ago. (If you missed them, where the hell have you been? I was early this year, rather than scrambling to get them emailed, let alone posted, with 5 seconds to spare before Thursday night kickoff!!!) I posted my thoughts on the Right 53 this morning (which, go figure, has already changed, as we apparently signed an offensive tackle today and released Anthony Becht, a move I whole-heartedly endorse, no matter who said offensive tackle is.)
(*: I stand behind my Super Bowl prediction. This is the season we have waited a freaking lifetime for, Chiefs fans. We have waited a lifetime for what awaits us.)
I am currently working on a Chiefs / MLB / summer flashback mailbag that I hope to get up on Wednesday. (I have a fantasy football draft tomorrow night, at Ugly Joe’s at 7pm (103rd and State Line). So if anyone wants to come out and mock my inept drafting procedures, feel free! We’ll be there until at least 10ish if past history of this league holds up.
The picks should go up Thursday, and I’ll probably email them out to the regular distribution list on Friday morning, as tradition dictates. (If you aren’t on said distribution list, leave your email address in the comments, I’ll add you to the nearly 30 person list! Holy crap, who would have thought that 20 years ago, when Gregg and I merged competing gambling pools in study hall together just for the hell of it, that not just 20 years of sweet friendship would emerge, but 20 years of horrendous gambling predictions would emerge as well! And that people actually look forward to seeing who I take against the spread each week! Oh. Now I get it. You bet the opposite. Smart thinking, very smart thinking …)
I am taking (or planning to take) Friday off to get the tailgating buses in working order. Thank God, “The Beast” fired up earlier today. It took two days last September to get that thing a charge, let alone turn over when you put a key in the ignition.
(Oh, and you will notice one VERY, VERY important “change” on the interior of “The Beast” if you are familiar with the setup. I believe it is amongst my finest hours. Unless you’re a denver or raiders fan, then you might be “slightly upset” at my “fixing” the pennants for your respective hellholes of a franchise.)
Also on Friday, I plan on putting the finishing touches on … wait for it … well, you’ll have to wait for it. But, but – if this thing nails together like I think it will, let’s just say, it’s on like Donkey Kong hitting a … pong?!?! I think this is amongst my most inspired ideas, and yes, I had been drinking, but if it works out like it looks like it will (we measured the boards today), let’s just say, beer pong has just been taken to a lower level!!! Wait. I mean, a higher level, yeah, a higher level! :)
Gameday Sunday, we’ll be there when the gates open. Grassy lot, to the immediate left (if you’re facing Arrowhead) or immediate right (if you’re facing Stadium Drive) of the G30 parking sign. Please, feel free to join us to kick this season off in style. Look for the red bus with a green football field roof and goalposts attached. Every one of you Chiefs fans in the stands, is one less Bills fan in there. Assuming anyone actually is a Bills fan. I think they all hopped off the bandwagon when Thurman Thomas retired. We don’t have a menu yet, waiting to see which tailgating groups are getting merged on Sunday to figure that out. But if you show up with some cold beer, you’ll be in like Sven with 95% of the folks there. (And if you show up with a handle of Polar Ice vodka, a couple bottled waters, and a couple Gatorade G2 packets, you’re in with 99% of the crowd. If “The Kid” shows up, feel free to bring a dugout to share, then you’re in like Sven across the board!)
Rumor has it there’s some delicious bacon-flavored vodka chilling in the fridge, to mix with an epic bloody mary mix, for this year’s traditional season-opening adult beverage. Screw it, it ain’t rumor, I’ve seen it. I’ve smelled it. Get your Milwaukeean on come 9:30am on Sunday readers! This team needs you, to start 2011 off as well as 2010 did!
Finally, and I cannot believe I am agreeing with Kevin Keitzman on something … but if you do come out on Sunday, and I hope every person clicking this page that is a Chiefs fan will do so … in case you’ve been living in a cave, like that eternal bastard that orchestrated what happened ten years ago on Sunday, then you know that Sunday is the ten year anniversary of 9/11.
I personally am honored to host a New York team on this awful day of remembrance. My dad’s side of the family is from New York, out Oyster Bay way in northern Long Island. My college roommate survived 9/11, literally spending that night in the shelled remains of a storefront just east of the World Trade Center complex (since the trains were shut down, and good luck finding a taxi to take you back to Queens). 9/11 is personal in a very personal way to me. So on Sunday, I join in calling for three things to happen:
a. do NOT boo the Buffalo Bills as they are introduced. You don’t have to cheer them – God knows I won’t, save for their head coach. But please, don’t boo them. Remember how EPIC Arrowhead was during the pregame ceremonies for the first game back after 9/11, against the Giants. And in that spirit …
b. let the National Anthem be the National Anthem for one day. It was on September 23, 2001. Nobody said “Home of the … CHIEFS” that day. On this day, please, repeat the honor. These bastards didn’t attack the Chiefs Kingdom, they attacked all of NFL Nation. For one day, let the Anthem play out as Francis Scott Key intended it to be read. And most importantly …
c. WHATEVER your political persuasions, when President Obama gives his pre-taped speech before kickoff, please, do NOT boo OUR President. Root like hell for him, even if you have to vomit in the stands afterwards. I can’t stand the previous guy, but I gave President Bush the respect the office deserved during his speech post-9/11. Please, do the same for President Obama. After all, if THE biggest moment of noise explosion is not when the President is guaranteed to honor our brave heroes that popped a couple caps in osama bin ladin’s dome, then you just don’t understand football. I hope I go deaf for at least 30 minutes at the explosion of euphoria when the President announces “we hunted him, we caught him, and we ELIMINATED him!” God knows I’ll be clapping like a trained Navy SEAL and/or Pauler Abdul.
Oh, and a fourth, personal Stevo request:
d. Scott Pioli: whatever price she asks, whatever demands she, uuh, demands, please, Mr. Pioli -- get Ida McBeth out on that f*cking field to perform the National Anthem. If she's not ambulatory, back the Brinks truck up to Rev. Hal Weeks. But one of those two NEEDS to sing on Sunday. Preferably the INCREDIBLE Ms. McBeth. But I'm cool with Reverend Weeks too.
(Update 9/6 9:09pm: the Chiefs have emailed out the pregame program. David Cook on the Anthem, a flyover, first responders holding a field-sized flag, and Robert DeNiro narrating a 9/11 tribute. The ONLY thing not mentioned? The balloon launch. Please, Mr. Pioli: the yellow building blocks, six of them, with the lower case c h i e f s. And fill 'em up with red, white and blue balloons to your hearts content.)
Have a great week! The season of our lifetimes is about to kick off …
I already posted my season long predictions*, a couple weeks ago. (If you missed them, where the hell have you been? I was early this year, rather than scrambling to get them emailed, let alone posted, with 5 seconds to spare before Thursday night kickoff!!!) I posted my thoughts on the Right 53 this morning (which, go figure, has already changed, as we apparently signed an offensive tackle today and released Anthony Becht, a move I whole-heartedly endorse, no matter who said offensive tackle is.)
(*: I stand behind my Super Bowl prediction. This is the season we have waited a freaking lifetime for, Chiefs fans. We have waited a lifetime for what awaits us.)
I am currently working on a Chiefs / MLB / summer flashback mailbag that I hope to get up on Wednesday. (I have a fantasy football draft tomorrow night, at Ugly Joe’s at 7pm (103rd and State Line). So if anyone wants to come out and mock my inept drafting procedures, feel free! We’ll be there until at least 10ish if past history of this league holds up.
The picks should go up Thursday, and I’ll probably email them out to the regular distribution list on Friday morning, as tradition dictates. (If you aren’t on said distribution list, leave your email address in the comments, I’ll add you to the nearly 30 person list! Holy crap, who would have thought that 20 years ago, when Gregg and I merged competing gambling pools in study hall together just for the hell of it, that not just 20 years of sweet friendship would emerge, but 20 years of horrendous gambling predictions would emerge as well! And that people actually look forward to seeing who I take against the spread each week! Oh. Now I get it. You bet the opposite. Smart thinking, very smart thinking …)
I am taking (or planning to take) Friday off to get the tailgating buses in working order. Thank God, “The Beast” fired up earlier today. It took two days last September to get that thing a charge, let alone turn over when you put a key in the ignition.
(Oh, and you will notice one VERY, VERY important “change” on the interior of “The Beast” if you are familiar with the setup. I believe it is amongst my finest hours. Unless you’re a denver or raiders fan, then you might be “slightly upset” at my “fixing” the pennants for your respective hellholes of a franchise.)
Also on Friday, I plan on putting the finishing touches on … wait for it … well, you’ll have to wait for it. But, but – if this thing nails together like I think it will, let’s just say, it’s on like Donkey Kong hitting a … pong?!?! I think this is amongst my most inspired ideas, and yes, I had been drinking, but if it works out like it looks like it will (we measured the boards today), let’s just say, beer pong has just been taken to a lower level!!! Wait. I mean, a higher level, yeah, a higher level! :)
Gameday Sunday, we’ll be there when the gates open. Grassy lot, to the immediate left (if you’re facing Arrowhead) or immediate right (if you’re facing Stadium Drive) of the G30 parking sign. Please, feel free to join us to kick this season off in style. Look for the red bus with a green football field roof and goalposts attached. Every one of you Chiefs fans in the stands, is one less Bills fan in there. Assuming anyone actually is a Bills fan. I think they all hopped off the bandwagon when Thurman Thomas retired. We don’t have a menu yet, waiting to see which tailgating groups are getting merged on Sunday to figure that out. But if you show up with some cold beer, you’ll be in like Sven with 95% of the folks there. (And if you show up with a handle of Polar Ice vodka, a couple bottled waters, and a couple Gatorade G2 packets, you’re in with 99% of the crowd. If “The Kid” shows up, feel free to bring a dugout to share, then you’re in like Sven across the board!)
Rumor has it there’s some delicious bacon-flavored vodka chilling in the fridge, to mix with an epic bloody mary mix, for this year’s traditional season-opening adult beverage. Screw it, it ain’t rumor, I’ve seen it. I’ve smelled it. Get your Milwaukeean on come 9:30am on Sunday readers! This team needs you, to start 2011 off as well as 2010 did!
Finally, and I cannot believe I am agreeing with Kevin Keitzman on something … but if you do come out on Sunday, and I hope every person clicking this page that is a Chiefs fan will do so … in case you’ve been living in a cave, like that eternal bastard that orchestrated what happened ten years ago on Sunday, then you know that Sunday is the ten year anniversary of 9/11.
I personally am honored to host a New York team on this awful day of remembrance. My dad’s side of the family is from New York, out Oyster Bay way in northern Long Island. My college roommate survived 9/11, literally spending that night in the shelled remains of a storefront just east of the World Trade Center complex (since the trains were shut down, and good luck finding a taxi to take you back to Queens). 9/11 is personal in a very personal way to me. So on Sunday, I join in calling for three things to happen:
a. do NOT boo the Buffalo Bills as they are introduced. You don’t have to cheer them – God knows I won’t, save for their head coach. But please, don’t boo them. Remember how EPIC Arrowhead was during the pregame ceremonies for the first game back after 9/11, against the Giants. And in that spirit …
b. let the National Anthem be the National Anthem for one day. It was on September 23, 2001. Nobody said “Home of the … CHIEFS” that day. On this day, please, repeat the honor. These bastards didn’t attack the Chiefs Kingdom, they attacked all of NFL Nation. For one day, let the Anthem play out as Francis Scott Key intended it to be read. And most importantly …
c. WHATEVER your political persuasions, when President Obama gives his pre-taped speech before kickoff, please, do NOT boo OUR President. Root like hell for him, even if you have to vomit in the stands afterwards. I can’t stand the previous guy, but I gave President Bush the respect the office deserved during his speech post-9/11. Please, do the same for President Obama. After all, if THE biggest moment of noise explosion is not when the President is guaranteed to honor our brave heroes that popped a couple caps in osama bin ladin’s dome, then you just don’t understand football. I hope I go deaf for at least 30 minutes at the explosion of euphoria when the President announces “we hunted him, we caught him, and we ELIMINATED him!” God knows I’ll be clapping like a trained Navy SEAL and/or Pauler Abdul.
