Softknocks: Wookiee Football Week 2, Part 1

By Spence Blazak

PREGAME

We keep putting off practice. Rips is in New York City at the Shins concert, Bayo took a nap at 7 o'clock, and my nervous twitch has returned after a ten year absence. After almost crying tears of joy from watching the Giants beat the Eagles for the first time in almost 4 years and laughing my ass off because the Bills won a game, I am convinced all of the stars have been aligned by the football gods.

After the team is almost torn apart during pre game synergy because I said I hated Finding Nemo and Ali (head cheerleader of the Leahs) took it personally, we finally decide to meet in the middle and agree that the Japanese talking fish movie Ponyo is an acceptable movie to watch. So we turn it on. Bayo wakes up to say: "what in the hell is a Ponyo….?"

Its time to reveal to the team the name of our opponent….."House 27". I didn't think it could get much scarier than the New Gibbons Housing Project, but it just did. The ambiguity sends shivers down my spine. After I mop up the newly formed puddle of urine at the base of my feet, we get ready to get ready.

I put on pants. Bayo moves up slightly. I get my victory cigar primed. Kelly steals James's phone and makes James's Facebook status "I love Kelly and Ali." We spend the next five minutes making fun of how stupidly unoriginal that was.

-GOALS FOR THE GAME:

-Get a first down

-Make our touchdown dance the Party Rock Shuffle/Cat Daddy

-Not check the Red Sox score, so I don't throw up my entire organs on the field

We move outside. We realize we don't really know how to organize a defense. James's idea is to hire New Orleans safety Darren Sharper, considering he is the "hardest hitting safety in the league." I then proceed to yell that Evan put the "team on his back" for the next twenty minutes.

To make sure we have enough people, I try to recruit James's roommate Joe. He declines. So I offer him the coveted position of performing the half time show at our game. He, yet again, declines. I respond by giving him the ball and telling him to throw it to me. It almost goes in a tree. I throw it to him. He misses it. I offer him a starting spot at wide receiver. He goes inside. I feel dejected.

Most of the troops show up, except for Goodhand. I call him several times. He doesn't pick up. I'm nervous. Very nervous. House 27 sounds waaaaay scarier than someone we have any chance of winning against.

A new player approaches from the distance. He introduces himself as Dalton. He is a veteran of the RIFFL, having a year under his belt and a few games played this year on the Busch League for another team. He wears not one, but two articles of Under Armour apparel. He also seems to know how to actually play. This immediately qualifies him more than any of us. I tell him to take three steps and do a slant inward. He does it, I throw him the ball, he catches it. We've hit the jackpot.

I call Goodhand again. No response. We miss the bus. I look like this guy. Now we will be cutting it very close. We pass a little more time by trying to figure out whether Ali is wearing a fanny pack or a satchel. I make note of this in my notebook, and it appears that at some point she stole the book and wrote "purse." Hmmmm I guess some things will always remain a mystery. Then after a few minutes spent making fun of Kelly for having never seen Indiana Jones, I call Goodhand again who says he is coming eventually. I have the team start walking to the bus stop, ready for defeat. What? Whats that in the distance running toward us like a savior from the sky? GOODHAND!

Now we have a full roster (Me, Evan, Bayo, Michael, James, Dalton, and Goodhand), and we arrive at the bus stop.

Michael: "How are we going to avoid having our flags taken?"

Me: "Playing dirty. We will run with our arms flailing all over so no one will be able to take our flags down. And yell. A lot. Loudly."

Dalton: "Yeah…..you can't actually do that"

Me: "No problem, how about we start warming up to 'Twist and Shout' and dance to it. Then our skills will translate over to the game! A wax on wax off type deal!"

Michael: "We are turning into the real life version of The Replacements".

He's right. The second a sumo wrestler signs up for our team, I'm done.

I go to fill up my absurdly large jug with water and I return to find that Evan has drawn a massive phallus in my notebook. Then Kelly tries to steal my notebook and gets water all over it. Michael pulls me to the side….

Michael: "Spence…..I think Kelly is a spy."

I look from side to side making sure she can't hear us. Me: "I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks so"

Michael: "She has failed the first test, by trying to destroy the notebook."

Kelly hears our dialogue and kicks Michael in the ACL.

Me: "AN ATTACK! SHE HAS FAILED TEST TWO!"

Evan points out that there is a man with a football and cleats sitting a few paces away from us.

Evan: "I think that man is on House 27"

Bayo: "Fuck, we better hope not, if he has cleats and we are playing him, we are fucked."

Me: "Cleats? Good grief, who cares. And yeah, he very well could be on the team we are playing."

Kelly: "Thats ridiculous."

Michael: "That seals it, he is on the team."

Kelly fails test three.

Goodhand: "Does anyone else find it ironic that Rips lives in Marlboro, and yet he smokes Camels?"

Text from Rips: "No matter what happens out there tonight, boys, we will be Wookiees forever! Go out there and smoke 'em!"

Then the blog post goes where its never been before……metaphysics. With everyone looking at my notebook and becoming self aware and already leaving the present to find themselves sitting on their laptops reading the post that you are now reading. As they try to manipulate themselves into a character they want to see a stench of existential humanity permeates the proverbial nostrils of our fair team. I need a better way to take notes.

Dalton tells me that he loved the movie version of Moneyball. Good omen.

The bus decides to show up a little late, so I decide to make the executive decision to call Commissioner Voldemort and stretch the truth by saying the bus is very very very very very very very very late. We call him. He yells at us for calling him. He gives us the number of the right person to talk to. Stupid Voldemort. Its a conspiracy theory, man, he gives us the 10 PM game almost every week and now he won't talk to us. Darth Vader plus Hannibal Lector

The bus arrives. We climb aboard. Bayo doesn't sit with us. Note to self: HE'S NOT GETTING AWAY THIS TIME.

