This past week has included some of the more interesting moments of the year.
Wednesday night was kind of a bust. Everyone knew it was going to be crowded at the bars but we didn't get in early. Everyone knew not to try to go to more than one place but we tried anyway. Somehow Burnie Pie and I made it into Soho East (my first time, a recurring theme). It was good, that was the spot where we wanted to be. Found Nikki and her friends and we were all having a good time.
Then I made arguably the worst bar / drinking decision of the year. Burnie Pie and I decided to follow a friend of ours downstairs. He knew it wasn't a good idea, so did I. So why did we go? Hell if I know. I don't blame anyone but myself. Kinda like when you were younger and you did something stupid and your Mom goes, "I'm not mad, you just disappointed me." Well, that's how I felt about myself.
Thursday morning came without a hangover, a surprise for sure. But that wasn't even close to the biggest surprise of the morning.
As I mentioned before, this Turkey day game had a more competitive dynamic than years before. Us vs. Them. Their friends vs. My friends. This was what I expected. I was sure I wouldn't know everyone on their team but I wasn't really sweating it.
I get out of the car, breathe in the frosty air, bullshit around with teammates, bitch about last night. I'm sizing up the competition. Same routine. Then I hear a door slam. It's a white van, one of those long ones with no windows that I don't recognize and someone gets out of the passenger door. Looking back on it this in itself was somewhat unique. Who gets dropped off at a game when you know almost everyone there? You don't know someone else on the team, a friend couldn't pick you up?
I see the guy get out of the van. I am squinting, shaking my head. Naw, that's not...how the hell?...Really, honestly, that can't be??
I'll let Bob Matthews introduce him, from the Thanksgiving edition of the D&C.
Penn State cornerback Alan Zemaitis (Penn State via Spencerport) is being touted by scouting information services as a first- or second-round pick in the 2006 NFL college draft. One service, nflscouting@aol.com, says Zemaitis is the best defensive back in college football today. The last Section V product selected in the first round of the NFL draft was Don Bosseler of Batavia. He was the No. 9 overall pick by the Washington Redskins out of Miami in 1957. It was the year Cleveland picked Syracuse's Jim Brown No. 6 overall (behind Paul Hornung, Jon Arnett, John Brodie, Ron Kramer and Len Dawson).
So arguably the best defensive back in college football, Alan Zemaitis, was on the other team in our fucking Turkey Bowl game.
He started introducing himself to our team as "AZ." No, fucking wait a minute. What in god's green earth is a guy who just had three interceptions in a BIG TEN FOOTBALL GAME doing in the parking lot of Holy Ghost church, getting ready to play a pickup game of tackle football on a field where a cemetery is on one sideline and some tree branches are in play on the other? Other than that, exactly like the Horseshoe.
Does Gisele show up for the Appleton, WI Beauty Pageant, just for the hell of it? You know, just take a couple strolls down the runway, maybe put on a bathing suit, the usual. No, she fucking doesn't.
It really was absurd. That's all it was, plain absurd.
The game was actually close for a little while. We scored first. Then um, the future NFL draft pick made some plays, picked off three or so passes. Looked pretty comfortable doing it.
(And yes, most everyone thought, "If I was going to get drafted I wouldn't risk injury.")
Their other good player, a SUNY Brockport varsity player got kinda mad after a play in which I was involved in the tackle. He thought I elbowed him in the face on purpose. In the game recap in the paper the next day I was quoted as saying "I was just playing the game, trying to make a tackle, praise Jesus." But you can't believe everything you read in the paper (that doesn't exist).
We lost, but I don't think anyone was really down on themselves afterwards.
Even before the game was over I was thinking, well, this'll be a story to tell. And since I just wrote it down, it's true.
I remember watching some football later on and the DMB special from Red Rocks on PBS. It was pretty good, Robert Randolph stole the show again. I started thinking about the people I know in Denver and things that I did while I was there(including a Roots show at Red Rocks).
Friday was the day after Thanksgiving at Barnes and Noble. It was busy and not really that fun. This girl I worked with looked real hot though, I do remember that.
Then Hell absolutely broke loose at Oxfords later that night. I'm not going to get into too many details but it was as close to a Cancun Spring break you will ever see in November in Rochester. I danced to "Don't Stop till you get enough" by MJ. For the whole bloody song and that wasn't even close to the most nuts thing that went down. A boat race it was. Repercussions and memories from that night will be felt for weeks, hell, months to come.