Oh, and a fourth, personal Stevo request:
d. Scott Pioli: whatever price she asks, whatever demands she, uuh, demands, please, Mr. Pioli -- get Ida McBeth out on that f*cking field to perform the National Anthem. If she's not ambulatory, back the Brinks truck up to Rev. Hal Weeks. But one of those two NEEDS to sing on Sunday. Preferably the INCREDIBLE Ms. McBeth. But I'm cool with Reverend Weeks too.
(Update 9/6 9:09pm: the Chiefs have emailed out the pregame program. David Cook on the Anthem, a flyover, first responders holding a field-sized flag, and Robert DeNiro narrating a 9/11 tribute. The ONLY thing not mentioned? The balloon launch. Please, Mr. Pioli: the yellow building blocks, six of them, with the lower case c h i e f s. And fill 'em up with red, white and blue balloons to your hearts content.)
Have a great week! The season of our lifetimes is about to kick off …
a quick look at the fine 53
“So you take the right, and I’ll take the left;
Under arrest, we’re under fire –
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
I don’t wanna go to heaven if I can’t get in.
So you take the low, and I’ll take the high,
You lock the gate; I’ll hear the choir.
Anybody got a problem with the way I live?
Cause I don’t wanna go to heaven if I can’t get in …”
-- “Heaven” by OAR, my favorite song of the summer. Heaven returns when those gates swing wide, wide open come 8:30ish Sunday morning. God bless it, I am ready for this season! Fire up the grills, get the washer boxes out, and pour me a screwdriver, it's time to do this!!!
------------------------
I think I’ve recovered enough from the weekend to do this. And if not, well, I am never going to win an award for spelling and grammar anyways.
QB: Matt Cassel; Tyler Palko; Ricky Stanzi. I don’t think anyone is surprised by this outcome, although you could argue Stanzi outplayed Palko in the preseason. Like “The Voice of Reason”, I too am surprised the Chiefs never seriously contemplated going after a proven veteran backup like Derek Anderson or David Carr – like Gregg, I am not convinced Tyler Palko can step in and win a game for you.
RB: Thomas Jones; Jamaal Charles; Jackie Battle. I am shocked Battle made it onto the roster. I would assume he is extremely expendable. Jones and Charles, we know what we’re getting – 15-18 carries a game apiece, and Charles will be the more explosive player (while Jones, God love him, will grind out three yards a carry every time he touches the ball. I can live with that.)
FB: La’Ron McClain. No surprises here – Mike Cox has done next to nothing in his time with the team (did you realize he’s been here for four years! How? How has Mike Cox drawn a paycheck at One Arrowhead Drive for four years!) I loved the McClain signing when it happened, and I love it more now that he’s the established starter. This guy is a baller. No longer is 3rd and 2 automatically going to lead to 4th and 1. He’ll get the two damned yards.
WR1: Jerheme Urban; Steve Breaston; Jonathan Baldwin. The Chiefs have a sick abundance of talent at wide receiver. When your first round pick is essentially (depending on how you view the depth chart) your 5th or 6th option, there’s a ton of talent at the position. Especially in light of the catastrophe at the tight end position that is Tony Moeaki’s season ending injury (more on this in a moment), it’s vitally important that Breaston be the slot receiver we need to make the 3rd and 6 catch. The Chiefs have not had a reliable “sure fire” third receiver since Kevin Lockett, and that was a decade ago. A guy who you know will catch every damned thing thrown to him, a guy who runs a perfect 7 yard in on that 3rd and 6. If Breaston is garnering Team MVP talk come week 12, this season is going to be epic.
LT: Branden Albert; Jared Gaither. Do you realize the Chiefs kept as many wide receivers as they did offensive linemen? I think this means Gaither is healthy and ready to go. I think it also means Coach Haley saw the sh*tty line play that I did, and is going to be making some roster moves later this week.
LG: Ryan Lilja. Won’t get Cassel killed. A solid, dependable veteran, and we need some of those on this line right about now.
C: Casey Weigmann; Rodney Houston. Weigmann, again, a rock solid veteran center who never has a bad snap, never makes the wrong block. We need more of those guys. I like what I’ve seen in Houston, and he can play guard as well, which makes not keeping a backup guard a defendable decision. (The forecast for Sunday is 83 and mostly sunny, as of last night. Which means it’s going to be pushing 100 in the lower bowl, 105-110 on the field, if that holds true. Yet another reason I think the Chiefs will be making at least one roster move in the next couple days at OL – the heat factor on Opening Day.)
RG: Jon Asomoah. The kid is ready to go. This position does not concern me in the least, he’s up to the challenge. I fully believe he’ll be the next great guard in a long line of them for the Chiefs – the only two players to man this position in the last 20 some odd years are Brian Waters and Will Shields, with John Alt and EJ Holib before them. It’s a 35 year tradition of excellence, at least. Asomoah is the latest in a long line of excellence.
RT: Barry Richardson. NOW this gets interesting. Richardson was decent last year. He was dog-crappy awful in the preseason this year. And if Palko has to go Sunday, then Richardson has the blind side. Yikes. Let’s just say, if I was Bill Muir, I’d be focusing every ounce of attention on the offensive line this week at right tackle, the other four positions we’re good to go at …
WR2: Dwayne Bowe; Dexter McCluster; Terrence Copper; Keary Colbert. I’m a little surprised Colbert made it over Verran Tucker, but Colbert did have a solid preseason. Wouldn’t shock me if through injury and attrition, Tucker is resigned at some point, I hate to give up on him, he showed definite potential last year in a trying situation. We know what we have in Bowe – flashes of the spectacular, moments of “what the f*ck is this moron doing?!?!”, never more perfectly highlighted than by his catch and run at Green Bay last week – a beautiful crossing route, burns the coverage, rumbles 30 yards … and fumbles (thankfully, out of bounds) when tackled. The question mark is DMC – can he stay healthy? If he’s healthy, he’s a potential game changer. Watching him in the passing game reminds me so much of Dante Hall last decade. (I also LOVE that Bill Muir has brought back my favorite play from the Vermeil era – the quick toss to the slot WR (used to be Dante Hall, now it’s DMC), and the receiver just runs forward. Sure fire first down 6 years ago. I think it will be again.
TE: Leonard Pope; Jake O’Connell; Anthony Becht. Becht making the roster confirms what my suspicions were when Tony Moeaki was lost for the season – tight end simply isn’t going to be a major position this year. It’s now a 6th offensive lineman. I expect to see a LOT of four wide formations, or even three wide with two backs (likely Charles and DMC) next to Cassel in the gun this year. Pope and Becht are both tremendous blockers with decent hands, but no speed. O’Connell made the roster for special teams, and deservedly so.
Offensive Coordinator: Bill Muir. I loved the hire of Muir, and nothing I have seen this preseason has changed my opinion. If anything, it’s only strengthened it. He’s a competent play caller who’s not going to put Matt Cassel in a position that he can’t handle. (The last team to win a Super Bowl without a quote/unquote “franchise quarterback” under center? The 2002 Bucs. Their play caller? Bill Muir. The guy can flat out coach). Also don’t overlook the influence of Jim Zorn, possibly our best offseason acquisition. Zorn is a brilliant offensive mind who turned Joe Flacco, Matt Hasselbeck, and Trent Dilfer into Pro Bowl quarterbacks. His input into the game plan will be a tremendous positive.
LDE: Tyson Jackson; Allen Bailey; Amon Gordon. Yikes. This … this might be the worst depth chart at LDE in the entire league. Let’s just hope these guys simply are average, that would be a victory.
NT: Kelly Gregg; Jerrell Powe. No surprises here. In hindsight, letting Edwards go and signing Kelly Gregg was a brilliant move, given that Edwards blew out his knee and is done for the season, if not his career. I like Powe, really promising young talent. Reminds me a lot of Joe Phillips. I think we have a keeper with this kid.
RDE: Glenn Dorsey; Wallace Gilberry; Brandon Blair. I’d personally have liked to see the Chiefs experiment with Gilberry in Jackson’s slot, but I have no complaints about this position. Dorsey is solid, but not spectacular. Gilberry will show off some spectacular moves and moments, but will whiff on a simple draw play. It’s a trade off that should work for the Chiefs.
LOLB: Andy Studebaker; Cameron Sheffield; Justin Houston. I fully expect Houston to be starting by the time San Diego rolls into town on Halloween night. If this kid can lay off the weed for a few weeks, he’s going to be a great one. Sick talent and potential. I like Studebaker, but you can only hold off the next great LB in this franchise’s history for so long. Besides, Studebaker is much more suited to be a third down backer who covers the safety valve – he does that very well.
LILB: Jovan Belcher. Time to sink or swim, kid. I think he’ll swim.
RILB: Derrick Johnson; Demorrio Williams; Cory Greenwood. Let’s just hope and pray Derrick Johnson is healthy enough to take 90 percent of the defensive snaps this year. If not more.
ROLB: Tamba Hali. If Joe Theismann was still calling the Monday Night games (and thank Jesus he’s not), you could have expected him to say something like “Tamba Hali has developed into everything Scott Pioli thought he could be when he drafted him”. (pause). No, Scott Pioli did not draft Hali; Carl Peterson did. For as awful as the early 2000s drafts were, once Bill Kuharick came on board before the 2005 draft, things turned around in a hurry in the player personnel department.
LCB: Brandon Flowers; Travis Daniels. No complaints, no surprises. Flowers’ progression indicates he’s making a Pro Bowl come late December.
RCB: Brandon Carr; Javier Arenas; Jalil Brown. Again, no complaints, no surprises. Carr might be the most underrated corner in the league. And the Chiefs definitely field the most underrated secondary in the league.
SS: Eric Berry; Donald Washington. Berry is already one of the five best safeties in the league. Washington is a competent backup who rarely gets embarrassed. Can’t ask for more than that out of your last line of defense.
FS: Kendrick Lewis; Jon McGraw; Sabby Piscatelli. Lewis might have been my favorite Chiefs player by the end of last season. His growth was awesome to watch unfold. McGraw is a competent backup who never gets embarrassed. I didn’t even know we had a Sabby Piscatelli on the preseason roster, to be honest. Guessing he’ll be shown the door if/when we pick up some OL depth.
Defensive Coordinator: Romeo Crennel. I loved what Crennel did in the preseason, essentially using the gameplan as his own personal sandbox, to try different stuff out and see what worked and what didn’t. Anyone who treats a preseason game with even an ounce of credibility needs serious help. It’s a glorified scrimmage that I pay $84 for the privilege of skipping twice a summer. Glad to see our coaching staff agrees with me that it’s a time to experiment, not a time to practice the week one game plan.
P: Dusty Colquitt. I’m shocked the Chiefs didn’t bring in any competition for Dusty C. He’s starting to slip. He needs a solid rebound season. Of course, if the Chiefs offense is even half as good as I think it’s going to be, Dusty C won’t be getting as many chances to pin the opposition as he’s used to, which is a very good thing. The less Dusty C is on the field, the better the odds of victory.
K: Ryan Succup. The only thing I care about a kicker, is that they’re automatic inside of 40, barring insane weather conditions. On a typical gameday, there is zero excuse for missing any kick inside of 40 yards. Succup has missed 3 in two years, and one of those 3 was in the sick wind during the Bills game last year (he redeemed himself later in overtime, perfectly compensating for said wind on his second try). So only two brain farts in two years, none of which affected the outcome of a game. Fits my definition of what I want in a kicker.
KR/PR: Javier Arenas; Dexter McCluster; Steve Breaston. Three solid options, although I prefer Arenas handle all return duties.
Special Teams Coordinator: Steve Hoffman. One of the best in the business, and it shows year after year, as the Chiefs under his watch have routinely ranked amongst the best in the league at all key special teams categories.
Overall thoughts: by far and away the most talented roster the Chiefs have had on Opening Day since 2006. And despite how awful that season started (to this day, I believed for a solid 3 minutes that Trent Green was dead on the field), we still rallied, made the playoffs, and had one helluva ride along the way. It's time to do it all over again. Except this time, without the "whoa, Trent Green isn't moving ... and doesn't look like he's breathing either" part ...
Under arrest, we’re under fire –
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
I don’t wanna go to heaven if I can’t get in.
So you take the low, and I’ll take the high,
You lock the gate; I’ll hear the choir.
Anybody got a problem with the way I live?
Cause I don’t wanna go to heaven if I can’t get in …”
-- “Heaven” by OAR, my favorite song of the summer. Heaven returns when those gates swing wide, wide open come 8:30ish Sunday morning. God bless it, I am ready for this season! Fire up the grills, get the washer boxes out, and pour me a screwdriver, it's time to do this!!!
