20 January 2006

We Are So Going To Very Narrowly Beat The Panthers

Our QB and their QB are friendly with
each other. Andre Dyson (SEA) and
Steve Smith (CAR) were college room
mates. Ken Lucas(CAR) is a former
Seahawk and still has a lot of friends on
the team. In short, both teams admire
and respect each other a great deal.
So howcome Skip Bayless, who isn't
on either team, gotta hate so much?


We've been over this before. I know you don't give either one or two rat's asses about football. That's okay. I don't expect everyone to be as obsessed with certain things as I am. However, I would like you to set that peanut butter sandwich down just long enough to suspend the notion that you're not listening at all whilst I rave briefly.

We will beat the Panthers. Even renowned Hawk Hater Skip Bayless says we're gonna beat the Panthers. (My reply to his column is included below.) And - here's a shocker - I like the Panthers. I was all over 'em in Super Bowl XXXVIII. They're a swell buncha guys, a team that no one believed in. They're all the players the other guys passed over. I think their QB Jake Delhomme is a player any team would be lucky to have. And this ragtag buncha scrappers made it all the way to the Super Bowl, and were narrowly defeated by those media darlings, the New England Patriots. That was a skins versus button-down shirts game if ever there was one.

But that's the beauty of this Sunday's game. It's the Good Guys vs. the Good Guys. Neither team is a media darling. If you stacked up all the press that both teams got last year, it wouldn't reach, say, that rat's ass that you care so little about. And yet both of these teams are a stone's throw from the Super Bowl. It takes a lot of heroic tales to come to a crossroads like that, tales that many a douchebag journalist doesn't have the grapes to tell. Why? Not a big enough eyeball draw, hence not "important" enough. Brett Favre (who had a dismal year) cuts himself shaving, and it's headline news. Two also-ran teams scratch and claw their way to the top, and nobody notices.

Okay, so just to prove to you that I can talk about something other than football, let's make some small talk. Ummm - Well. I had a cup full of little cookies after lunch. They had nuts in them, I think. I went to the Seahawks Pro Shop and - no wait! That's football. My bad. Okay. So - yeah. How 'bout that Mozart? Two-hunnert and fitty years old this year. Dang. That guy rocks like Dokken. Ever heard that "Rock Me Amadeus" thing? Ossum.

So how's the real estate thing going in Nevada? (Do they still have real estate in Nevada? Or do they call it something else, like Arroyo Cayuse Longhorn Flintcraw Saddlecock?) Real estate - now that's mostly dirt, right? Or is it something fancier? Like dirt with cheese in it?

(By now your katana-sharp intellect has seized upon the fact that without football, most interpersonal conversation is a rather grim and sugarless affair - is it not? I believe I speak the truth.)

'Kay. So. That's about it for now. Goodnight and Go Hawks! Or if that's too gauche a phrase to pass your delicate eyes, then I say Geaux Hacques to you!

Cheers, and give my best to Marie.


My reply to Skip Bayless' column:
Skip, you're still welcome in Seattle as far as I'm concerned, regardless of your opinion of our team. Seattleites welcome dissenting views. I'm a true blue Seahawks fan, I admire the Panthers, and I'm looking forward to a very good game. I have no underhanded jibe or thinly veiled putdown to insert here, either. All I can say is that I'm sorry you feel the way you do. I can't see how such vehement negativity could possibly increase anyone's enjoyment of The Greatest Sport Ever Devised By Man any more than me insulting you for your low opinion of my team would ennoble me. I love football and I support my team, win or lose. I wish you the best of luck in all your future endeavours, whether they include a trip to Seattle or not. -TRG

15 January 2006

Poetry & Football: Together Again For The First Time

Poet Megan Grumbling:
Probably not a huge Seahawks fan. Posted by Picasa


Look, I know that you've had it up to here (he said, indicating a latitude about 4'10" from the floor) with me going on and on about football. The season will be over as of the night of February 5th, so at least you may take some comfort in the fact that there will be no more fuel for my obsession. After the Super Bowl, my interests will no doubt return to the introspective - Buddhism, poetry, coffee, dysthymia - you know, the standard Pacific Northwest leisure pursuits.

Speaking of the Pacific Northwest, here are some quick notes on life in the Big Wet One:

  • As of this morning, we are on our 27th consecutive day of rain. As of Friday, our annual precipitation is 4.10" above average, a fact that I find 99.9% less than ossum. We don't live in a state. We live in a leaky basement.
  • Humorous sign seen on a house during a recent trip to Portland, OR: HIPPIES USE SIDE DOOR.

And speaking of hippies - Arrrrgh! Body - strong! But - will - weak! Must talk about football!! Jake Plummer, the quarterback of the Denver Broncos, has either ceased all forms of personal hygiene for the duration of the playoffs, or is appearing in an off-Broadway revival of Jesus Christ Superstar. His exceedingly beardacious and hair-riffic appearance caused me to dub him Jakus Christ Superstar while the Gunn household was enjoying the Patriots/Broncos game yesterday. By the way, Jakus Christ and the Broncs beat Tom CryBrady and the rest of Coach Bill Bitch-A-Lot's Patriots rather soundly - 27-13. Undoubtedly, the Patriots will attempt to file a nuisance suit in civil court claiming fraud, robbery and battery by a crazed band of hippies in tight white pants. ("We was only there to goes and does some skiin', which we hear is wicked nice in Colorader this time of yee-uh," the plaintiffs said.)

Which brings me to poetry. Had a rather nice discovery in the last issue of Poetry magazine. (Yeah, I'm a subscriber, so what? Shut up!) A poet with the unfortunate name of Megan Grumbling (adolescence must've been hell on her, no doubt obviating the career choice) has a book out titled Booker's Point, a series of poems written around and about an old Maine coot named Booker. Poetry magazine has a selection from it online, the poem Raking Near The Great Works. (Please go read it before they update the page and the link breaks.) It might remind you a lot of the autumns we had in Michigan. Now that I live in the Land Of Two Seasons (and those would be Unbearably Shitty and Fawking Gorgeous), I miss those true autumns something ferocious.

And one final note, since you probably haven't been following the playoffs much-if-at-all, the Seattle Seahawks won their first playoff game in 21 years. And they did it despite 3 turnovers and the loss of their NFL MVP running back in the second quarter - which of course prompted me to write the following truly awful (and probably the first) Seahawks football haiku:

You heard us knocking / Now the door is coming down / Cold pond overruns

Cheers, and give my best to Marie.