Note: The following is for entertainment only, and should not be used for actual analysis of a football game.
So my girlfriend gave me her tickets to the Chiefs-Rams pre-season game tonight. My best friend Hippolito Pichardo tagged along. I am in my Bowe jersey; Hp is in his #18 Grbac jersey. Here is how this went down…
6:45: HP and I arrive at the Edward Jones Dome, get frisked by a guy who is way more likely to be carrying a gun that I am, and enter the stadium. HP explains to me, for the first time, how much he hates indoor football stadiums. We hire a Shirpa, find the escalator, and head to the summit.
6:49: BEER STOP!!! HP stops at a stand to get us some beers. He and the woman pouring our Bud Lights discuss how cold her hands get pulling beers from an ice bath. HP suggests wearing gloves. The woman explains that it is not allowed because she “always has to be ready”. I don’t know what this means. Where is my beer?
6:53: We make it to our seats: section 438, Row RR, seats 3 and 4. HP and I discuss the pitfalls of the wax paper cups versus the nice plastic ones. Oh, time for a moment of silence for Chan Gailey, oh, I mean former governor of Missouri Hearns.
6:56: Some guy sings the national anthem, except someone screwed up, and the microphone keeps turning off every eight seconds. I guess it’s pre-season for everyone. It’s like he’s singing it through the drive thru at BK. King size my ramparts, my man! HP sees a kid wearing a #11 Grbac jersey. He spends the next six minutes attempting to research on his phone which jersey is more rare; his or the kid’s. He never finds this answer.
7:00: Kickoff. Jamal Charles fumbles the kick off…luckily he was still in the end zone. Croyle-Time begins at the 20. Incomplete, draw, blah blah blah, three and out. I am out of beer and need more. HP agrees. Off we go.
7:10: BEER STOP!!! We find a beer stand where they sell 16oz cans of Bud, Bud Light, Bud Select, and Busch. HP orders a Bud AND a Busch. I guess he couldn’t decide. As the girl hands the Busch to him, HP exclaims, “Cue the Blues Traveler!!!!” We both sing “The Mountains Win Again”. I order a Select and a Busch. We sing again. Now the fun begins…
7:15: HP and I make our way up the stairs toward our seats. I made the unwise decision to wear flip flops. I stumble, hit the deck, and dump half of my beer on about four people. I pick myself up, say “sorry”, and head on my way. I don’t know what I was thinking. My ego was so bruised, I didn’t even have the decency to give a legitimate apology. We get back to the seats. My Bowe jersey now smells like beer, and HP is telling me over and over again that I didn’t spill beer on anyone; I THREW beer on people. Feeling guilty, I head back down the stairs to make a proper apology. Their response: “Well, you’re a Chiefs fan.” I refrain from berating the people I just dumped beer on.
7:22: Larry Johnson rips off a 60 yard run! We’re in business. That is until…1st and goal…holding…delay of game…Croyle under throws Bowe…Croyle over throws Bowe…draw play. Good thing we fired the offensive coordinator. Succop kicks a field goal. Well, we’re winning, right? Corey Mays makes a nice play. HP likes his dreads. We try to remember anyone on the Chiefs having dreads and can’t think of anyone. Maybe that’s why we stink all the time.
7:40: Two 11 year olds come and sit behind us. “Matt Cassell plays for your team, right?”, they say. “He’s hurt.”, I reply. HP fires back with, “Marc Bulger plays for your team, right?” They explain that he is hurt but…”We have Stephen Jackson.” “Yeah, well we have Larry Johnson”, fires back HP. “We have Stephen Jackson!”, respond the pre-pubescent enemies. I see this is going to end well. I suggest to HP that we are out of beer, and should rectify that situation. He agrees. We walk towards the beer stand, while HP complains that he had a “whole bunch of comebacks ready for those kids.” I am impressed and frightened.
7:50: Time to go outside for a smoke. Succop nails another field goal while we aren’t watching. HP and I enjoy watching the Rams score a touchdown while viewing the game on the monitors in satellite trucks outside. We also get to watch a drunk girl who had been at the Cardinals game (seven hours ago) try to sneak two tall boys into the stadium. It didn’t work. We laughed. She told us to “enjoy the f**king game!” I proceed to tell her to grow up. Man I am old.
8:00: There are a few minutes left in the first half. We want to get seats in the lower portion of the stadium, so we decide to wait until halftime. BEER STOP!!! HP gets two more Busch’s while I grab two Bud Lights and the smallest hotdog in history. My phone vibrates; it’s Bellwether. “INT” is all the text reads. Hp confirms with the monitors. The chiefs are deep in St. Louis territory. Here comes a TD. No, but Succop continues to look good in this game.
8:22: Halftime. HP and I locate some seats in one of the end zones. Four youth teams are playing half field scrimmages for our entertainment. On one team, 10 of the players are about 3 feet tall and weigh 65 pounds…except for the nose guard. He is 5 feet tall and weighs 140. He proceeds to blow up the center and sack the QB on the first play. HP explains to me that the kid reminds him of Ken Dorsey… I’ll wait while you process this. Yes, HP, the large African American nose tackle looks like a white QB from the U. This is going downhill quickly.
8:37: We have a Thigpen sighting! Rams start with the ball, but the defense holds. I ask HP who Studebaker is. He explains that he is Studebaker, and he is good. I leave for more beer and to take a leak. I was glad I did as Thigpen fires a pick-6 while I was in the men’s room. Sorry I missed that.
8:50: We are no longer really paying attention. HP and I begin a debate similar to Posnanski and Bill James about obscure things the Royals could do to be competitive. HP wants only left handed pitchers and hitters. I decide I want a lineup completely filled with fast guys who just slap bunt, and steal on every pitch. HP thinks my idea is ridiculous.
8:55: HP is out of beer, and heads off. He returns with a footlong Brat, and another Busch. Thigpen throws another interception. I truly have no idea what he was trying to accomplish with that one. I am out of beer, and I make the dash once again.
9:05: Hp asks me which of the current chiefs would be most likely to be caught in a massive drug ring ala Bam Morris. I was thinking Alphonso Boone, but he got cut. HP goes with Kolby Smith. I change mine to Terrence Copper.
9:15: We’re both out of beer. HP wants to know when beer sales end. I explain that they already did. HP says we should leave. I agree.
9:20: Back to our Royals discussion. I tell HP that I would intentionally walk the bases loaded to start every inning. HP tells me I am stupid, and that I should be thinking of things that might actually work. In my head this makes sense. It gives you a force at any base, and loads of double play opportunities. HP yells at me and tells me I don’t know what I am talking about. Yes I do.
9:25: HP sees three people who work in the suite section serving food with giant chef’s hats on. HP yells at them, “Oooh, I’m a chef. I wear a hat!” It’s time to go home. Did we win?
