11) Saturday, January 25th –
“Bowl on Ice!”
Six days hit the road.
America seemed to be getting back to an even keel despite the brutal
weather – or, perhaps, the climate had compelled people to remain indoors or
simply shuttle to their jobs and back home again, not necessarily mindless of,
but indifferent to, the great events of state.
Money was made on Wall Street and destroyed at Freecock. Senators and Congressmen wrangled over protocols of
impeachment and the fate of the recess appointees. Beer was poured and consumed.
Blizzards had struck the upper Midwest Thursday and, again,
Saturday while a nor’easter swirled up from the Carolinas. Drifting, blowing snow had blanketed Purley and Dempstertown (as, in
fact, the Metroplex and entire Eastern Seaboard) leaving a few chilled and
dispirited regulars – Westy and Eric, among them – to
nurse their brews and crunch the cold, twenty-five cent chicken wings Leo had
prepared in anticipation of a big Sunday crowd with the Right Reverend
Ellsworth Godwin… still in his collar, having proceeded from the pulpit at Mt.
Zion Baptist directly to Feargal’s in the hope that
Washington and Green Bay would be allowed to play in tomorrow’s Wisconsin snow
and enduring the AFC’s salt-and-pepper talking heads, Rafe
Munson and Ervil Samms.
Like so many commentator pairings in professional sports, the
former was Hollywood and the latter was NFL; Samms a
defensive back for several units having moved on to coaching for two seasons…
one fair, the other disastrous… before trekking upstairs to the booth.
First and ten for
the silver and black on the New England forty,” observed the bleached-blond,
cap-toothed Munson. “Kaepernick under
center drops back… no, it’s a fake, he’s off and into the Patriots’ secondary,
stopped on the thirty-one…”
“That’ll bring up
second and short, nice spot to be in for the Raiders…” Samms
deduced.
“A year ago, they
were out of the playoffs by November, but after an oh and three start, they
resorted to their wicked old ways by signing Kaepernick and earning umpteen
hundred angry tweets from the President, then signing free-agents Antonio
Brown, Ray Rice and Ricky Williams after …”
“Not to mention
Popeye Brewster…” Ervil reminded him, the big guy’s
partisanship towards defensive players legendary…
“…these Raiders are headed from the Big House, straight to the
Big Game in Atlanta in two weeks,” Munson concluded with a self-satisfied
smile, “barring a Patriot miracle…”
“Here’s Fuller
straight ahead… first down Vegas!”
And that inspired
Westy to put down his beer to confront the Reverend…
“So, now, how do you explain to the kids how signing all these
guys out of prison and rehab and whatnot makes them role model? Kaepernick disrespects
“I’m not saying all
the brothers are role models, all I’m saying is that they ought to be allowed
to do their job, same as you or I,” Godwin replied.
Eric Hopper intervened on the Reverend’s side. “Gotta agree. They messed up, and paid the price, but how
long you gonna keep punishin’ the brothers, keep ‘em
from makin’ a living…”
Kaepernick
completed a pass to Rice for another first down at the sixteen…
“Hey, I like the flag, been in the service you
know,” Eric kept the pressure on, “but how long you gotta
keep the man down?”
“They always
pulling… well, the hard case,” Reverend Godwin pointed out, “…on the
brothers. Take away Barry Bonds’
records, but do they go after Clemens?”
“Guess that’s
true…” Westy said, “though they did come down on
Brady, sort of. And Pete Rose.” He flexed one massive hand… huge and strong
from feeding dollars into a slot eight hours a day, five days a week, fifty
weeks a year (holidays excepted) in the hope of a three-week vacation next
summer.
