Damn, this blog fucking sucks lately!
Sooo, let's talk about some NFL Football. I've documented my affinity for this before I believe? Yes, well...it's fun stuff ok?!? My friend Rich, a real cool guy, has created a fan cult called "Cutler Corner" to enhance his game time fan-dom for the Chicago Bears. Now that's a cool name for a fan club! Rolls of the tongue and even cleverly incorporates a players name in it. Nice! It's been growing in popularity for a couple seasons already and even has a sweet nylon sign which is hung on the wall of Tully O'Reilly's (Sports Bar in Northampton) on days that the Chicago Bears play. I have to hand it to them Cutler Corner people, they're all rabid Bears fans, make lots of annoying noise that winners tend to make, they get delusional, they hoot, they holler and generally have too much fun. Thing is, the Bears are also a competitive football team and this makes it even more exciting for these beady-eyed fans in Cutler Corner.
Gee..it must be nice to follow a football team that you can get excited about.
I got a little jealous about not having a fan club for the Miami Dolphins to support the way they "play football". I decided to take the appropriate action to reflect the way us true fans feel about our team. To reflect and personify the way we feel when watching the Dolphins "compete". I created a fan club of my own, in honor of the Miami Dolphins. It's called "The Bastion of Despair". The name doesn't rhyme, doesn't roll of the tongue and doesn't feel good. That's also how it feels when you watch the Dolphins play. Now, while Cutler Corner has a snazzy nylon banner with a dazzling picture of their dreamboat Quarterback Jay Cutler on it, our banner simply has a black and white picture of doomed Jewish holocaust prisoners milling about the yard in a Nazi concentration camp. It has no writing on it (that shit cost money!) and it has no color or excitement on it or about it. Like the Dolphins.
Cutler Corner went mobile yesterday as Tullys was closed this Sunday. They showed up en-force to support the Bears at another local venue, and I heard it was fun and boisterous.
Our fan club started yesterday.
The Dolphins played against the Denver Broncos and their new starting Quarterback, "Jesus" Tim Tebow. We watched the game, all five of us. Six if you include my dog Ammo who I chained to a shelf in my basement and who wouldn't stop barking the whole fucking time. Yes, The Bastion of Despair is to be held in my damp, bleak and cold basement each Sunday. There we sat with emaciated faces...clutching our knees, biting the lower lip and rocking back and forth, shivering, shattered and timidly confused as we watched the football "contest". One fan sits on my roomates wet laundry, unaware of his surroundings. We cringe as Matt Moore narrowly avoids throwing another interception...we witness the Running Backs dancing around the line of scrimmage in terror of getting hit and of course, the defense is generous enough. We just stare blankly as the offense does not move the ball. We have been conditioned to this. We look at each other nervously, afraid of eye contact...wailing and grinding of teeth can be heard amidst the silence and the crackle of the black and white television that barely receives a signal, causing poor reception but somehow not adding to our frustration.
Inevitably, the reprieve of Halftime arrives and we head upstairs during for some "light" torture in order to lighten our moods, and also for our ceremonial shot of whiskey in my roomates rather cluttered bedroom. One member of The Bastion of Despair trips on some clothing that had been strewn about and sustains a very real head wound. We calmly drag her body downstairs as we pass a Denver Broncos fan in the kitchen who is coked out of his mind and screaming in our faces while wearing a Tim Tebow jersey. He is momentarily halted in his reveling in order to ask if that is a blood trail from the body we're dragging? I tell him it is only ketchup. He does some more coke. We don't. We continue our methodical descent back to the basement to determine what to do with the body. We have not checked to see if she is alive or dead but we do share an unspoken sense of relief for her either way as she will either miss the rest of this game or every Dolphins game going forward.
We make our way down to The Bastion of Despair for the second half. Still dragging the accident victim behind us, we hear Ammo's high-pitched barking increase in volume as we descend. Ammo has obviously tried to free herself from the tiny Dolphins "Doggie Jersey" that I made her wear. She almost got out from the looks of it too. Funny, she seemed more focused on getting that off of her than freeing herself from being tied up??
The game resumes and we see Dolphins head coach Tony Sparano, under pressure to get more asses in the seats, prancing up and down the sideline wearing ass-less leopard print spandex, with high heeled boots pulled up over the knees. Sassy! He dons a leather belt, bedazzled with the words "Daddy's Little Girl" and a black leather vest with tassels...he cheerleads his team, complete with ass-slaps to certain players who got a measly three yard gain(???), to a 15-0 lead in the fourth quarter. But then, after kneeling in prayer on his sideline, "Jesus" Tim Tebow struck back. He ran, he threw, he hustled and he completed a pass or two to a player wearing a Broncos jersey with the number 777 on it. The player also had sandals and what appeared to be a white robe of sorts flowing beneath his untucked non-regulation jersey...the player flew through the air for numerous big gains and seemingly in the same manner that winter arrives in New England every year, we are tied 15-15 and heading to overtime. Shuffling of the feet can be heard in between barks from the still-chained-up-and-now-agitated Ammo. We approach overtime and await our predetermined fate...wailing and grinding of the teeth continues along with subtle groans of doom. The Dolphins go on to lose 18-15 and fall to 0-6 on the year. Our halftime falling victim has awoken in time to see the outcome, it's another loss. She decides to kill herself. Can't wait for next weeks session of The Bastion of Despair...just can't wait.
Could this have all been in my head? Possibly a delusional skit of the Dolphins futility with particular relevance to my following of their team and brought on by continuous feelings of futility and hate??? Was it somehow real but challenged and thus repressed by my subconscious mind, refusing to believe that I had sunk this low???
I may never know but all I can remember is that there are only two rules of The Bastion of Despair:
Rule #1) You do not talk about The Bastion of Despair.
Rule #2) You do NOT talk about The Bastion of Despair.
...Other than in this blog post of course, which is relatively safe because no-one reads it.