------------------------
I think I’ve recovered enough from the weekend to do this. And if not, well, I am never going to win an award for spelling and grammar anyways.
QB: Matt Cassel; Tyler Palko; Ricky Stanzi. I don’t think anyone is surprised by this outcome, although you could argue Stanzi outplayed Palko in the preseason. Like “The Voice of Reason”, I too am surprised the Chiefs never seriously contemplated going after a proven veteran backup like Derek Anderson or David Carr – like Gregg, I am not convinced Tyler Palko can step in and win a game for you.
RB: Thomas Jones; Jamaal Charles; Jackie Battle. I am shocked Battle made it onto the roster. I would assume he is extremely expendable. Jones and Charles, we know what we’re getting – 15-18 carries a game apiece, and Charles will be the more explosive player (while Jones, God love him, will grind out three yards a carry every time he touches the ball. I can live with that.)
FB: La’Ron McClain. No surprises here – Mike Cox has done next to nothing in his time with the team (did you realize he’s been here for four years! How? How has Mike Cox drawn a paycheck at One Arrowhead Drive for four years!) I loved the McClain signing when it happened, and I love it more now that he’s the established starter. This guy is a baller. No longer is 3rd and 2 automatically going to lead to 4th and 1. He’ll get the two damned yards.
WR1: Jerheme Urban; Steve Breaston; Jonathan Baldwin. The Chiefs have a sick abundance of talent at wide receiver. When your first round pick is essentially (depending on how you view the depth chart) your 5th or 6th option, there’s a ton of talent at the position. Especially in light of the catastrophe at the tight end position that is Tony Moeaki’s season ending injury (more on this in a moment), it’s vitally important that Breaston be the slot receiver we need to make the 3rd and 6 catch. The Chiefs have not had a reliable “sure fire” third receiver since Kevin Lockett, and that was a decade ago. A guy who you know will catch every damned thing thrown to him, a guy who runs a perfect 7 yard in on that 3rd and 6. If Breaston is garnering Team MVP talk come week 12, this season is going to be epic.
LT: Branden Albert; Jared Gaither. Do you realize the Chiefs kept as many wide receivers as they did offensive linemen? I think this means Gaither is healthy and ready to go. I think it also means Coach Haley saw the sh*tty line play that I did, and is going to be making some roster moves later this week.
LG: Ryan Lilja. Won’t get Cassel killed. A solid, dependable veteran, and we need some of those on this line right about now.
C: Casey Weigmann; Rodney Houston. Weigmann, again, a rock solid veteran center who never has a bad snap, never makes the wrong block. We need more of those guys. I like what I’ve seen in Houston, and he can play guard as well, which makes not keeping a backup guard a defendable decision. (The forecast for Sunday is 83 and mostly sunny, as of last night. Which means it’s going to be pushing 100 in the lower bowl, 105-110 on the field, if that holds true. Yet another reason I think the Chiefs will be making at least one roster move in the next couple days at OL – the heat factor on Opening Day.)
RG: Jon Asomoah. The kid is ready to go. This position does not concern me in the least, he’s up to the challenge. I fully believe he’ll be the next great guard in a long line of them for the Chiefs – the only two players to man this position in the last 20 some odd years are Brian Waters and Will Shields, with John Alt and EJ Holib before them. It’s a 35 year tradition of excellence, at least. Asomoah is the latest in a long line of excellence.
RT: Barry Richardson. NOW this gets interesting. Richardson was decent last year. He was dog-crappy awful in the preseason this year. And if Palko has to go Sunday, then Richardson has the blind side. Yikes. Let’s just say, if I was Bill Muir, I’d be focusing every ounce of attention on the offensive line this week at right tackle, the other four positions we’re good to go at …
WR2: Dwayne Bowe; Dexter McCluster; Terrence Copper; Keary Colbert. I’m a little surprised Colbert made it over Verran Tucker, but Colbert did have a solid preseason. Wouldn’t shock me if through injury and attrition, Tucker is resigned at some point, I hate to give up on him, he showed definite potential last year in a trying situation. We know what we have in Bowe – flashes of the spectacular, moments of “what the f*ck is this moron doing?!?!”, never more perfectly highlighted than by his catch and run at Green Bay last week – a beautiful crossing route, burns the coverage, rumbles 30 yards … and fumbles (thankfully, out of bounds) when tackled. The question mark is DMC – can he stay healthy? If he’s healthy, he’s a potential game changer. Watching him in the passing game reminds me so much of Dante Hall last decade. (I also LOVE that Bill Muir has brought back my favorite play from the Vermeil era – the quick toss to the slot WR (used to be Dante Hall, now it’s DMC), and the receiver just runs forward. Sure fire first down 6 years ago. I think it will be again.
TE: Leonard Pope; Jake O’Connell; Anthony Becht. Becht making the roster confirms what my suspicions were when Tony Moeaki was lost for the season – tight end simply isn’t going to be a major position this year. It’s now a 6th offensive lineman. I expect to see a LOT of four wide formations, or even three wide with two backs (likely Charles and DMC) next to Cassel in the gun this year. Pope and Becht are both tremendous blockers with decent hands, but no speed. O’Connell made the roster for special teams, and deservedly so.
Offensive Coordinator: Bill Muir. I loved the hire of Muir, and nothing I have seen this preseason has changed my opinion. If anything, it’s only strengthened it. He’s a competent play caller who’s not going to put Matt Cassel in a position that he can’t handle. (The last team to win a Super Bowl without a quote/unquote “franchise quarterback” under center? The 2002 Bucs. Their play caller? Bill Muir. The guy can flat out coach). Also don’t overlook the influence of Jim Zorn, possibly our best offseason acquisition. Zorn is a brilliant offensive mind who turned Joe Flacco, Matt Hasselbeck, and Trent Dilfer into Pro Bowl quarterbacks. His input into the game plan will be a tremendous positive.
LDE: Tyson Jackson; Allen Bailey; Amon Gordon. Yikes. This … this might be the worst depth chart at LDE in the entire league. Let’s just hope these guys simply are average, that would be a victory.
NT: Kelly Gregg; Jerrell Powe. No surprises here. In hindsight, letting Edwards go and signing Kelly Gregg was a brilliant move, given that Edwards blew out his knee and is done for the season, if not his career. I like Powe, really promising young talent. Reminds me a lot of Joe Phillips. I think we have a keeper with this kid.
RDE: Glenn Dorsey; Wallace Gilberry; Brandon Blair. I’d personally have liked to see the Chiefs experiment with Gilberry in Jackson’s slot, but I have no complaints about this position. Dorsey is solid, but not spectacular. Gilberry will show off some spectacular moves and moments, but will whiff on a simple draw play. It’s a trade off that should work for the Chiefs.
LOLB: Andy Studebaker; Cameron Sheffield; Justin Houston. I fully expect Houston to be starting by the time San Diego rolls into town on Halloween night. If this kid can lay off the weed for a few weeks, he’s going to be a great one. Sick talent and potential. I like Studebaker, but you can only hold off the next great LB in this franchise’s history for so long. Besides, Studebaker is much more suited to be a third down backer who covers the safety valve – he does that very well.
LILB: Jovan Belcher. Time to sink or swim, kid. I think he’ll swim.
RILB: Derrick Johnson; Demorrio Williams; Cory Greenwood. Let’s just hope and pray Derrick Johnson is healthy enough to take 90 percent of the defensive snaps this year. If not more.
ROLB: Tamba Hali. If Joe Theismann was still calling the Monday Night games (and thank Jesus he’s not), you could have expected him to say something like “Tamba Hali has developed into everything Scott Pioli thought he could be when he drafted him”. (pause). No, Scott Pioli did not draft Hali; Carl Peterson did. For as awful as the early 2000s drafts were, once Bill Kuharick came on board before the 2005 draft, things turned around in a hurry in the player personnel department.
LCB: Brandon Flowers; Travis Daniels. No complaints, no surprises. Flowers’ progression indicates he’s making a Pro Bowl come late December.
RCB: Brandon Carr; Javier Arenas; Jalil Brown. Again, no complaints, no surprises. Carr might be the most underrated corner in the league. And the Chiefs definitely field the most underrated secondary in the league.
SS: Eric Berry; Donald Washington. Berry is already one of the five best safeties in the league. Washington is a competent backup who rarely gets embarrassed. Can’t ask for more than that out of your last line of defense.
FS: Kendrick Lewis; Jon McGraw; Sabby Piscatelli. Lewis might have been my favorite Chiefs player by the end of last season. His growth was awesome to watch unfold. McGraw is a competent backup who never gets embarrassed. I didn’t even know we had a Sabby Piscatelli on the preseason roster, to be honest. Guessing he’ll be shown the door if/when we pick up some OL depth.
Defensive Coordinator: Romeo Crennel. I loved what Crennel did in the preseason, essentially using the gameplan as his own personal sandbox, to try different stuff out and see what worked and what didn’t. Anyone who treats a preseason game with even an ounce of credibility needs serious help. It’s a glorified scrimmage that I pay $84 for the privilege of skipping twice a summer. Glad to see our coaching staff agrees with me that it’s a time to experiment, not a time to practice the week one game plan.
P: Dusty Colquitt. I’m shocked the Chiefs didn’t bring in any competition for Dusty C. He’s starting to slip. He needs a solid rebound season. Of course, if the Chiefs offense is even half as good as I think it’s going to be, Dusty C won’t be getting as many chances to pin the opposition as he’s used to, which is a very good thing. The less Dusty C is on the field, the better the odds of victory.
K: Ryan Succup. The only thing I care about a kicker, is that they’re automatic inside of 40, barring insane weather conditions. On a typical gameday, there is zero excuse for missing any kick inside of 40 yards. Succup has missed 3 in two years, and one of those 3 was in the sick wind during the Bills game last year (he redeemed himself later in overtime, perfectly compensating for said wind on his second try). So only two brain farts in two years, none of which affected the outcome of a game. Fits my definition of what I want in a kicker.
KR/PR: Javier Arenas; Dexter McCluster; Steve Breaston. Three solid options, although I prefer Arenas handle all return duties.
Special Teams Coordinator: Steve Hoffman. One of the best in the business, and it shows year after year, as the Chiefs under his watch have routinely ranked amongst the best in the league at all key special teams categories.
Overall thoughts: by far and away the most talented roster the Chiefs have had on Opening Day since 2006. And despite how awful that season started (to this day, I believed for a solid 3 minutes that Trent Green was dead on the field), we still rallied, made the playoffs, and had one helluva ride along the way. It's time to do it all over again. Except this time, without the "whoa, Trent Green isn't moving ... and doesn't look like he's breathing either" part ...
Sunday, September 4, 2011
a quick thank you for the best summer of my life
“Whoa.
Never gonna grow up.
Whoa.
Never gonna slow down.
Whoa.
We were shining like lighters in the dark
In the middle of a rock show.
Whoa.
We were doing it right.
Whoa.
We were coming alive.
Whoa.
Yeah caught up in a Southern summer
Barefoot Blue Jean night …”
-- Jake Owen, “Blue Jean Barefoot Night”. Just enjoy the video. If you can’t want a day like that, then you will never get the appeal of a float trip, or a day on the lake. That, and you’re damned right I’m never gonna grow up. At least as long as I can avoid it …
-------------------
I know I still owe you a recap of Y’allapalooza (sorry DJ – it’s the official name of the concert, the “palooza” designation stays) but my quick thoughts on that are:
1. Eric Church rocked the house and then some.
2. David Nail is amazing, and
3. Holy crap, is Hunter Hayes good! I’ve argued with “The Ex” about this for a week now, but as much as I loved Eric Church, and as great as David Nail was, Hunter Hayes’ set was the best 45 minutes of the night. This kid’s talent is just sick. I love seeing greatness in front of me. This kid is going to be phenomenally great. (And he’s just 20! Are you effing kidding me! Seriously, if you don’t know who this guy is, spend the $1.29 on iTunes and download the “Storm Warning” single. Or go to youtube! and watch the video. He’s 20 … and playing every god d*mned instrument in the video! (And he played every damned instrument on stage at some point last weekend to boot – it’s not for show. This kid is crazy sick talented.)