“That was ‘cause
of his hair,” Eric scowled. “Him and
Colin. Mostly, they let a brother get a
little taste of the high life, true, but if he starts to stand out of the
crowd, they find a way to cut him down an’ the same fools been proppin’ him since school be the first throwin’
bricks…”
“‘Cept out in Oakland,” Soames grunted back, “…guess that
makes ‘em jealous now…”
“Thirty-one to
six says so,” Eric pointed a half-gnawed wing at Westy
as barmaid Syria loomed up before the trio, waiting for their orders. “The Lord helps those as help themselves…”
“Ain’t that the
truth…”
“An’ the Good
Shepherd ain’t no vegetarian…” added the good
Reverend, looking up at the Mongolian plasma, face screwed up with
disgust. “A forty-four,” he shook his
head. “Ol’ lady Weems, got money, she told
me she got that same Tungway, but thirty-eight. Why do all those foreign television sets have
to have names like guns?”
Nobody could, or
would, refute the man of God on this, so all three nodded to let Syria wet
their whistles, once more… not necessarily because the game or conversation was
inspiring, but because it was damn cold outside… and, when General Westmoreland
Soames glanced up at Leo’s new set, Kaepernick took the snap at the New England
nine, dropped back and then bolted through the Patriot’s line to daylight…
“That’s
designer,” Munson exclaimed with no little admiration, “a keeper, all the way,
and Colin’s in…”
“Touchdown,
Raiders and it’s thirty-seven to six…”
“So, presuming
that Vegas will convert the extra point, we’re going to be cutting away to
Washington for a moment, where interim Commissioner Glenn Radulovich
is said to have an important announcement regarding this afternoon’s cancelled Green Bay-Washington tussle,” Rafe Munson informed the world, and Feargal’s.
“Cancelled?” the barflies looked
up, as one.
The dreary beatdown was replace, briefly, by a beefy man in a suit who tapped his
microphone a few times, nodded and paused for a moment, as if expecting
applause.
“Blinked,” Eric shook his head.
“Bad omen…
“Looks like he
used to play,” Reverend Godwin pointed a wing at the husky Radulovich,
who now hunched over the podium like Snoopy, pretending to be a vulture. Behind him was a wall of blattering
subliminals… POWER!
RESPECT! DIGNITY! PRIDE!… Radulovich seemed nervous, but determined. From another camera angle on another network,
beamed to another television… one of many on sale in Giga-Plex where both staff
and customers had suspended their haggling to watch… it was plain to see that
he faced a roomful of reporters hungering for justification of their presence.
“Thank you,” the
Commissioner tried to work his crowd. “I
have great news from Green Bay… they’re working hard, up there, and expect to
have power back by Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest. Electricians from twenty-eight states have
been airlifted into the afflicted area to make things right, and so I am
rescheduling tomorrow’s Conference playoff game to Sunday, next, at three PM,
Eastern, which would be… uh… two o’clock in Green Bay… question, yes?”
“Sir… Tim leClaire, Milwaukee Journal…” a Neanderthal fellow in a
light suit stood up.
“Fine people, up
there. Working hard…” said the
Commissioner, “and I know a little about bad weather,” he added, “from my time
up in Ann Arbor…”
“We all know of
your career,” leClaire browned his nose on both sides
before settling down to the meat in the matter.
“Thank you! And thank you, too… I
understand that there was consideration given to move the game to Washington,
tomorrow night, or to a neutral site in, well… a warmer place…” the man from
Milwaukee chuckled. Half the room… those
situated north of the thirty-fifth parallel… joined him.
“Yes, uh… many
options were discussed, but, once all is said and done,” the Commish intoned, “Green Bay did earn home field advantage
by virtue of their record… notwithstanding a fine victory by the Redskins in
Dallas, an achievement that’s important to me… but I think Commissioner Prater
would have done the same, despite his affection for his home team…”
“But sir…”
“The decision
stands.”
Obscenities arose from Feargal’s like a cloud of summer mosquitoes.
¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾
VISIT THESE OTHER GENERISIS SERIAL ABOMINATIONS…
THE
GOLDEN DAWN BLACK
HELICOPTERS
THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ!