I manage getting to sporting events about as often as I post, so I thought I would commemorate this solemn occasion with a few random thoughts.
- Prior to the Iowa State game, I was riding the high of the big victory over Nebraska. Their coaches certainly look like Mensa members:
So it meant something!
I had even unearthed the following short piece in my home directory at work while cleaning out files this past week. I considered it a sign:
Dear Steven (and world),
Keenan Ivory Wayans. The Glimmer Man.
You: "special" credit card.
Goons: Guns, knives, explosives, and possibly a bazooka.
Outcome: Three dead bad guys, a theater filled (defined as me and two homeless people) with applause, and me inventing the line "I wish I knew how to quit you" (too bad I didn't trademark it).
I will never forget your cinematic presence or the way you gracefully aged and transitioned into wearing moccasins. The world without your movies is a world I want no part of. I'll see you soon, and I'll have my American Express in hand.
Yours in peaceful violence,
The Hairline of Wade Boggs
I have absolutely no recollection of why I wrote this or who the intended target audience was, but I immediately thought of this Texas team when I ran across it again: it was time to tear through the rest of this schedule in a peaceful and enlightened manner, much like Mr. Seagal. Ahem. (by the way, you must watch The Glimmer Man if you have not, it is Seagal at his finest: half blowhard, declining action skills, and a strong sense of self entitlement...hey, wait a second, on second thought....)
- If you haven't been to the BarkingCarnival tailgate extravaganza, GO. Mr. and Mrs. Vasherized are the finest of hosts, and he only made fun of me once, despite the fact that I:
- Looked at Trips quizically when he handed me a coozie to help twist off
my beer bottle cap.
- Ruined an in-game interview by drunkenly yelling that we only needed
three field goals to win the game.
- I am seriously considering ditching my name and officially changing it to the Hairline of Wade Boggs. I easily remembered everyone's handle that I was introduced to, whereas I'm usually reduced to slapping people on the back at the end of get togethers and saying, "It was great...meeting...you?"
- If you're manning a pedicab, wait until after the game before you start asking people if they want rides, lest you ride around in circles looking forlornly at all of the still ambulatory fans making their way to the stadium. You can get there an hour after the game starts, and you won't lose a penny. Actually, with this team, make that a half hour. By then, enough fans will be walking out either disgusted and/or plastered that you will start to make plenty of fares. I know, your hardcore obese dispatcher/boss tells you to get out there early, but park yourself in some garage and partake of the pre-game festivities and/or smoke a joint.
- I had worn my burnt orange with pride, but after the game, I got a sick feeling as I slinked my way back home. Sure enough, a skinny pants hipster and his girlfriend were riding an escalator right in front of me in a store that will not be named. Skinny pants hipster turns around and inquires about the score of the game. I tell him the score, and his eyes get big. He turns back to his girlfriend, and she says something to him. He turns back in my general direction, and says with a self-satisfied smirk,
"Yeah, that's embarrassing."
No come back on that one.
Normally I would at least have some snappy retort that I would mutter to myself (since I'm about as courageous as Lewis Skolnick) about how Austin is being ruined by all of these young whippersnappers and their fancy hair cuts (I've met enough men under the age of 30 with hair stylists that I'm considering moving to Ciudad Juarez, where hipsters are not allowed out in the wild). Fuck.
- I split my time between the BC tailgate and the Shiner Smokehouse tailgate. Met two beer distributors from Wisconsin (I think that's probably a redundant phrase, "beer distributors from Wisconsin") down for something related to Shiner. In between the "Ehs" and "Doncha knows," I got their thoughts on the question that I ask of every Wisconsinite that I run into: Favre or Packers. I've been surprised by the number of people that have remained loyal to Favre even after Dong-gate 2010, but these two were squarely in the camp of the Packers, hinting at their displeasure at Favre's antics prior to leaving
Amusingly enough, as we discussed the UT game a bit, which they were about to head in for, they told me they were expecting a blow out. I made my usual disparaging comments about our offense and tried my best to tamp down expectations, but never could have imagined that even my usual worst case scenario was going to be blown out of the water.
- I have little to say about the game that hasn't already been said best by others. However, on my way home, I snapped a picture of the migrating grackles:
It reminded me of the Birds. There are plenty of themes that go completely over my head, like civilization overtaking nature and nature fighting back, or the the pervasive paranoia of the 1960s due to the Cold War and the possible threat of eminent disaster (that could of course be averted by ducking your head under your desk). The one that resonates in our situation is the utter feeling of helplessness as you step outside of the cabin to find birds as far as the eye can see.
In our case, they'll shit on our windshields and steal our chimichangas,
much like our coaching staff.