No, rather, I wanted to just post a few words of thanks to the people that made the Summer of a Lifetime possible. I spent my Sunday evening (after waking up from a solid nap after Roddick’s third round victory, Go Andy GO!!! If he beats David Ferrer (to be fair, a tough, tough task) late tomorrow* or Tuesday night, then Rafa Nadal is next. Roddick, to reach the Finals, has to go through the world’s number 5 (Ferrer), 2 (Nadal), and 4 (Murray), barring upsets. And if he survives that insane gauntlet, he likely gets Djokovic (1) or Federer (3). Four of the top 5 in the world (Roddick is 21), potentially in the span of 120 hours. Uuh, yes? Please? Pretty please? God I love the US Open! And not just because every Andy Roddick match guarantees you two straight hours of gratuitous shots of his lovely better half Brooklyn Decker …), anyways, I spent my Sunday evening having one last dinner on the back deck, grilled out in the West Wing, with the folks that are in essence my second family. And on most days, hell, I like ‘em better than my actual family.
(*: if I’m Roddick, I want the 4pm ET slot at Arthur Ashe tomorrow. And since CBS wants it as well, figure it’ll happen. Why? Because Labor Day weekend at the Open is sick. Think Connors’ incredible run at the Open two decades ago. OK, I remember that, since I’m old, when a 41 year old Jimmy Connors somehow made the semis, fueled by his epic upset on Labor Day against (I believe) Boris Becker. I’m too damned lazy to Google it and confirm it, but the Labor Day comeback (down 2-0, faced multiple match points in the third set) still makes me smile. I refused to leave the couch in my folks’ main room that day, and me not going outside on the last weekend of summer was unthinkable even back then. Roddick needs to take the same approach -- the crowd will be COMPLETELY behind him, and he’d have a national TV audience on CBS. Win that one, and set up the showdown with Nadal on Wednesday night? Best night of tennis since Agassi and Sampras threw down one final time in the quarters at the 2002 Open, or since Nadal emerged onto the national scene by upsetting Roddick in the quarters at the 2007 Open. Either way, the winners? Us, the audience.)
So, I wanted to post a quick thanks to a few folks for making this unbelievable summer of fun, frivolity, tomfoolery and hijinks possible.
Since I’m a man of few words (yeah right), I’ll just be brief.
Thank you to Gregg, for continuing to be “The Voice of Reason”, and for coming up with THE best idea (non-river related) of the summer: the Fed Ex Playoffs Gambling Pool! We usually bet on the Majors, but the PGA is in mid August. What to do until the Masters next April? Easy. Gambling pool on the playoffs. I know he’s not my golfer, but I am rooting like holy hell for William “Mr. 125 … excuse me, Mr. 96” McGirt, the last golfer in the field who somehow is still alive. All “Mister 96” has to do to survive two more weeks … is basically post par tomorrow. Come on Billy! I want to change that 96 to any number higher than 71 tomorrow night …
Also thanks to Brent, for joining us in said gambling excursion. And I promise any and all IRS employees reading this: I will file a 1099 if I win. (I assume, due to my gambling wins/losses, I’ll want to do that anyways, like I always do.)
Major thanks to Russ and Mona for continuing to offer the best summer setup imaginable: watching NASCAR while floating in a pool. And the “pay in advance” sign on the beer machine was pure comedic gold*. Best summer ever.
(*: yes, it’s up to $.75 / beer … fully payable by the $50 some odd dollars of quarters on top of the machine. It ain’t the cheapest, coldest beer in Raytown for nothing folks!)
Thanks to the rest of the pool “regulars” – Nancy, Susan, Larry and Karen, Stacey and Jose, Joycie and Jerry. We definitely are the talent pool of the two worst volleyball teams imaginable.
Thanks to “The Crush” for her annual appearance at the pool. I’m still drafting you number one next summer, under the dream that you’ll lead my side to at least score 4 points.
Also, thanks to two of my best friends, DJ and Kellie. Not just for being yourselves, because you’re awesome enough as you are. And not even for my ability to call you two “damned good friends of mine”, because that’s sweet too*. But for being willing to take a chance, take a risk, and try to make it together in this life. I love you guys.
(*: Katie is known as “your friend” by DJ to Kellie. She’s not “his” friend, she’s “her” friend. That will never fail to crack me up. Oh, speaking of “The Ex” …)
I would not have wanted to share this summer with anyone else, chica. It was epic, it was awesome, and while, in the words of Ronnie Milsap, I “wouldn’t have missed it for the world”, I definitely wouldn’t have wanted anyone else recording my drunk ass halfway lit in the river, fist pumping to Tears for Fears.
Anyone I forgot, I apologize – it was one helluva long and epic summer. (stevo raising beer) Here’s to believing this wasn’t the last great one.
(stevo offering the traditional season opening toast next Sunday voice) And here’s to believing the greatest Chiefs season of most of our lifetimes is kicking off less than 180 hours from now …
Never gonna grow up.
Whoa.
Never gonna slow down.
Whoa.
We were shining like lighters in the dark
In the middle of a rock show.
Whoa.
We were doing it right.
Whoa.
We were coming alive.
Whoa.
Yeah caught up in a Southern summer
Barefoot Blue Jean night …”
-- Jake Owen, “Blue Jean Barefoot Night”. Just enjoy the video. If you can’t want a day like that, then you will never get the appeal of a float trip, or a day on the lake. That, and you’re damned right I’m never gonna grow up. At least as long as I can avoid it …
-------------------
I know I still owe you a recap of Y’allapalooza (sorry DJ – it’s the official name of the concert, the “palooza” designation stays) but my quick thoughts on that are:
1. Eric Church rocked the house and then some.
2. David Nail is amazing, and
3. Holy crap, is Hunter Hayes good! I’ve argued with “The Ex” about this for a week now, but as much as I loved Eric Church, and as great as David Nail was, Hunter Hayes’ set was the best 45 minutes of the night. This kid’s talent is just sick. I love seeing greatness in front of me. This kid is going to be phenomenally great. (And he’s just 20! Are you effing kidding me! Seriously, if you don’t know who this guy is, spend the $1.29 on iTunes and download the “Storm Warning” single. Or go to youtube! and watch the video. He’s 20 … and playing every god d*mned instrument in the video! (And he played every damned instrument on stage at some point last weekend to boot – it’s not for show. This kid is crazy sick talented.)
No, rather, I wanted to just post a few words of thanks to the people that made the Summer of a Lifetime possible. I spent my Sunday evening (after waking up from a solid nap after Roddick’s third round victory, Go Andy GO!!! If he beats David Ferrer (to be fair, a tough, tough task) late tomorrow* or Tuesday night, then Rafa Nadal is next. Roddick, to reach the Finals, has to go through the world’s number 5 (Ferrer), 2 (Nadal), and 4 (Murray), barring upsets. And if he survives that insane gauntlet, he likely gets Djokovic (1) or Federer (3). Four of the top 5 in the world (Roddick is 21), potentially in the span of 120 hours. Uuh, yes? Please? Pretty please? God I love the US Open! And not just because every Andy Roddick match guarantees you two straight hours of gratuitous shots of his lovely better half Brooklyn Decker …), anyways, I spent my Sunday evening having one last dinner on the back deck, grilled out in the West Wing, with the folks that are in essence my second family. And on most days, hell, I like ‘em better than my actual family.
(*: if I’m Roddick, I want the 4pm ET slot at Arthur Ashe tomorrow. And since CBS wants it as well, figure it’ll happen. Why? Because Labor Day weekend at the Open is sick. Think Connors’ incredible run at the Open two decades ago. OK, I remember that, since I’m old, when a 41 year old Jimmy Connors somehow made the semis, fueled by his epic upset on Labor Day against (I believe) Boris Becker. I’m too damned lazy to Google it and confirm it, but the Labor Day comeback (down 2-0, faced multiple match points in the third set) still makes me smile. I refused to leave the couch in my folks’ main room that day, and me not going outside on the last weekend of summer was unthinkable even back then. Roddick needs to take the same approach -- the crowd will be COMPLETELY behind him, and he’d have a national TV audience on CBS. Win that one, and set up the showdown with Nadal on Wednesday night? Best night of tennis since Agassi and Sampras threw down one final time in the quarters at the 2002 Open, or since Nadal emerged onto the national scene by upsetting Roddick in the quarters at the 2007 Open. Either way, the winners? Us, the audience.)
So, I wanted to post a quick thanks to a few folks for making this unbelievable summer of fun, frivolity, tomfoolery and hijinks possible.
Since I’m a man of few words (yeah right), I’ll just be brief.
Thank you to Gregg, for continuing to be “The Voice of Reason”, and for coming up with THE best idea (non-river related) of the summer: the Fed Ex Playoffs Gambling Pool! We usually bet on the Majors, but the PGA is in mid August. What to do until the Masters next April? Easy. Gambling pool on the playoffs. I know he’s not my golfer, but I am rooting like holy hell for William “Mr. 125 … excuse me, Mr. 96” McGirt, the last golfer in the field who somehow is still alive. All “Mister 96” has to do to survive two more weeks … is basically post par tomorrow. Come on Billy! I want to change that 96 to any number higher than 71 tomorrow night …
Also thanks to Brent, for joining us in said gambling excursion. And I promise any and all IRS employees reading this: I will file a 1099 if I win. (I assume, due to my gambling wins/losses, I’ll want to do that anyways, like I always do.)
Major thanks to Russ and Mona for continuing to offer the best summer setup imaginable: watching NASCAR while floating in a pool. And the “pay in advance” sign on the beer machine was pure comedic gold*. Best summer ever.
(*: yes, it’s up to $.75 / beer … fully payable by the $50 some odd dollars of quarters on top of the machine. It ain’t the cheapest, coldest beer in Raytown for nothing folks!)
Thanks to the rest of the pool “regulars” – Nancy, Susan, Larry and Karen, Stacey and Jose, Joycie and Jerry. We definitely are the talent pool of the two worst volleyball teams imaginable.
Thanks to “The Crush” for her annual appearance at the pool. I’m still drafting you number one next summer, under the dream that you’ll lead my side to at least score 4 points.
Also, thanks to two of my best friends, DJ and Kellie. Not just for being yourselves, because you’re awesome enough as you are. And not even for my ability to call you two “damned good friends of mine”, because that’s sweet too*. But for being willing to take a chance, take a risk, and try to make it together in this life. I love you guys.
(*: Katie is known as “your friend” by DJ to Kellie. She’s not “his” friend, she’s “her” friend. That will never fail to crack me up. Oh, speaking of “The Ex” …)
I would not have wanted to share this summer with anyone else, chica. It was epic, it was awesome, and while, in the words of Ronnie Milsap, I “wouldn’t have missed it for the world”, I definitely wouldn’t have wanted anyone else recording my drunk ass halfway lit in the river, fist pumping to Tears for Fears.
Anyone I forgot, I apologize – it was one helluva long and epic summer. (stevo raising beer) Here’s to believing this wasn’t the last great one.
(stevo offering the traditional season opening toast next Sunday voice) And here’s to believing the greatest Chiefs season of most of our lifetimes is kicking off less than 180 hours from now …
floatapalooza tres: where "hey, play that "winners like me" song!" happens ...
“Well it was Friday in the pm.
And just like every weekend,
I was ready to throw down.
Yeah I get a little tore up,
So I called my bros up,
To meet me out on the town.
Well Wild Man Willy
Said I’d like to really,
But “Idol” was on TV.
And Ray had a date
With his wife, and Nate
Quit drinkin’ but he didn’t tell me.
Am I the only one who wants to have fun tonight?
Is there anybody out there,
Wants to have a cold beer,
Kick it til the morning light?
If I have to raise hell all by myself
I will, but y’all that ain’t right.
Its time to get it on!
Am I the only one
Who wants to have fun tonight?”
-- Dierks Bentley, “Am I the Only One”. Its official: the summer of 2011 will forever be known as “The Summer Stevo Officially Admits He Likes Country Music”. Somewhere, my mom is turning over in her recliner at her finally winning one of life’s battles against me …
I am going to open this post by making a somewhat surprising admission.
I love vodka.
No, that is not the surprising admission – I think everyone who knows me has at one point or another, dropped the “why don’t you just get an IV with vodka in it already” blast at me.
And as you would expect someone who views his relationship with a handle of Smirnoff’s as a mutual love to say, I drink a lot. I have a very unhealthy tolerance level for alcohol*. I can definitely handle more booze than the average bear, and be no worse for wear. What can I say, it’s a family blessing.
