KSK Gamebook: Week 6 Sunday Games

-This special edition of the Gamebook took place in beautiful downtown Manhattan at the Park Avenue Country Club (NOTE: This is a bar, not an actual country club. Otherwise, we would have seen Bill Simmons walking around.) Joining me for the 1PM and 4PM games was none other than our very own Matthew Ufford, aka Captain Caveman, which was fitting given the Polamalu hair pull.

-Drink count: 3 pitchers of beer, two pints, one Bloody Mary that was clearly made with V8, one plate of wings, one plate of fries. Call me soft and I'll fucking hit you. My wife and kid were in Germany for a week, so I spent the previous three days on a steady diet of drugs and alcohol to keep my mind limber. You try sitting on a bar stool (which is basically a high chair without the tray) for 6 six hours after debasing yourself so enthusiastically.

-One way in which the Park Ave. Country Club is the same as a regular country club: it has a bathroom attendant. There is no greater incongruity than seeing a bunch of guys in Eagles jerseys shaking the weasel with a bathroom attendant standing sentry. At 6:30, the guy had a grand total of about ten singles in his tip tray. NFL fans, apparently, are even cheaper asswipes than German tourists.

-CC and I both saw The Departed. We both agreed: there are plenty of plot holes in the movie, but the flick is so fucking badass that anyone who bothers to nitpick it should be hit in the face with a beer mug.

-Also agreed upon: High definition broadcasts are clearer than actual human eyesight. This completely fucks me up. If I watched the game live, it wouldn't be as clear as if I watched it in HD. I wasn't even stoned when I thought of this.

-Also agreed upon: A noticeable curbing of Manning-featured advertising. I work in advertising, so I know that advertisers will immediately pull any ad that tracks poorly. Which is what happens when your focus group research returns quotes like, "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ANOTHER DIPSHIT FUCKING MANNING?! FUCK YOU IN THE PANTS, AD MAN!"

-When you go to the bar, and your favorite team isn't playing, you spend a lot of time trying to figure out which game to look at. I decided on 50% Eagles/Saints and 50% our appealingly thick-in-the-britches barmaid. Hey girl, my flattering glance will be your tip for the day. Bask in the glow.

-As the lone Seahawk fan in the house, Caveman was in the bittersweet position of watching his team kick an insanely long field goal to win a game (after two inexplicable running plays called by Holmgren with no timeouts left), then having no one else in the bar to celebrate it with. When that happens, you have to pump your fist and shout FUCK YEAH!!! and all that shit, and that's pretty much all you get. Sure, I high-fived him. But I'm sure a high-five from me is about as gratifying as a pity hand job from the one fat chick you knew in college.

-The day's other highlight was watching the Skins lose. If you live down in DC, you figure out pretty quickly how Dan Snyder got the way he is. Every Redskin fan down here is an imperious douchebag that believes the team owes him something. Sorry UM, but sometimes the truth needs to be pinched out.

-Also on hand at the bar: Coors Light promo girls, scantily attired and handing out Silver Tickets (which our waiter promptly tossed out) and offering free t-shirts if we posed for pictures in them (NOTE: This offer was made to everyone in the bar, not just Y-List blogging celebrities!)

-The bar also featured a healthy amount of Giant fans. At first, I didn't get this. Giant fans, your team is on local TV. You can watch it at home for free, on your couch. You can even jack it at the half. Why would you drop $40 on shitty beer and crummy bar food? But then I realized that, every time I turned to watch the Giants play, Eli Manning would throw a pass three feet high of his intended target. So perhaps you need the support of a group to deal with the prospect of ten more years of that shit.

-Another staple of bar football viewing: The Overreaction. This happens when a receiver appears to have caught a long pass, and every fan of that team stands up and goes batshit. But then, the ball is clearly dropped, and everyone must sit back down like nothing ever happened. Or, they'll put their hands behind their head and do the "I can't fucking believe that shit" thing. Either way provides maximum awkwardness and douchebaggery.

-Two other thrilling finishes included the Saints beating the Eagles in a very non-flukey manner. With four great skill position players and a good QB, the Saints are able to execute long drives and keep pressure off their defense, which in turn has grown more confident from the support. That'll serve them well when they abandon the disadvantaged blacks of New Orleans for the vacant pussy of LA.

The other great finish was Michael Clayton's last-second TD grab, which, in a nifty bit of irony, robbed the Bengals of a victory. The winning pass was thrown by Bruce Gradkowski, who totally looked like my pot dealer from Friday night. That's the difference between the Bucs and Bengals. The Bucs only look like drug dealers.