It was a long weekend. Mentally. It started with the hope that the Carter-Finley curse would somehow NOT rear it's ugly head. But, alas, it was not to be and FSU fell to unranked NC State. Well ok. There was a mushroom cloud over central Duval County over my house that night, but ok, whatever.
I headed to Everbank Stadium to watch the Bears vs. Jaguars. Let's be clear. I was not expecting a miracle blowout by the Jaguars. I just like it to be competitive. I'm not really into giving play by plays. That's a man's thing. However, the first series that Chicago had the ball, Jay Cutler threw an interception!!! I jumped up and exclaimed with my foam paws I might add: I got your Monsters of the Midway RIGHT HERE!!!!! I said it like 4 times. Because I can. Because Everbank is MY HOUSE!! In the second half, the tide turned and the Jaguars ended up losing 41-3 to that sissy-la-la Jay Cutler. He's such a stinking baby. Insult to injury was the very poor behavior of the Bears fans. One woman in particular was especially annoying. She had an orange and blue tramp stamp and every time she jumped up her pants would come down and the back of her shirt would come up and she would be tugging and pulling. Unfortunately, because she was sitting in front of me, I had to endure repeated sighting of said tramp stamp. I live in Gainesville North AKA Jacksonville so I have seen them ad nauseum. This bears fan also repeatedly mocked the Jaguar fans and screamed and yelled constantly. Did I mention she brought her 7 yr old kid with her? So, demoralized, mocked and verbally abused "in my own house", I began the long walk back to my car. There were clouds off to the west. And in the sky there were spider webs of lightning. It was as if the weather was trying to match my mood.
I get to my car finally with all of the D-R-U-N-K people around me. EWWW. I start the engine and get in line to get down the road. The first song I heard was "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" by Drowning Pool. That felt good. Then, as if the radio station knew just the song to play, the next song was "Long Way Home" by Supertramp. And actually I was taking the long way home but not by choice. That immediately brought me back down to pensive thought. As pensive as you can be with crazy drivers down MLK Expressway.
(Before I tell you the next part of my story, let's get something straight. I'm not a cryer. I don't like Nicholas Sparks movies: they all end the same way, and the man always dies.)
I decide to wheel in to Sonny's for some chopped barbecue with mustard sauce to go. I walk up to the window. I'm still dressed in all my stuff from the game. A nice girl with a Jaguar shirt came to the takeout window to take my order. The first thing she asks me was if I was ok. I immediately got choked up and repeated in my mind "there's no crying in football" over and over.
Peeps. When I almost burst into tears after the takeout girl at Sonny's asks me if I'm ok, that's a problem.
That's a problem because I advocated the torching of Shack Harris and Byron Leftwich. Ok so we get rid of them and we'll be better. I could go on and on. Oh if this happens or we get this player or...We will finally win. I can't take it anymore. I just wanna win. What does it take to win? I feel as if some lingering funk is left from the Weaver ownership. Like a skunk that has somehow eluded capture and occasionally sprays everything down. Let's say that same skunk (Jack Del Rio) sprays the inside of your house And you only clean the coffee table and the TV. Meanwhile you don't wash the dog or the floor. There will still be stink everywhere until you CLEAN THE WHOLE HOUSE. Do something. Anything.
On the other hand: 1. If winning in the NFL was easy everybody would be doing it. 2. If you listen to the fans, you'll be sitting with him. I get those 2 principles. I don't have all the answers or solutions. What I do know is more than anything, I wanna win. And the players wanna win. So what's keeping them?
Speaking of houses, I certainly do not appreciate the way Bears fans acted in my house. You do not mock me. You do not act like hooligans. It's my house. I did not go to the Superdome and point and scream and act nasty. Tell them they were losers. I acted respectful and cheered when my team did something good. It's called Decorum. Chicago fans should try some. We are not a "storied" franchise. But we still deserve respect.
One more thing before I go. Gator fans that come to a Jaguar game dressed like Gators to cheer on the Bears: I ain't got nothing for you. Just goes to show that some fans pick their teams from the colors. That's the lamest thing I have ever heard.
MDK in the House
We MUST protect this house.
P.S. I don't make a habit of calling players out. So, I would like to say I finally saw this player "put his hands in the AYYRRR, like he was a true Playa". Even if it was only once. Don't stop until the whistle blows.
No comments:
Post a Comment