(*: you laugh, but if you know me at all, you know that statement is absolute fact. Nobody can drink more than me and still be standing at the end of the day. On the other hand, my first hit on the dugout or the blunt, and I am guaranteed to puke. Not the last hit, not even the 50th hit, only the first. It makes absolutely no sense to me either – I can chug with the best of them with no ramifications, but the first inhale NEVER goes down right. Hell, it was a running gag on the couch at Stubbs – “pass the trash can, it’s Stevo’s turn!” I have no idea why I share these things with you, other than I think these are things you want to know. That, and I am one seriously f*cked up individual.)
Yesterday, when we hit our final beaching point on the river, and wound up picking up two really fun people that we closed down Shadow Lake* with, when we reached that point, that moment was without question the drunkest I have ever been in my life without passing out or puking (or both). I literally could not stand up, I was so hammered. I had to crawl back to the boat on the bottom of the river in order to get more booze.
(*: I am beginning to fall in love with that bar. And those of you who know me well, know that I hate bars that are basically dancing clubs. Mainly because I can’t dance worth a damn. Shadow Lake Surf Club? Rocks. Next summer, Shadow Lake, you and me will get acquainted again!)
How did I reach this state of intoxication? Read on to find out …
* For the record, I plowed through about half a case of Budweiser, a case of bottled water, two cases of Gatorade powder mixer … and a whole handle of vodka. By 4pm on Saturday. The vodka handle was full to the top when we left Saturday morning. It was gone with a mile and a half still to float. Yes, I drank a handle of vodka in barely six hours. And other than being unable to actually stand up, I was completely ambulatory!
* Left about 6pm Friday for the river. We had to wait for Melissa to get off of work and make the drive out to Raytown. I was not a happy camper – when I float, I prefer to get there by 5ish, get everything set up when there’s still daylight out, and then meet and greet with the neighbors and enjoy a couple hours sitting in the river, tossing back a couple cold ones, and hitting the dugout. It’s a float trip dammit! Good friends, good booze, good bud, good times!
* Katie had a craving for Jimmy John’s, so we stopped in Harrisonville to get a sandwich and some gas. It took us nearly 2 hours to get from the pool to the Ville. That is ridiculous. Now, granted, we stopped for food and booze, and the lake traffic getting off at the Clinton exit was insane, but it should never take two hours to get from Raytown to the Ville. It is at this point that I said “I’m driving”, and that was that. Barely two hours later, we were checking in at the Beach known as Shady. I may not be good for a lot, but I am fairly certain that other than DJ and possibly Brent, NOBODY will get you to your destination faster than me.
* Since we kind of planned this thing at the last minute*, we had to take what we could find. In this case, Shady Beach in the outskirts of beautiful Noel, Missouri. I cannot think of a more appropriately named joint than Shady Beach. First, because the biggest beach-out area on the float is their campsite (it’s about the halfway point on the 8 miler. If you’ve ever floated the Elk, you’ve beached there at some point.) So they have that going for them.
(*: last minute, as in the “float or no float” question was decided at 3pm Thursday. I should have known that if a joint on the Elk still has space available 24 hours out on the last floating weekend of the summer, and it’s a 100 degree day in the forecast, that it’s probably not the best place to stay. Oh well, the trip itself rocked. Oh, and speaking of rocked …)
What they did NOT have going for them was anyone with a clue of what a float trip should be. We checked in a little before 10pm. The nice security guy then took us to our campsite, which was basically a gigantic rock pile with a little patch of grass. Great. Just great. Like my lower back doesn’t have enough issues. We manage to get the tent up, get the air mattresses inflated, and sit down to have a couple beers. I fire up the iPod, at a sound level that the neighbors could not hear it. I intentionally kept it quiet, since it was pushing 11pm. Didn’t matter – that “nice” security guy came storming up and informed us that “quiet time begins at 11”. No music, period. (stevo sighing in disgust) REALLY?!?! This was a bigger outrage than the bars in Gering have a 12:30pm last call. There’s a word for an 11pm “quiet time” on a float trip – SHADY!
And did I mention that our camp site was a f*cking pile of rocks? Of course, the grassy site right next to us? Went completely unused all weekend. On behalf of my back, which is in traction this afternoon, thanks Shady Beach! You’re the best. No, really – the pleasure of sleeping on a f*cking quarry was all mine, all mine.
After realizing that there were zip, zero, nada party people staying at this place, and pounding a couple beers, I was done-zo. After all, it ain’t a float trip unless I’m the first one of the group passing out.
* The funniest moment from Friday night? It was one of two things. Either (a) all the awful, craptacular 80s music I had downloaded on the iPod*, and realizing that Melissa was not alive for that entire decade of music … but my vote goes to (b) I get to the port-a-potty after having a couple, it’s about midnight, and it’s pitch black in there. I kept trying to turn the handle to lock the damned thing, and kept failing. It was not turning. Thankfully, there was a line behind me, so nobody was walking in but still, you always want to lock the port-a-potty. I go the next morning when I wake up to use it again … and realize that the lock, is a slide handle, not a turn handle. I am a f*cking genius sometimes.
(*: included in the playlist was “Make Me Lose Control” by Eric Carman, “We Built This City” by Starship, “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears (you’ll hear them in a video link in a couple more paragraphs. Stay tuned – it is without question my “finest hour” as a “responsible adult”) … and oh hell to the yes, “Soldier of Love” by Donny Osmond. “Like a thief in the night / Who can’t get enough / I am willing to fight / Cause I am a solider of love!” I mean, Jesus, WHO CAME UP WITH THESE LYRICS? And why do I love this song so damned much …)
*Saturday morning, I wake up (as usual) at 7ish, and head outside and fire up the laptop so that the iPod can recharge before the float. When I notice, holy moly, the Beach known as Shady has wifi! Sweet! So I click to log in, and am told I need the password. No big deal, I think, so I head up to the store / check-in place, and ask for the wifi password. Turns out, you have to rent a cabin to have wifi access. After staring at the moron behind the counter with a “really? You didn’t ever consider that folks in a tent might, I don’t know, BRING A EFFING LAPTOP WITH THEM!!!” look, I head back. Shady.
Thankfully, I have enough “Family Guy” and “NCIS” episodes downloaded on iTunes to entertain entire countries. Let alone me for 30 minutes while waiting for everyone to get up and going. My selection? “PTV”. It NEVER gets old. Never. And for the record, I absolutely would watch a Wednesday lineup composed of “You Cheeky Bastard”, “Dogs Humping”, “The Side Boob Hour”, and close the night down with a very special “I Dare You to Crap Off That” episode of “Douchebags”.
That, and calling fellatio a “trowser friendly kiss” is still laugh-out-loud funny six years later.
* OK, ok, fine, since I know at least two loyal readers are saying it after seeing that prime time lineup, here you go. “Check out that side boob! Look at that side boob! How about this side boob? That turn you on? Well it shouldn’t, because that’s my side boob. Good night everybody!”
* Everyone got up and moving, we had some breakfast, and after loading up the coolers, it was off for Floatapalooza Tres! And no, I do not give two sh*ts what a certain person named Dustin says, sticking “palooza” at the end of something is NOT stupid, is NOT gay*, is NOT retarded, and IS cool. So stuff that in your dugout and inhale it.
(*: I checked with Stevo’s Site Numero Dos’s resident gayologist, and he had no issues with saying something was “not gay”. Then again, I’ve never seen Donnie offended by anything, even blatant racists who resent him and/or his orientation, so take that blanket waiver for what it’s worth. And since I haven’t worked this story in yet, this is as good a time as any. I love Donnie because he’s so damned funny. So, at DJ and Kellie’s pool bash disguised as yet another reception, I think I can say, and everyone who was there that day and witnessed it will agree with me, THE funniest moment of 2011 so far was seeing Donnie’s reaction at meeting Damien for the first time. I thought we were gonna need a forklift to get his jaw off the patio. Nobody around him could stop laughing for a solid five minutes afterwards. I mean, it was a “slack jawed yokel” level of “OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT!” expression.)
* They put us in north … or is it east? … whatever, we were put in before the bridge. Always a good thing – jumping off that bridge is tradition dammit! Except … the water was so low, not even I was willing to risk it. That will go down as one of, if not the, biggest failure of 2011 – not jumping off the bridge on the Elk.
* You want proof this was an epic “yup, Stevo is WASTED!” day? I give you proof, barely one mile into the float:
(check out that side boob! video: katie, via my snapp camera. And for the record ladies – I am single, and very much available …)
* And we definitely were out there for more than a mile at that point. Also, in my defense – it was 104 degrees out there yesterday. Apparently extreme heat + drinking heavily = a video 99.99% of America would destroy, but since I’m in the 0.01% that knows making fun of yourself beats the hell out of everybody else making fun of you, well, there you go, 30 seconds of my life that I amazingly remember. And yes, that was Tears for Fears playing on the iPod. I told you I had a ton of sh*tty 80s music on there!
* So it’s pushing 2:30, maybe 3pm, and to be honest, I’m getting hungry. I’ve been drinking patented Stevo cocktails since 8am. I need some food. I drop the “you know what sounds really good right now? A hot dog loaded up with mustard!” comment out of nowhere … and wouldn’t you know it? We round a corner, and Katie goes “does that sign say Free Food Stop Here!” I’m freaking blind without my glasses, but eventually I confirm it is! Free food! Oh hell yes we beached there!
And that hot dog (loaded with mustard) and Cool Ranch Doritos absolutely hit the spot. Now who, you ask, would just give random people floating by a dog and some chips and some liquid refreshment of a non-alcoholic variety? The key there is the last four words of the previous sentence. Yes, it was a church group.
Specifically, some kind of outreach of multiple churches. We find a table as far away as possible, and go figure, one of the dudes putting this on wanders up and asks us how we’re doing. I can only imagine the thoughts running through his head at seeing my drunk ass, barely able to walk at this point, with the “man whore” bracelet in full on display in front of him*. He then asks if he can tell us about Jesus, and why not, they’re feeding us after all.
(*: again, ladies – I am single. I know – I can’t possibly imagine why either.)
After the most uncomfortable ten minutes I have ever spent on the river, and I am fully aware I slept on a f*cking pile of rocks the last two nights, after the most uncomfortable ten minutes I have ever spent on the river, it was back onto said river. To the dude’s credit, he wasn’t pushy or preachy, and he appeared to have as little regard for organized religion as I do. (He flat out said “I am not religious, I am all about Jesus”. Good for him. Too bad 99.98% of your fellow parishioners are the EXACT opposite of you.) And the hot dogs hit the freaking spot. I hope the day went as well for them as they hoped it would.
* Well, after the downer portion, comes the fun portion. We beach at the last major stopping point before the final stopping point. When we meet dude number one who had lost his group. All he wanted was “a beer man. I just need another beer”. Hey, I recognize a dying alcoholic when I see one! (stevo looking in the mirror … yup, recognized another one!) I would be lying if I said I remembered the dude’s name. What I do remember, and again, at this point, I literally could not stand, I remember he had a TON of beads draped around his neck, and every raft, canoe, kayak, and or random “whoa, where’d my group go?!?!” straggler who past us, he kept asking every even semi-decent looking female “hey! Wanna earn some beads?” His group finally caught up with him, and go figure, they were the only chicks earning beads. I’m pretty sure when you basically reward yourself, you aren’t earning sh*t. (dusty voice) no kidding Stevo – they’re earning beads! (rimshot!) Wow, that might be the single worst one liner joke I’ve ever written. That was epically awful. Moving on.
* Not moving on? Me. I attempted to climb the tree and jump into the river. I was so inebriated that I literally slipped off not even halfway up. So wait, maybe I couldn’t walk after that because I was “injured” on the attempted tree jump? F*ck it, we’re going with that. I was “injured jumping from a tree”. Done and done.
* Then two more stragglers came along. These two were keepers. The one guy, shaved head, I have no effing clue what his name was, but he gets mention for three reasons. (a) He was pounding the beer faster than I was chugging the vodka, (b) he thankfully took over piloting the raft the rest of the way back, because I was freaking exhausted (oh, and unable to stand without assistance too, thank you “tree injury”!), and (c) he reminded me of Tyler, the shaved head dude who was forcibly evicted from Shadow Lake last time, and who did his damndest to roo-een my favorite t-shirt. Thankfully, he just reminded me of that guy because of the shaved head. This guy was fun. He met up with us at Shadow Lake later on.
