Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Football and an Anniversary

Sometimes I forget to check, but when I remember to read Peter King's weekly column, I thoroughly enjoy his commentary and insight. His Monday Morning Quarterback piece is a great read -- we here at Slack highly recommend it -- as there's no better take on the weekend's games anywhere else on the Internets.

But I fear Mr. King has fallen prey to the writing disease that currently plagues most professional sports journalists: embellishment. In this week's column, King makes the pretty outlandish claim that the 2004 Pittsburgh Steelers are one of the best teams of the last 20 years. Yes, one of the top teams of the last two decades. Yes, just as good as the mid-80s Bears, the late-80s Niners, the early-90s Bills and Cowboys. This guy's taking a sample size of about six games (since Old Mother Hubbard bent over and Rover Roethlisberger took over) and saying this team is an unbeatable force that will go down in history as one of the greatest teams ever. To that prediction I say, "Ohhhhh I dunno...Lemme think it over, will ya? I got a guy on the other line about some white walls."

The Steelers are arguably the league's best team right now, and sure they're winning games handily at this point, even beating two previously undefeated opponents. But seriously, one of the best teams of the last two decades? Didn't the Patriots just win 21 straight games or something like that? I can't imagine saying this year's Steelers are better than that team. And in addition to the squads King mentions himself, I can't imagine saying the Steelers are any better than the '99 Rams, the '91 Redskins, the '94 49ers, maybe even that '98 Cunningham-led Vikings team or Moon's Oilers from the early-90s. Slow down Peter, we love ya baby, but let's wait and collect a little bit of solid evidence before making such a ridiculous suggestion. Rome wasn't burnt in a day. I haven't seen such a bold statement since Lance told Vinnie Vega he'd take the Pepsi Challenge with that Amsterdam shit any ol' day of the fuckin' week. I like Big Ben and I'm on the Steelers bandwagon, but I'm riding the brake.

Staying with the football theme, here's a question I've been screaming since Sunday: Santana Moss, will you please run to the fucking endzone? Not to sound like a Phil Mushnick or Mike Francesa douche or anything, but what's happening to this game? You're trailing by 12 with about four minutes on the clock and you've got nobody in front of you for the remaining 40 yards 'til paydirt, why are you hotdogging your way to the endzone? Run, run fast, use that blinding speed and get on your horse. I sincerely hope Herm took some action on that one, maybe talked real fast and got up in Santana's face, maybe asked him who told him to put the balm on...

Well, Dave Wannstedt is officially out as head coach of the Dolphins. I saw Wannstedt play craps in the Bahamas one spring break, and he jumped up and down like a middle school girl every time someone hit a point. That's grounds for firing right there. I don't know what took them so long. That was years ago. I hope general managers get taught a lesson here -- some people are coordinators, and damn good ones, and some people are head coaches. Guys like Wannestedt, Norv Turner, Dave Campo, Bruce Coslet, Mike Fucking Martz, these are coordinators, not head coaches, not strong leaders of men...there's a difference, and it's amazing how many GMs have yet to figure it all out. Stupid is as stupid does, Mrs. Blue.

Moving on, it's a special anniversary for Ace and Donnie...well, not an anniversary for us, but the day of a pretty ridiculous night in our history. Six year ago today, the popular rock band Phish capped off a fantastically swell three-night run at the UIC Pavillion in Chicago, closing with an a capella Freebird that's still etched in my mind like it were yesterday. In honor of this occasion, allow myself to introduce myself, or more accurately, indulge me in re-visiting my thoughts on the subject of this night (this, from a 7/11/04 Slack post):

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It's been about six years since ol' Ace has dabbled in the psilocybin trade, but good times were certainly had before then. That last time was the 11/9/98 Phish show at the UIC Pavillion, a great and severely underrated show by all accounts. Except, of course, for the 45 minutes when I just completely freaked out, peaking hard in a fully enclosed arena with no air and no music to distract me, as the band was taking a break in between sets. I began to wander, first mentally while sitting two rows up off the floor. Then I had to get up and find some air, some water, something to kick me back into normal life, to remind me I'm okay, you're okay. But that backfired, as I committed Mushrooms Cardinal Sin Numero Uno: Don't look at yourself in the mirror. No sir, not ever, under no conditions.