Saturday was mainly used to recap what happened on Friday, which was completely reasonable. Didn't want to stay out too late but still managed to come home from Palmero's house at 2:30.
Sunday morning was rise and shine for my first Buffalo Bills game. 7:45 departure time from the Friendly's parking lot. I drove down with two people that were friends of a friend. We made it to about North Chili on 490W when the driver (!) offers up the question, "Would anyone like to start the morning with a beer?"
So at about 8:15, first Labatt's Blue can is cracked. New earliest time for the liver to be pissed at.
We kinda got lost but still got there at a earlier time than we expected. A passenger from the other car sees our empties bag after we get there and is quite surprised. I try telling him "It's not that bad." I'm not sure if I even believe that.
The deep-fried Turkey was better than I thought it was going to be. At one point I had an entire Turkey leg in one hand and a can of beer in the other. Then I started thinking, actually, no, I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking about anything. I was a caveman in a frozen parking lot.
Unfortunately my digestion of the turkey was short lived. Seems that taking one too many generous slugs of Southern Comfort (Thanks Keith!) was not the good idea I had thought at the time. It was one of those chemical reaction, Pepsi bubbling over the side of the glass, life-will-go-on shortly pukes as opposed to one of those stomach beatdown, prolonged, director's cut, this is what you fuckin get a-hole, incapacitating, don't make any goddamn plans pukes.
(if you don't know the difference, it's okay, i do, you know i do, i know you know that I know, it happens)
So on to the game!!
Find our seats with about half the first quarter to go. Find really is the best word. How the seven of us followed any sort of direction at that point was truly inspirational. I make the comment loudly "it's the second quarter already??" The guy behind me curtly says, "Yeah it is." I get the impression that our act as drunk guys is not sitting so well with him. I don't really blame him.
I only have one beer during the game. It goes by very fast (the game and beer), the complete opposite of what I've heard attending a live game would be like. The action on the field wasn't very exciting but still fun to watch.
I made it out of the game with my teeth and back to the car. But as you would assume, the journey is not over with yet. Making it back to Rochester isn't a given at this point.
Apparently we got lost and Eric, the driver, started going west. I don't remember this at all. I fell asleep right after leaving the parking lot. I woke up to a traffic jam on the Thruway. Eventually we got back to Rochester in one piece.
I gotta find a better way to end these things.
Wednesday night was kind of a bust. Everyone knew it was going to be crowded at the bars but we didn't get in early. Everyone knew not to try to go to more than one place but we tried anyway. Somehow Burnie Pie and I made it into Soho East (my first time, a recurring theme). It was good, that was the spot where we wanted to be. Found Nikki and her friends and we were all having a good time.
Then I made arguably the worst bar / drinking decision of the year. Burnie Pie and I decided to follow a friend of ours downstairs. He knew it wasn't a good idea, so did I. So why did we go? Hell if I know. I don't blame anyone but myself. Kinda like when you were younger and you did something stupid and your Mom goes, "I'm not mad, you just disappointed me." Well, that's how I felt about myself.
Thursday morning came without a hangover, a surprise for sure. But that wasn't even close to the biggest surprise of the morning.
As I mentioned before, this Turkey day game had a more competitive dynamic than years before. Us vs. Them. Their friends vs. My friends. This was what I expected. I was sure I wouldn't know everyone on their team but I wasn't really sweating it.
I get out of the car, breathe in the frosty air, bullshit around with teammates, bitch about last night. I'm sizing up the competition. Same routine. Then I hear a door slam. It's a white van, one of those long ones with no windows that I don't recognize and someone gets out of the passenger door. Looking back on it this in itself was somewhat unique. Who gets dropped off at a game when you know almost everyone there? You don't know someone else on the team, a friend couldn't pick you up?
I see the guy get out of the van. I am squinting, shaking my head. Naw, that's not...how the hell?...Really, honestly, that can't be??
I'll let Bob Matthews introduce him, from the Thanksgiving edition of the D&C.
Penn State cornerback Alan Zemaitis (Penn State via Spencerport) is being touted by scouting information services as a first- or second-round pick in the 2006 NFL college draft. One service, nflscouting@aol.com, says Zemaitis is the best defensive back in college football today. The last Section V product selected in the first round of the NFL draft was Don Bosseler of Batavia. He was the No. 9 overall pick by the Washington Redskins out of Miami in 1957. It was the year Cleveland picked Syracuse's Jim Brown No. 6 overall (behind Paul Hornung, Jon Arnett, John Brodie, Ron Kramer and Len Dawson).
