You Don’t Get Invited to the Ball When You are As Atrocious As You Are.
by Mike A.
I may have just invented a cool new game that would be fun to play. It’s playing chicken and chicken fighting at the same time. It requires four people, two per team. On both teams, one member climbs on and sits on the shoulders of their team mate. The game begins when both teams start oh, about twenty yards away from each other and at the sound of a whistle/AK-47 fire/etc. both teams break into a fast sprint and collide in a hail of closed fists, gnashing teeth and steel toes. The team with the least fractures, punctured lungs and concussions wins. Winning three out of five rounds secures the glory. I can see it catching on in the years ahead on a national level. A new league will emerge and professional alcoholics, degenerates and the unscrupulous alike will sign up for the prestige, fame and in some cases, meat hampers and assorted valuable cash prizes. I get the feeling in hearing about your average Dauphin, MB social, that team Manitoba would have an obvious advantage over the rest of the playing field. It would be devastating and exciting all at once. Who could possibly ever show up to an afternoon behind the Pemby to take in an afternoon of Smashed Face Chicken Wars with a bag over their heads? It’s ludicrous to even contemplate how anyone on the planet could feel shame in their desires to cheer for their favorite team. Local blackouts would never apply once TSN was brought onboard for extensive pre and post game coverage. It would be fantastic.
Much more so than the serious and sober-minded position that I find myself in late this morning only a couple of hours before kickoff at Canad Inns stadium. The street out front of the Ashburn compound, a mere two blocks from the stadium, is still relatively desolate with fans slowly gathering in huddled, gloomy masses at home, hungrily emptying their medicine cabinets and beer fridges one after the other. People everywhere are taking a very hard look in the mirror today and the face that looks back at them is worn out, tired and haggard. It’s been an exceptionally tough year on us and when the leaders in overall points this year come into town with a few hours to kill, the gravity of the task at hand is a somber thought to say the least. You might want to sit in the car and leave it running in the garage for a few extra minutes if you plan on driving to this afternoon’s contest.
Last week Winnipeg managed to cook up a way to find themselves pile driven into the turf several times in a row after helping themselves to a fourteen point lead with their sights rather suddenly on a third string Lion’s QB that entered the match to replace the injured Buck Pierce. And then they sat down and watched him go to work. On top of that, there was that goddamned Michael Bishop who seemed to have left his coke bottle glasses at home, once again reverting to the ways of old over throwing the ball with incredible consistency, unable to read plays, ungluing the entire offence and from what I gather, giving up altogether to allow the Lions to stomp the living Christ out of the sad sack Bombers. Just another day of failure for the Blue and Gold, one of the few consistencies in life going into the final stretch of the 2009 regular season.
Westwood is in. Oh good. The same guy who missed three out of four field goals against Calgary which cost us the 2001 Grey Cup. I am not alone in having made up my mind to never forgive him for that. Simpson is in. Meh. Amey is out for failing to have ever caught a ball after an exciting debut a few weeks back. Is Anthony Calvillo in on QB for Montreal or will he rest while second year pivot Adrian McPherson handles the controls? Al’s coach Trestman isn’t saying but it seems to matter little and you can bet your laughable season ticket stub that I am using last weeks’ horrible nightmare against the BC Lions as my witness to state that the Bombers have absolutely no problem losing to back up QB’s. The facts of the matter are that the Alouettes are 13-2 and have been playing professional football all year long while the Coach Kelly has been operating a revolving door that often slams violently into the skulls of all who come near his unmemorable rag tag group of flunkies and sad sacks.
There is no need for Calvillo to step on the field this afternoon, although if he did, he would feel the soft organs and tissues of the home team all torn up and shredded under his shoes. McPherson can stick to the game plan, a plan that has worked wonders all season long. He will be well protected and will have all the time in the world to make plays happen for the Als. He completed 10 out of 11 without any interceptions last week and the Als have been busy slapping around just about everyone in the league all year.
At this point, Smashed Face Chicken Wars is my only option for experiencing happiness and a sense of fulfillment in life. Everything about this afternoon is ugly and foreboding. Goddamn you Westwood. And goddamn you Kelly. You treat me so terribly all the time.