Am I dying? Am I dead? Do I normally look this gaunt? No, fat. No, wait, holy shit my eyes are huge, look at those pupils, ha, pupils, that's funny. Is that funny? Yeah, that's funny, funny like those jokes about manboobs. Oh man, that guy just looked at me funny, I bet his name is Boris, maybe Lucy. I gotta get out of here, wait, where the fuck am I, can't I just go home at the snap of my fingers, wait, I have fingers, yeah man, check out my fingers, dude, look at this. Oh no, no, my fingers are freaking me out, bad fingers. Baddddfingeerrrrrrr. Stop singing to yourself. Get out of here already. I hope you die. Nooo, stop. I'm okay. I'm gonna die. I'm not. Wash your face. Fuck you.

So I washed my face and left the bathroom, and proceded to get pushed threw a throng of unkempt hippie folk, everyone's eyes darting side to side, everyone looking like the Reaper himself ready to claim me. Pushed and pushed and pushed, I finally made it to to the side of the tiny concourse and bumped into Fake Jerry of the Dead cover band Dark Star Orchestra (who looked a lot like the hyperlink picture attached). "Jerryman you'regreat Igottago, um, okay, kick ass whatever" I think I mumbled to him. By the stroke of luck, I ran into two friends who told me I looked like shit, and one went to get me some water. It was then that I pulled up next to the ketchup and mustard dispenser kiosk across from the concessions stand and began to vomit up everything I had in me, which wasn't much. After all, mushrooms are food poisoning. It felt better, but I still felt really high. Then I felt the hand of a stranger on my back, as a nice fella came over to say in a typical stoner hippie voice, "Happened to me in Vegas man, happened to me in Vegas." And it's happening to me now. It's all happening. Emily Rugburn.

Slowly I got back in the positive frame of mind, but halfway through the second set when I looked at Donnie and said, "If they don't play Moma Dance right now I'm going home," he knew that I was serious. Bam! Moma Dance! The band abides! Now I was determined to end this trip on a great note, and indeed I did. All systems go. From then on out, I saw it and it was good.
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And lastly, have you seen the horror? Have you? This weekend I spotted the incomparable Buddy from Just One of the Guys/Mikey from Parker Lewis Can't Lose, actor Billy Jayne, on a Circuit City commercial, hawking plasma televisions for the electronic retailer. Oh Buddy/Mikey, I know you gotta live and feed your family like Latrell Sprewell, but I figured after doing those Bud Light mershes a few years back you'd cool it on the awful sell-out appearances. The guy who uttered the immortal line "Hey yo scumbag! Suck your own! Eat me...Mom says "Hi'" should never be reduced to pitching high definition wares on national television. Shouldn't happen. Yer better than that, Billy, yer be'er.

5 Comments:

At 10:41 AM, Blogger ricklestein said...

Try punching "allow myself to introduce myself" into a search engine (I used Yahoo!), its got to be in the top five most used sayings in Blog lingo.

 
At 10:57 AM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

Damn, Ricklestein, thanks for pointing that out...that's an expression I'll officially never use ever again. I suck.

 
At 11:03 AM, Blogger poophopanonymous22 said...

thanks for calling peter king out on his steelers statement, i nearly crapped myself reading that, actually, i did crap myself, but it wasnt because of that. with a healthy corey dillon, i am fairly certain that pats game would have played out extremely different

 
At 11:22 AM, Blogger ricklestein said...

I think, perhaps, Blogs are creating a new challange to Google. Google ranks site's importance based on the number of links to and from the site. Since so many blogs link to each other in such an incestuous fashion (and blog popularity is clearly on the rise), their ranking in terms of Google's calculated relevance may be higher than deserved, impeding the flow of useful information.

 
At 12:43 PM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

I have no idea how Google calculates what pages show up where, but if you know how to do that shiite, feel free to send them some new suggestions...I know how to use Google, but as for how it works, I'm a total idiot.

 

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