So arguably the best defensive back in college football, Alan Zemaitis, was on the other team in our fucking Turkey Bowl game.
He started introducing himself to our team as "AZ." No, fucking wait a minute. What in god's green earth is a guy who just had three interceptions in a BIG TEN FOOTBALL GAME doing in the parking lot of Holy Ghost church, getting ready to play a pickup game of tackle football on a field where a cemetery is on one sideline and some tree branches are in play on the other? Other than that, exactly like the Horseshoe.
Does Gisele show up for the Appleton, WI Beauty Pageant, just for the hell of it? You know, just take a couple strolls down the runway, maybe put on a bathing suit, the usual. No, she fucking doesn't.
It really was absurd. That's all it was, plain absurd.
The game was actually close for a little while. We scored first. Then um, the future NFL draft pick made some plays, picked off three or so passes. Looked pretty comfortable doing it.
(And yes, most everyone thought, "If I was going to get drafted I wouldn't risk injury.")
Their other good player, a SUNY Brockport varsity player got kinda mad after a play in which I was involved in the tackle. He thought I elbowed him in the face on purpose. In the game recap in the paper the next day I was quoted as saying "I was just playing the game, trying to make a tackle, praise Jesus." But you can't believe everything you read in the paper (that doesn't exist).
We lost, but I don't think anyone was really down on themselves afterwards.
Even before the game was over I was thinking, well, this'll be a story to tell. And since I just wrote it down, it's true.
I remember watching some football later on and the DMB special from Red Rocks on PBS. It was pretty good, Robert Randolph stole the show again. I started thinking about the people I know in Denver and things that I did while I was there(including a Roots show at Red Rocks).
Friday was the day after Thanksgiving at Barnes and Noble. It was busy and not really that fun. This girl I worked with looked real hot though, I do remember that.
Then Hell absolutely broke loose at Oxfords later that night. I'm not going to get into too many details but it was as close to a Cancun Spring break you will ever see in November in Rochester. I danced to "Don't Stop till you get enough" by MJ. For the whole bloody song and that wasn't even close to the most nuts thing that went down. A boat race it was. Repercussions and memories from that night will be felt for weeks, hell, months to come.
Saturday was mainly used to recap what happened on Friday, which was completely reasonable. Didn't want to stay out too late but still managed to come home from Palmero's house at 2:30.
Sunday morning was rise and shine for my first Buffalo Bills game. 7:45 departure time from the Friendly's parking lot. I drove down with two people that were friends of a friend. We made it to about North Chili on 490W when the driver (!) offers up the question, "Would anyone like to start the morning with a beer?"
So at about 8:15, first Labatt's Blue can is cracked. New earliest time for the liver to be pissed at.
We kinda got lost but still got there at a earlier time than we expected. A passenger from the other car sees our empties bag after we get there and is quite surprised. I try telling him "It's not that bad." I'm not sure if I even believe that.
The deep-fried Turkey was better than I thought it was going to be. At one point I had an entire Turkey leg in one hand and a can of beer in the other. Then I started thinking, actually, no, I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking about anything. I was a caveman in a frozen parking lot.
Unfortunately my digestion of the turkey was short lived. Seems that taking one too many generous slugs of Southern Comfort (Thanks Keith!) was not the good idea I had thought at the time. It was one of those chemical reaction, Pepsi bubbling over the side of the glass, life-will-go-on shortly pukes as opposed to one of those stomach beatdown, prolonged, director's cut, this is what you fuckin get a-hole, incapacitating, don't make any goddamn plans pukes.
(if you don't know the difference, it's okay, i do, you know i do, i know you know that I know, it happens)
So on to the game!!
Find our seats with about half the first quarter to go. Find really is the best word. How the seven of us followed any sort of direction at that point was truly inspirational. I make the comment loudly "it's the second quarter already??" The guy behind me curtly says, "Yeah it is." I get the impression that our act as drunk guys is not sitting so well with him. I don't really blame him.
I only have one beer during the game. It goes by very fast (the game and beer), the complete opposite of what I've heard attending a live game would be like. The action on the field wasn't very exciting but still fun to watch.
I made it out of the game with my teeth and back to the car. But as you would assume, the journey is not over with yet. Making it back to Rochester isn't a given at this point.
Apparently we got lost and Eric, the driver, started going west. I don't remember this at all. I fell asleep right after leaving the parking lot. I woke up to a traffic jam on the Thruway. Eventually we got back to Rochester in one piece.
I gotta find a better way to end these things.
posted by Zach Fields at
9:29 PM
0 Comments
