Tuesday, 09 January 2007 : I'm Choking It!
While one might take the title of this article as the name of a fringe-kink porno or some failed McDonald's slogan, it was in fact the words heard emanating from the helmet of Tony Romo as he sat on the ground at Qwest field, having just failed a simple hold for a 19-yard field goal and lost his team a year's worth of hard work.
Also in fact, the over-hyped quarterback, the new Joe Nameth, was not all that and a bag of kind budz in his first playoff game ever. Neither was T.O., which to me stands for Team Oddball, Totally Over-rated, Time Over, Tossed Out, Taken Off, Told Off, etc. He rushed for 2 receptions, 24 yards total. OH BOY! TEE OHH TEE OHH TEE OHH TEE OHH! Like Steve Smith of last year, the guy just really didn't show up in Seattle. What instead haunted the field was some emanation of Terrell Owens wondering why the overdose didn't work and maybe he could get some more pills in Seattle and just skip the flight home.
My bar, nestled in the heart of GeorgeTown, happens to be on the street taken by failed football teams as they exit our fair city by way of Boeing Field, a few blocks away. After the game was over, and the celebration was in full effect within our walls, lights outside began to flash and vibrate. Lo!!!! Outside I find our street blocked off by THE MAN on motorbike and down the street they are coming. At a clip, the buses. The chartered buses carrying the newly defeated Dallas Cowboys football club. Four or five, I am trying to remember now. There they were, a few feet away from me. I simply shook my fist in revelry. To taunt them with more would be uncompassionate and perhaps a bit cruel. They had their trip to Chicago in the bag. It was crunch time, a rookie quarterback about to celebrate what has to be the biggest win of his life (to date). All he has to do is hold a damned ball on the ground. Instead he is crouched in the back of the bus, in that dim, bubo seat usually reserved for the guy that coils all the wires together after the game, driving past my bar, wishing he was inside with the rest of the guys (and soome chicks), having a brew and watching the replays and brushing it off as a rookie mistake and there is always next year.
If Tony Romo is lucky, there will be a next year for him. He might even be so lucky to be teamed up with The Train Wreck Formerly Known as Terrell Owens. Perhaps even the Ancient Coach Who Just Won't Leave Known as Bill Parcells will lead them to another lacklustre year.
Speaking of lacklustre, the Seahawks were barely in the stadium last night, themselves. They should be ashamed of themselves, letting a team like Dallas even get within 28 point of them. The game should have been decided in the second quarter. Alexander couldn't find a groove if Stella herself came up and gave it to him. Matt was like... WOO HOO, look at me, I am in the playoffs again! I am like that Brett Farverrerer dood that Coach used to coddle in the nineties! Shame on you, 'Hawks. Oh yes, I was cheering and running around my bar like a man on fire when Romo finally made contact with mortality, and oh yes, I yelled and stomped when the touchdown was rightfully turned into a safety (another flub on Dallas' part, sorry) Oh yes, I momentarily gave pause to consider intelligent design when Jerramy Stevens GOD BLESS HIM did not only NOT drop the fucking ball, he caught three receps, including a touchdown (more on this later... perhaps.) Oh yes, I was stoked at even a #37 two-yard rush. I knew, like all Seattle-ites, that we were going to win (don't ask how, it is just one of those Pac NW things that we do), but I have no fingernails, I drank WAY too much trying to allay my anxiety, oh yes, I almost GAVE UP when it came down to a 19-yard field goal then I got confused and forgot to card the four young rapscallions that showed up with two minutes left when they heard there was ONE bar in the area with a TV and had to watch the end and drink many brews with us (they were legal in the end, worry not), oh yes, I high-fived the couple that showed up and drank at our first unofficial night of serving (legally, I might add). In my very own fashion, I rewound, via TiVo, to the last 1:00 just to watch the end of the game a few times. But hot damn and beat your baby daddy you guys GOTTA fucking SHOW UP in Chicago. Oh yes, I am sure we will not emerge victorious from that contest, but at least show up and make us all proud way up here in Alaska (a reference to the fact that last year during the playoffs, people at the Carolina game thought that Seattle was a city in Alaska, I shit you not. Hey , maybe YOU think that... party on!). We are the first team in TEN BLESS-ED YEARS to lose a Super Bowl and make an appearance in the playoffs the following year. Put that Super Bowl curse in your pipe and smoke it. Of course, this team is so different than last year. 2006 for the 'Hawks was like that 2001 season for the Mariners, where the team was just that, a team, some kind of living entity where everything gelled with the consistency of molten lava. This year for the 'Hawks has been a real drag. Most of our top performers including our Pro-Bow QB and league MVP were out with injuries that cost us some games, of that NO argument can be made. The problem there is that the team never gets a chance to meld into a cohesive unit. Everyone was absent from the field at one point or another, never getting into a rhythm with each other, creating the monster that was 13-3 only 9 months ago. So, now... we wait until Sunday, 10:00a, to see how badly we get stomped. Or... do we? Just because Chicago is good, doesn't mean we will lose. Rex Grossman sucks the balls. If #37 can get back into the groove, who knows! My man Branch will step it up, hopefully Stevens gets a few passes, etc. Pray pray pray!
That is all. - Jim