The other guy? Awesome. His name was Bryan. He’s supposedly tailgating with us at the home opener now. And if Donnie or Joe Knows Football sees him, we definitely will need the forklift to get their jaws off the floor. This guy had no interest in going back to his group because “they don’t want to have fun”. Ooh! Good start. A second thing in his favor? He loved the playlist. Anyone who not only appreciates a playlist that (literally) in a row spits out “Regulate” by Warren G and Nate Dogg, “Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not” by Thompson Square, “Down With the Sickness” by Disturbed, and the capper … hang on, we’re saving the capper for the Shadow Lake Surf Club portion of this recap, because I gotta say, the song involved might have been the funnest 5 minutes of my life that didn’t involve penetration of some kind.
* So Bryan, even though he’s staying at River Ranch, decides “f*ck it”, and decides to kick it with us the rest of the night. After everyone takes turns knocking everyone off the raft into the river*, we finally reach the final beach out, and Bryan hops on our bus back to the Beach known as Shady. To Shady’s credit, they didn’t make you wait around for other floaters – they took off right away.
(*: I’d been waiting three weeks to pay Katie back for the “Bye Bye Bye” push. I NAILED IT! DJ, you’re next champ. I owe you a decade’s worth of dunkings. And you ain’t using the “sorry, I’m holding the iPod” excuse next year, that boat has sailed pal.)
* We spent the next three hours playing music, hanging out, having some hot dogs, having a great time. Even the dead-ass neighbors joined in with some music for the playlist*. At this point, it was still in the low 100s. How do I know this? Well, my drunk ass thought taking a shower would be a brilliant idea before we headed out to Shadow Lake. (In my defense: it was. I stunk. I believe Melissa’s description was “a healthy mix of vodka and beer” to describe my, uuh, smell come 6pm Saturday.) Not a brilliant idea? Taking a shower without a towel to dry off. I did the shake it off maneuver, threw on the “I Heart Beer” boxers and some shorts, and headed back to our site, maybe a 3 minute walk. Again, no towel, I’m dripping like a dog emerging from a lake.
By the time I got back to the campsite? I was completely dry, save for a little bit of my hair. That’s some heat folks, that’s some effing heat!
(*: unfunny moment from Saturday morning: said neighbors kid was infatuated with the dry ice they were using for some reason. I know, dry ice, “cracked”. Anyways, she loved the smoke coming off of it. She’s maybe 11, 12 years old? God knows I’m awful at guessing ages, but she isn’t voting in an election until at least 2020. (democrat operative) the hell she’s not! What’s her name? (rimshot!) Anyways, her dad and/or male authority figure absolutely comes unhinged at her using the dry ice, and not just me, but multiple people around them were looking at each other with a “are we really going to have to step in and keep him from beating up his kid?!?!” look. There is a time and a place to verbally berate and/or physically threaten your kid. In a public place, in front of multiple witnesses, is NOT one of those times. Especially over something as f*cking stupid as wasting the dry ice.)
* And yes, Bryan was a huge Eric Church fan. So huge ... that he kept asking us to play that "Winners Like Me" song. Winners ... sinners ... pretty much the same thing right? At least in my book.
* We set out for Shadow Lake once the sun sets. As I noted more than once, “the moon is in a really screwy location”, and I wasn’t nuts on this one – it’s 9pm and the moon was in the far western sky. How does that happen? Both the moon and the sun rise in the east and set in the west, right?
Anyways, after the debacle of the last float trip, we realized we’d have to stop at River Ranch so Bryan could grab a shirt. (Another reason to love the guy? He absolutely agreed with me that a freaking bar named “Surf Club” on a river should be shirts optional. Especially when it’s still 102 degrees outside at 9:12pm (the actual temp on the car gauge when we got there). Even inflated by a couple degrees, that’s damned hot.)
Next funny moment? The admissions bracelet last night has “VIP” stamped all over it. I don’t care what this says about me, but if a joint that runs a six week “Homemade Bikini Contest” every summer that advertises “Skin to Win!”, and they stamp me as a “VIP”? I’m doubling down.
I wasn’t in there even five minutes before some god awful rap / R&B song came on. I think it was by Flo Rida. Anyways, sign 1,038,487,639 I am hammered: I hit the dance floor. Bryan wound up hitting on this decent looking chick sitting next to us all night long. Hopefully he sealed the deal, she was cute. Anyways, between her group and our group, we dominated that dance floor. Dominated.
OK, so we’ve been there for about an hour, hour and a half, when Bryan’s buddy re-appears, and more hilarity ensues. More dancing ensues. I’ve volunteered* to be the DD again, so I’m not drinking, but everybody else is POUNDING the fish bowls like they’re going out of business. I counted seven fishbowls downed in a couple hours between us and the table next to us with the chick Bryan wanted to get with. I did have a couple sips of the blue one – it was strong. This might explain Sunday’s “response” to the fishbowls from at least one floater.
(*: by “volunteered”, I mean “I was told by everyone else that I was the DD”. DD duties are becoming like calling shotgun – you gotta say “NOT IT” before anyone has the chance to dump it on you apparently. And yes, five hours earlier, I literally could not stand without assistance. Now, I’m the DD. Floatapalooza everyone!!!)
Next great moment? “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey comes onto the bar’s playlist. And literally, nobody was dancing, nobody was ordering drinks, the entire god damned bar stopped and sang along as one. I was fist pumping. I was feeling it. It was epically awesome.
But ... it gets better.
Because the very next song? After bringing the house down with the most epic anthem of the 1980s? Bring it down again. Because after all, we’re at the Shadow Lake Surf Club on the last floating weekend of the summer. I think we ALL are “Friends in Low Places” at that point.
Sadly, it was not the version that had the “long lost” third verse, because I really wanted to shout that ending out.
“Hey I didn’t mean,
To cause a big scene,
Just wait til I finish this glass.
Then sweet little lady,
I’ll head back to the bar …
AND YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!!!!”
God I love that song.
Oh but wait! We ain’t done yet! Because as epically awesome as spending ten drunken minutes of your life singing to Journey and Garth Brooks with random strangers is, THE piece de resistance, THE moment of 2011, occurred two songs later.
Ladies and gentlemen, and not so lady-like chicas* and not-quite-gentlemenly dudes, I give you THE greatest random bar moment of a generation, if not a lifetime.
(*: again, I am single. Just in case you’re an attractive female of loose moral values who is feeling a little frisky.)
* Because after some crappy auto-tune enhanced dance song … (usher voice) OMG. As I noted as SOON as the first note hit, “goddammit, I forgot the camera! Of ALL the times to forget the camera!” Because a moment like this deserves to be recorded and posted for the world to witness.
If only because, if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own two (blurred) eyes, I would not believe a moment like this was possible.
Shadow Lake Surf Club, take a bow champ. You have TOTALLY redeemed yourself from the “T-Shirt Fiasco of 2011” dude*! Because there are moments in life that are fun. There are moments in life that are precious. There are moments in life you treasure.
And then there are moments in life that you will take with you, in the words of Herb Brooks, “to your f*cking grave!”
(*: also redeeming Shadow Lake? Oh hell to the yes, they have trough urinals! I love the trough urinals, because (a) you can’t miss, (b) you can’t miss, and (c) you can’t miss. Your aim could be off by five feet, and you’re still peeing in the “toilet”. They’re awesome. Even better? These things are wooden! A wooden pisser! I’m telling you, this place TOTALLY did a 180 from its first appearance this summer. A total 180. I cannot wait to go back. Preferably during the six week stretch of the 27th annual homemade bikini contest come next June and early July.)
Now, I admit that I love me some old-school country music. And when it comes to “old school country music”, it does not get any better than THE best country song ever written.
As soon as the opening note played, I instantly knew what the song was. It had already played on the river to massive compliments by Bryan. Hell, the artist of this song? THE greatest country song of all time? At least two people there last night were there, because their folks met at one of his concerts. And yes, that is a true story – this man is so epically awesome, this song is so epically awesome, that at least two lives exist solely and completely because of his awesomeness*!
(*: uuh, booze and/or other assorted party favors may have been involved too. Just like last night!)
The song? Oh, sweet Jesus yes.
“The only time I know
I’ll hear David Allan Coe
Is when Jesus has
His final judgment day!!!!
So I’ll hang around as long as you will let me!
And I never minded standing in the rain!
You don’t have to call me darlin’, darlin’.
You never even called me by my name!”
When I heard the opening and starting shouting out loud to every word, I got a “you have GOT to be kidding me” look from at least one fellow floater. (OK, it was Katie.) By the time the first chorus hit, the ENTIRE bar was singing along to every word. I led a revolution, and damned if it didn’t feel good! If you have a better random bar moment than nearly 100 people shouting out in unison “You don’t have to call me Waylon Jennings! / And you don’t have to call me Charlie Pride! / And you don’t have to call me Merle Haggard anymore!”, then congratulations. Your life is even more blessed than mine is. But God bless it, THAT ROCKED!
* We made it until 1ish. I think the place was closing soon, because it was starting to clear out pretty quick. That, or Noel’s finest had a DUI checkpoint coming. Either way, we said our goodbyes to our new floatin’ buddy Bryan*, and it was “look out, Stevo’s behind the wheel!” off for the Beach known as Shady.
(*: the other amazing thing of this guy? That Katie can know a dude named Bryan and not immediately call him a … well, it rhymes with “masshole”. Actually, just drop the m from “masshole”, and toss a f bomb in front of it, and that’ll work. Miracles happen.)
* We somehow make it back. I’ll be honest – I was in no shape to drive. But I was in far better shape than anybody else, since I’d been dry for almost four hours at this point. If we were staying at River Ranch, we’d just walk back from the bar, no problems. If we were staying at Kozy Kamp, I know the way back, no problem. Plus the road is so windy that you have to go slow. But the Beach known as Shady? Not a damned clue what I’m doing. Somehow, I found the entrance, we make it in, and after realizing everyone was asleep, we joined them in the sweet sleep that only a highly intoxicated person can know.
* Sunday drive back? Absolutely it rained. God forbid one road trip ever go down without moisture from the sky dropping down. We left about 8am, made a couple stops, and by 11ish, I was home, ready to type up this recap and watch Andy Roddick at the Open (and not necessarily in that order. I know I get made fun of for a lot of things, but this should not be one of them. I watch exactly two weeks of tennis a year – I am addicted to the US Open. If you have a problem with that, I feel sorry for you – the US Open is THE most underrated sporting event on the calendar.)
So I guess this means summer is just about done. Next week right now, I’ll hopefully have the feet propped up in my beloved Rolling Rock chair, fresh off watching the Chiefs beat the Bills. Dear God, the NFL starts in four days! How did we ever get here!
When I look back at Summer of 2011, honestly? This has been the funnest summer of my life. Three epically awesome float trips, two epically awesome roadies to Nebraska, and seeing two of the best friends a guy could ever be lucky enough to have start their life together*. Awesome stuff.
(Sadly, only one floater was with the happy couple, and it wasn’t on the Elk. Next summer, it’s on like Donkey Kong hitting a bong! Or is that us hitting a bong on the couch? Either way, we’re getting DJ out on the dance floor at Shadow Lake, and I am definitely dunking his ass in the river. MULTIPLE TIMES. It’s coming champ. It’s effing coming.)
So if this is the end, what a run. I could not have had a better time than the last 12 some odd weeks have been. And now, the Season of our Lifetimes is about to begin come high noon on Sunday. I just ask one thing of you if you come out and join in breaking the NFL season in.
Please … you don’t have to call me darlin’, darlin’ … but at least call me by my name. Deal? Deal. :)
And just like every weekend,
I was ready to throw down.
Yeah I get a little tore up,
So I called my bros up,
To meet me out on the town.
Well Wild Man Willy
Said I’d like to really,
But “Idol” was on TV.
And Ray had a date
With his wife, and Nate
Quit drinkin’ but he didn’t tell me.
Am I the only one who wants to have fun tonight?
Is there anybody out there,
Wants to have a cold beer,
Kick it til the morning light?
If I have to raise hell all by myself
I will, but y’all that ain’t right.
Its time to get it on!
Am I the only one
Who wants to have fun tonight?”
-- Dierks Bentley, “Am I the Only One”. Its official: the summer of 2011 will forever be known as “The Summer Stevo Officially Admits He Likes Country Music”. Somewhere, my mom is turning over in her recliner at her finally winning one of life’s battles against me …
I am going to open this post by making a somewhat surprising admission.
I love vodka.
No, that is not the surprising admission – I think everyone who knows me has at one point or another, dropped the “why don’t you just get an IV with vodka in it already” blast at me.
And as you would expect someone who views his relationship with a handle of Smirnoff’s as a mutual love to say, I drink a lot. I have a very unhealthy tolerance level for alcohol*. I can definitely handle more booze than the average bear, and be no worse for wear. What can I say, it’s a family blessing.
(*: you laugh, but if you know me at all, you know that statement is absolute fact. Nobody can drink more than me and still be standing at the end of the day. On the other hand, my first hit on the dugout or the blunt, and I am guaranteed to puke. Not the last hit, not even the 50th hit, only the first. It makes absolutely no sense to me either – I can chug with the best of them with no ramifications, but the first inhale NEVER goes down right. Hell, it was a running gag on the couch at Stubbs – “pass the trash can, it’s Stevo’s turn!” I have no idea why I share these things with you, other than I think these are things you want to know. That, and I am one seriously f*cked up individual.)
Yesterday, when we hit our final beaching point on the river, and wound up picking up two really fun people that we closed down Shadow Lake* with, when we reached that point, that moment was without question the drunkest I have ever been in my life without passing out or puking (or both). I literally could not stand up, I was so hammered. I had to crawl back to the boat on the bottom of the river in order to get more booze.
(*: I am beginning to fall in love with that bar. And those of you who know me well, know that I hate bars that are basically dancing clubs. Mainly because I can’t dance worth a damn. Shadow Lake Surf Club? Rocks. Next summer, Shadow Lake, you and me will get acquainted again!)
How did I reach this state of intoxication? Read on to find out …
* For the record, I plowed through about half a case of Budweiser, a case of bottled water, two cases of Gatorade powder mixer … and a whole handle of vodka. By 4pm on Saturday. The vodka handle was full to the top when we left Saturday morning. It was gone with a mile and a half still to float. Yes, I drank a handle of vodka in barely six hours. And other than being unable to actually stand up, I was completely ambulatory!
* Left about 6pm Friday for the river. We had to wait for Melissa to get off of work and make the drive out to Raytown. I was not a happy camper – when I float, I prefer to get there by 5ish, get everything set up when there’s still daylight out, and then meet and greet with the neighbors and enjoy a couple hours sitting in the river, tossing back a couple cold ones, and hitting the dugout. It’s a float trip dammit! Good friends, good booze, good bud, good times!
* Katie had a craving for Jimmy John’s, so we stopped in Harrisonville to get a sandwich and some gas. It took us nearly 2 hours to get from the pool to the Ville. That is ridiculous. Now, granted, we stopped for food and booze, and the lake traffic getting off at the Clinton exit was insane, but it should never take two hours to get from Raytown to the Ville. It is at this point that I said “I’m driving”, and that was that. Barely two hours later, we were checking in at the Beach known as Shady. I may not be good for a lot, but I am fairly certain that other than DJ and possibly Brent, NOBODY will get you to your destination faster than me.
* Since we kind of planned this thing at the last minute*, we had to take what we could find. In this case, Shady Beach in the outskirts of beautiful Noel, Missouri. I cannot think of a more appropriately named joint than Shady Beach. First, because the biggest beach-out area on the float is their campsite (it’s about the halfway point on the 8 miler. If you’ve ever floated the Elk, you’ve beached there at some point.) So they have that going for them.
(*: last minute, as in the “float or no float” question was decided at 3pm Thursday. I should have known that if a joint on the Elk still has space available 24 hours out on the last floating weekend of the summer, and it’s a 100 degree day in the forecast, that it’s probably not the best place to stay. Oh well, the trip itself rocked. Oh, and speaking of rocked …)
What they did NOT have going for them was anyone with a clue of what a float trip should be. We checked in a little before 10pm. The nice security guy then took us to our campsite, which was basically a gigantic rock pile with a little patch of grass. Great. Just great. Like my lower back doesn’t have enough issues. We manage to get the tent up, get the air mattresses inflated, and sit down to have a couple beers. I fire up the iPod, at a sound level that the neighbors could not hear it. I intentionally kept it quiet, since it was pushing 11pm. Didn’t matter – that “nice” security guy came storming up and informed us that “quiet time begins at 11”. No music, period. (stevo sighing in disgust) REALLY?!?! This was a bigger outrage than the bars in Gering have a 12:30pm last call. There’s a word for an 11pm “quiet time” on a float trip – SHADY!
And did I mention that our camp site was a f*cking pile of rocks? Of course, the grassy site right next to us? Went completely unused all weekend. On behalf of my back, which is in traction this afternoon, thanks Shady Beach! You’re the best. No, really – the pleasure of sleeping on a f*cking quarry was all mine, all mine.
After realizing that there were zip, zero, nada party people staying at this place, and pounding a couple beers, I was done-zo. After all, it ain’t a float trip unless I’m the first one of the group passing out.
* The funniest moment from Friday night? It was one of two things. Either (a) all the awful, craptacular 80s music I had downloaded on the iPod*, and realizing that Melissa was not alive for that entire decade of music … but my vote goes to (b) I get to the port-a-potty after having a couple, it’s about midnight, and it’s pitch black in there. I kept trying to turn the handle to lock the damned thing, and kept failing. It was not turning. Thankfully, there was a line behind me, so nobody was walking in but still, you always want to lock the port-a-potty. I go the next morning when I wake up to use it again … and realize that the lock, is a slide handle, not a turn handle. I am a f*cking genius sometimes.
(*: included in the playlist was “Make Me Lose Control” by Eric Carman, “We Built This City” by Starship, “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears (you’ll hear them in a video link in a couple more paragraphs. Stay tuned – it is without question my “finest hour” as a “responsible adult”) … and oh hell to the yes, “Soldier of Love” by Donny Osmond. “Like a thief in the night / Who can’t get enough / I am willing to fight / Cause I am a solider of love!” I mean, Jesus, WHO CAME UP WITH THESE LYRICS? And why do I love this song so damned much …)
*Saturday morning, I wake up (as usual) at 7ish, and head outside and fire up the laptop so that the iPod can recharge before the float. When I notice, holy moly, the Beach known as Shady has wifi! Sweet! So I click to log in, and am told I need the password. No big deal, I think, so I head up to the store / check-in place, and ask for the wifi password. Turns out, you have to rent a cabin to have wifi access. After staring at the moron behind the counter with a “really? You didn’t ever consider that folks in a tent might, I don’t know, BRING A EFFING LAPTOP WITH THEM!!!” look, I head back. Shady.
Thankfully, I have enough “Family Guy” and “NCIS” episodes downloaded on iTunes to entertain entire countries. Let alone me for 30 minutes while waiting for everyone to get up and going. My selection? “PTV”. It NEVER gets old. Never. And for the record, I absolutely would watch a Wednesday lineup composed of “You Cheeky Bastard”, “Dogs Humping”, “The Side Boob Hour”, and close the night down with a very special “I Dare You to Crap Off That” episode of “Douchebags”.
That, and calling fellatio a “trowser friendly kiss” is still laugh-out-loud funny six years later.
* OK, ok, fine, since I know at least two loyal readers are saying it after seeing that prime time lineup, here you go. “Check out that side boob! Look at that side boob! How about this side boob? That turn you on? Well it shouldn’t, because that’s my side boob. Good night everybody!”
* Everyone got up and moving, we had some breakfast, and after loading up the coolers, it was off for Floatapalooza Tres! And no, I do not give two sh*ts what a certain person named Dustin says, sticking “palooza” at the end of something is NOT stupid, is NOT gay*, is NOT retarded, and IS cool. So stuff that in your dugout and inhale it.
(*: I checked with Stevo’s Site Numero Dos’s resident gayologist, and he had no issues with saying something was “not gay”. Then again, I’ve never seen Donnie offended by anything, even blatant racists who resent him and/or his orientation, so take that blanket waiver for what it’s worth. And since I haven’t worked this story in yet, this is as good a time as any. I love Donnie because he’s so damned funny. So, at DJ and Kellie’s pool bash disguised as yet another reception, I think I can say, and everyone who was there that day and witnessed it will agree with me, THE funniest moment of 2011 so far was seeing Donnie’s reaction at meeting Damien for the first time. I thought we were gonna need a forklift to get his jaw off the patio. Nobody around him could stop laughing for a solid five minutes afterwards. I mean, it was a “slack jawed yokel” level of “OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT!” expression.)
* They put us in north … or is it east? … whatever, we were put in before the bridge. Always a good thing – jumping off that bridge is tradition dammit! Except … the water was so low, not even I was willing to risk it. That will go down as one of, if not the, biggest failure of 2011 – not jumping off the bridge on the Elk.
* You want proof this was an epic “yup, Stevo is WASTED!” day? I give you proof, barely one mile into the float:
(check out that side boob! video: katie, via my snapp camera. And for the record ladies – I am single, and very much available …)
* And we definitely were out there for more than a mile at that point. Also, in my defense – it was 104 degrees out there yesterday. Apparently extreme heat + drinking heavily = a video 99.99% of America would destroy, but since I’m in the 0.01% that knows making fun of yourself beats the hell out of everybody else making fun of you, well, there you go, 30 seconds of my life that I amazingly remember. And yes, that was Tears for Fears playing on the iPod. I told you I had a ton of sh*tty 80s music on there!
* So it’s pushing 2:30, maybe 3pm, and to be honest, I’m getting hungry. I’ve been drinking patented Stevo cocktails since 8am. I need some food. I drop the “you know what sounds really good right now? A hot dog loaded up with mustard!” comment out of nowhere … and wouldn’t you know it? We round a corner, and Katie goes “does that sign say Free Food Stop Here!” I’m freaking blind without my glasses, but eventually I confirm it is! Free food! Oh hell yes we beached there!
And that hot dog (loaded with mustard) and Cool Ranch Doritos absolutely hit the spot. Now who, you ask, would just give random people floating by a dog and some chips and some liquid refreshment of a non-alcoholic variety? The key there is the last four words of the previous sentence. Yes, it was a church group.
Specifically, some kind of outreach of multiple churches. We find a table as far away as possible, and go figure, one of the dudes putting this on wanders up and asks us how we’re doing. I can only imagine the thoughts running through his head at seeing my drunk ass, barely able to walk at this point, with the “man whore” bracelet in full on display in front of him*. He then asks if he can tell us about Jesus, and why not, they’re feeding us after all.
(*: again, ladies – I am single. I know – I can’t possibly imagine why either.)
After the most uncomfortable ten minutes I have ever spent on the river, and I am fully aware I slept on a f*cking pile of rocks the last two nights, after the most uncomfortable ten minutes I have ever spent on the river, it was back onto said river. To the dude’s credit, he wasn’t pushy or preachy, and he appeared to have as little regard for organized religion as I do. (He flat out said “I am not religious, I am all about Jesus”. Good for him. Too bad 99.98% of your fellow parishioners are the EXACT opposite of you.) And the hot dogs hit the freaking spot. I hope the day went as well for them as they hoped it would.
* Well, after the downer portion, comes the fun portion. We beach at the last major stopping point before the final stopping point. When we meet dude number one who had lost his group. All he wanted was “a beer man. I just need another beer”. Hey, I recognize a dying alcoholic when I see one! (stevo looking in the mirror … yup, recognized another one!) I would be lying if I said I remembered the dude’s name. What I do remember, and again, at this point, I literally could not stand, I remember he had a TON of beads draped around his neck, and every raft, canoe, kayak, and or random “whoa, where’d my group go?!?!” straggler who past us, he kept asking every even semi-decent looking female “hey! Wanna earn some beads?” His group finally caught up with him, and go figure, they were the only chicks earning beads. I’m pretty sure when you basically reward yourself, you aren’t earning sh*t. (dusty voice) no kidding Stevo – they’re earning beads! (rimshot!) Wow, that might be the single worst one liner joke I’ve ever written. That was epically awful. Moving on.
* Not moving on? Me. I attempted to climb the tree and jump into the river. I was so inebriated that I literally slipped off not even halfway up. So wait, maybe I couldn’t walk after that because I was “injured” on the attempted tree jump? F*ck it, we’re going with that. I was “injured jumping from a tree”. Done and done.
* Then two more stragglers came along. These two were keepers. The one guy, shaved head, I have no effing clue what his name was, but he gets mention for three reasons. (a) He was pounding the beer faster than I was chugging the vodka, (b) he thankfully took over piloting the raft the rest of the way back, because I was freaking exhausted (oh, and unable to stand without assistance too, thank you “tree injury”!), and (c) he reminded me of Tyler, the shaved head dude who was forcibly evicted from Shadow Lake last time, and who did his damndest to roo-een my favorite t-shirt. Thankfully, he just reminded me of that guy because of the shaved head. This guy was fun. He met up with us at Shadow Lake later on.
The other guy? Awesome. His name was Bryan. He’s supposedly tailgating with us at the home opener now. And if Donnie or Joe Knows Football sees him, we definitely will need the forklift to get their jaws off the floor. This guy had no interest in going back to his group because “they don’t want to have fun”. Ooh! Good start. A second thing in his favor? He loved the playlist. Anyone who not only appreciates a playlist that (literally) in a row spits out “Regulate” by Warren G and Nate Dogg, “Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not” by Thompson Square, “Down With the Sickness” by Disturbed, and the capper … hang on, we’re saving the capper for the Shadow Lake Surf Club portion of this recap, because I gotta say, the song involved might have been the funnest 5 minutes of my life that didn’t involve penetration of some kind.
* So Bryan, even though he’s staying at River Ranch, decides “f*ck it”, and decides to kick it with us the rest of the night. After everyone takes turns knocking everyone off the raft into the river*, we finally reach the final beach out, and Bryan hops on our bus back to the Beach known as Shady. To Shady’s credit, they didn’t make you wait around for other floaters – they took off right away.
(*: I’d been waiting three weeks to pay Katie back for the “Bye Bye Bye” push. I NAILED IT! DJ, you’re next champ. I owe you a decade’s worth of dunkings. And you ain’t using the “sorry, I’m holding the iPod” excuse next year, that boat has sailed pal.)
* We spent the next three hours playing music, hanging out, having some hot dogs, having a great time. Even the dead-ass neighbors joined in with some music for the playlist*. At this point, it was still in the low 100s. How do I know this? Well, my drunk ass thought taking a shower would be a brilliant idea before we headed out to Shadow Lake. (In my defense: it was. I stunk. I believe Melissa’s description was “a healthy mix of vodka and beer” to describe my, uuh, smell come 6pm Saturday.) Not a brilliant idea? Taking a shower without a towel to dry off. I did the shake it off maneuver, threw on the “I Heart Beer” boxers and some shorts, and headed back to our site, maybe a 3 minute walk. Again, no towel, I’m dripping like a dog emerging from a lake.
By the time I got back to the campsite? I was completely dry, save for a little bit of my hair. That’s some heat folks, that’s some effing heat!
(*: unfunny moment from Saturday morning: said neighbors kid was infatuated with the dry ice they were using for some reason. I know, dry ice, “cracked”. Anyways, she loved the smoke coming off of it. She’s maybe 11, 12 years old? God knows I’m awful at guessing ages, but she isn’t voting in an election until at least 2020. (democrat operative) the hell she’s not! What’s her name? (rimshot!) Anyways, her dad and/or male authority figure absolutely comes unhinged at her using the dry ice, and not just me, but multiple people around them were looking at each other with a “are we really going to have to step in and keep him from beating up his kid?!?!” look. There is a time and a place to verbally berate and/or physically threaten your kid. In a public place, in front of multiple witnesses, is NOT one of those times. Especially over something as f*cking stupid as wasting the dry ice.)
* And yes, Bryan was a huge Eric Church fan. So huge ... that he kept asking us to play that "Winners Like Me" song. Winners ... sinners ... pretty much the same thing right? At least in my book.
* We set out for Shadow Lake once the sun sets. As I noted more than once, “the moon is in a really screwy location”, and I wasn’t nuts on this one – it’s 9pm and the moon was in the far western sky. How does that happen? Both the moon and the sun rise in the east and set in the west, right?
Anyways, after the debacle of the last float trip, we realized we’d have to stop at River Ranch so Bryan could grab a shirt. (Another reason to love the guy? He absolutely agreed with me that a freaking bar named “Surf Club” on a river should be shirts optional. Especially when it’s still 102 degrees outside at 9:12pm (the actual temp on the car gauge when we got there). Even inflated by a couple degrees, that’s damned hot.)
Next funny moment? The admissions bracelet last night has “VIP” stamped all over it. I don’t care what this says about me, but if a joint that runs a six week “Homemade Bikini Contest” every summer that advertises “Skin to Win!”, and they stamp me as a “VIP”? I’m doubling down.
I wasn’t in there even five minutes before some god awful rap / R&B song came on. I think it was by Flo Rida. Anyways, sign 1,038,487,639 I am hammered: I hit the dance floor. Bryan wound up hitting on this decent looking chick sitting next to us all night long. Hopefully he sealed the deal, she was cute. Anyways, between her group and our group, we dominated that dance floor. Dominated.
OK, so we’ve been there for about an hour, hour and a half, when Bryan’s buddy re-appears, and more hilarity ensues. More dancing ensues. I’ve volunteered* to be the DD again, so I’m not drinking, but everybody else is POUNDING the fish bowls like they’re going out of business. I counted seven fishbowls downed in a couple hours between us and the table next to us with the chick Bryan wanted to get with. I did have a couple sips of the blue one – it was strong. This might explain Sunday’s “response” to the fishbowls from at least one floater.
(*: by “volunteered”, I mean “I was told by everyone else that I was the DD”. DD duties are becoming like calling shotgun – you gotta say “NOT IT” before anyone has the chance to dump it on you apparently. And yes, five hours earlier, I literally could not stand without assistance. Now, I’m the DD. Floatapalooza everyone!!!)
Next great moment? “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey comes onto the bar’s playlist. And literally, nobody was dancing, nobody was ordering drinks, the entire god damned bar stopped and sang along as one. I was fist pumping. I was feeling it. It was epically awesome.
But ... it gets better.
Because the very next song? After bringing the house down with the most epic anthem of the 1980s? Bring it down again. Because after all, we’re at the Shadow Lake Surf Club on the last floating weekend of the summer. I think we ALL are “Friends in Low Places” at that point.
Sadly, it was not the version that had the “long lost” third verse, because I really wanted to shout that ending out.
“Hey I didn’t mean,
To cause a big scene,
Just wait til I finish this glass.
Then sweet little lady,
I’ll head back to the bar …
AND YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!!!!”
God I love that song.
Oh but wait! We ain’t done yet! Because as epically awesome as spending ten drunken minutes of your life singing to Journey and Garth Brooks with random strangers is, THE piece de resistance, THE moment of 2011, occurred two songs later.
Ladies and gentlemen, and not so lady-like chicas* and not-quite-gentlemenly dudes, I give you THE greatest random bar moment of a generation, if not a lifetime.
(*: again, I am single. Just in case you’re an attractive female of loose moral values who is feeling a little frisky.)
* Because after some crappy auto-tune enhanced dance song … (usher voice) OMG. As I noted as SOON as the first note hit, “goddammit, I forgot the camera! Of ALL the times to forget the camera!” Because a moment like this deserves to be recorded and posted for the world to witness.
If only because, if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own two (blurred) eyes, I would not believe a moment like this was possible.
Shadow Lake Surf Club, take a bow champ. You have TOTALLY redeemed yourself from the “T-Shirt Fiasco of 2011” dude*! Because there are moments in life that are fun. There are moments in life that are precious. There are moments in life you treasure.
And then there are moments in life that you will take with you, in the words of Herb Brooks, “to your f*cking grave!”
(*: also redeeming Shadow Lake? Oh hell to the yes, they have trough urinals! I love the trough urinals, because (a) you can’t miss, (b) you can’t miss, and (c) you can’t miss. Your aim could be off by five feet, and you’re still peeing in the “toilet”. They’re awesome. Even better? These things are wooden! A wooden pisser! I’m telling you, this place TOTALLY did a 180 from its first appearance this summer. A total 180. I cannot wait to go back. Preferably during the six week stretch of the 27th annual homemade bikini contest come next June and early July.)
Now, I admit that I love me some old-school country music. And when it comes to “old school country music”, it does not get any better than THE best country song ever written.
As soon as the opening note played, I instantly knew what the song was. It had already played on the river to massive compliments by Bryan. Hell, the artist of this song? THE greatest country song of all time? At least two people there last night were there, because their folks met at one of his concerts. And yes, that is a true story – this man is so epically awesome, this song is so epically awesome, that at least two lives exist solely and completely because of his awesomeness*!
(*: uuh, booze and/or other assorted party favors may have been involved too. Just like last night!)
The song? Oh, sweet Jesus yes.
“The only time I know
I’ll hear David Allan Coe
Is when Jesus has
His final judgment day!!!!
So I’ll hang around as long as you will let me!
And I never minded standing in the rain!
You don’t have to call me darlin’, darlin’.
You never even called me by my name!”
When I heard the opening and starting shouting out loud to every word, I got a “you have GOT to be kidding me” look from at least one fellow floater. (OK, it was Katie.) By the time the first chorus hit, the ENTIRE bar was singing along to every word. I led a revolution, and damned if it didn’t feel good! If you have a better random bar moment than nearly 100 people shouting out in unison “You don’t have to call me Waylon Jennings! / And you don’t have to call me Charlie Pride! / And you don’t have to call me Merle Haggard anymore!”, then congratulations. Your life is even more blessed than mine is. But God bless it, THAT ROCKED!
* We made it until 1ish. I think the place was closing soon, because it was starting to clear out pretty quick. That, or Noel’s finest had a DUI checkpoint coming. Either way, we said our goodbyes to our new floatin’ buddy Bryan*, and it was “look out, Stevo’s behind the wheel!” off for the Beach known as Shady.
(*: the other amazing thing of this guy? That Katie can know a dude named Bryan and not immediately call him a … well, it rhymes with “masshole”. Actually, just drop the m from “masshole”, and toss a f bomb in front of it, and that’ll work. Miracles happen.)
* We somehow make it back. I’ll be honest – I was in no shape to drive. But I was in far better shape than anybody else, since I’d been dry for almost four hours at this point. If we were staying at River Ranch, we’d just walk back from the bar, no problems. If we were staying at Kozy Kamp, I know the way back, no problem. Plus the road is so windy that you have to go slow. But the Beach known as Shady? Not a damned clue what I’m doing. Somehow, I found the entrance, we make it in, and after realizing everyone was asleep, we joined them in the sweet sleep that only a highly intoxicated person can know.
* Sunday drive back? Absolutely it rained. God forbid one road trip ever go down without moisture from the sky dropping down. We left about 8am, made a couple stops, and by 11ish, I was home, ready to type up this recap and watch Andy Roddick at the Open (and not necessarily in that order. I know I get made fun of for a lot of things, but this should not be one of them. I watch exactly two weeks of tennis a year – I am addicted to the US Open. If you have a problem with that, I feel sorry for you – the US Open is THE most underrated sporting event on the calendar.)
So I guess this means summer is just about done. Next week right now, I’ll hopefully have the feet propped up in my beloved Rolling Rock chair, fresh off watching the Chiefs beat the Bills. Dear God, the NFL starts in four days! How did we ever get here!
When I look back at Summer of 2011, honestly? This has been the funnest summer of my life. Three epically awesome float trips, two epically awesome roadies to Nebraska, and seeing two of the best friends a guy could ever be lucky enough to have start their life together*. Awesome stuff.
(Sadly, only one floater was with the happy couple, and it wasn’t on the Elk. Next summer, it’s on like Donkey Kong hitting a bong! Or is that us hitting a bong on the couch? Either way, we’re getting DJ out on the dance floor at Shadow Lake, and I am definitely dunking his ass in the river. MULTIPLE TIMES. It’s coming champ. It’s effing coming.)
So if this is the end, what a run. I could not have had a better time than the last 12 some odd weeks have been. And now, the Season of our Lifetimes is about to begin come high noon on Sunday. I just ask one thing of you if you come out and join in breaking the NFL season in.
Please … you don’t have to call me darlin’, darlin’ … but at least call me by my name. Deal? Deal. :)
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