Evan: "Have I ever told you about Gick?"

James: "GIIIIIIIIIIIICK"

Me: "….?"

Evan: "Gick Niffin."

James: "GIIIIIIIIIIIIICK"

Me: "Go on"

Nick Griffin. Resides in Kansas. Obsessed with Tom Hanks. Expelled from high school for ordering 200 photocopies of vegetables to the main office. An original Dubstep DJ (DJ FUNKLESS). Favorite hobby: friending people on Facebook also named Nick Griffin. His Facebook name is "Gick Badgurl Niffin." He might be reading this now. There was too much awesomeness in Evan's description of him to not give him a mention.

Bayo looks like he has just seen the Cloverfield monster. I turn to where he is looking to see a burly looking rugby type. He is also wearing a white balance bracelet.

Bayo:"No.No.Nononononononononononononononononononononono!!!!!!!!"

Me:"I know, I know, he has balance on his side, but we have-"

Bayo:"CLEATS!"

Me:"What?"

Bayo:"CLEATS! HE HAS CLEATS!"

Me: *face palm*

I text my friend Dave: "pray for us"

Bayo has not blinked while looking at this guy's cleats.

Bayo: "Hey…..are you playing flag football?"

Guy: "Yeah. House 27."

What a fucking clown. I don't like him. Goodhand says that he is on the rugby team with him and dislocated his shoulder the other day. I'll make sure to play to his destroyed shoulder....

Text from Dave: "May God guide you in your quest."

James: "Hey Bayo, is your friend Jamil coming to play for us tonight?"

Me: "…………………….you mean "Rommel"?"

Bayo: "Oh. Cool. Did you just say the first black guy name that came into your head? SMH."

Yes. He actually said "SMH."

Bayo is, yet again, staring at the rugby man's cleats. Now he is focused on the size.

Bayo: "Fuck, those things are massive. He'll kill us."

Me: "Its okay, I've got a size 15 blue Reebok sneaker on. My foot could eat his."

Creepy guy next to Bayo who looks like an axe murderer/ the villain from The Lovely Bones chimes in with a quick: "Well I'm an 11…….which is PREEEEEEEEEETTY big!"

My reaction:

We arrive. The field is made of mud. After taking a pre game "wizzle" on the side of the athletic building, Bayo excitedly shows me that he his quest has paid off and he has found a mud covered cleat in the grass. Funny. I thought his search would end like this.

Dalton: "Great. One step closer to our goal……."

I like this kid.

Michael: "I'm scared we won't have enough separation from these kids with our receivers. We need to hire Rutgers WR Mohammed Sanu."

Me: "I've got it! We will seduce him...... using Kelly's body! I'll send him the picture of Scarlett and say he has that waiting for him if he comes to a Wookiee game!!!!"

I'm heralded as a hero.

Kelly: "What was that?"

All seven of us: "NOTHING!…..RUN!"

GAME TIME. WOOKS VS. HOUSE 27.

We go through pinnies looking for our favorite numbers to wear. I know what number I want….13. Taylor Swift's birthday and the number she writes on her hand before every show <3.

Goodhand: "Taylor Swift sucks."

Everything freezes.

Me: "DO YOU WANT TO BE ON THIS FUCKING TEAM, SON!?!?!?!??! DON'T YOU EVER LET ME HERE THAT SHIT AGAIN! YOU KEEP YOUR WHORE MOUTH SHUT-I'm sorry. I can't help it"

I recognize one of the refs from my Music class. We sit in the back and make fun of what a joke the class is. Wooks have another man on the inside. This could be prudent.

We win the toss. We select to receive. First down, sack. Second down, sack. Third down, dropped pass. Fourth down, false start on punt, turned over to House 27 on our one yard line. I blitz the quarterback, I slip in the mud and he runs in for a touchdown. The kid was slower than me, I had six inches and at least sixty pounds on him! What happened!!!!!! Oh no………………….cleats.

On their PAT they go for two points, and WE BLOCK IT!!!!! It was due to a miscommunication on their part BUT I DONT GIVE A SHIT BECAUSE WE BLOCKED IT!!!!!!! VICTORY IS OURS!!!!!! I high five everyone and the referees break down laughing at my absurdity.

The game then goes south very quickly for three reasons: we keep getting false starts, we throw five interceptions returned for touchdowns, and the opponents are fuck faces. Like every competitive game I've ever played in my life, I immediately start taking it way to seriously, become emotionally invested in the game, and turn into a wild man. A ball is thrown to me, the kid covering me puts his hands on my elbows and pushes. The ball falls down. No flag. I immediately throw a John McInroe tantrum. Then I come back to reality…..I'm just too damn tired for it today.

After the score is 28-0, we get off a few good plays with Bayo. The problem is that he can't juke on them because, you guessed it, no cleats. I'm on the O-Line now. I'm blocking #10. On offense, when he gets a touchdown, he usually says something along the lines of "Damn! I wish I could have stiff armed! I would have been able to score ten seconds earlier!" I hate this miserable weasel.

He keeps getting sacks, so I decide to have a turn with him. First play, he bum rushes me, I stand my ground, and draw a ten yard penalty! I've got him where I want him. Next few plays he jukes on me a few times, but I keep him from going through. Then on the last down, they have two men try to burn me, and he gets around me. No way he should be able to turn at that an-…….CLEATS!!!!!!!! I throw my arms out to the side like I'm trying to wrassle a hog to the ground. His left eye goes right into my forearm……I bet he didn't count on my bones being made of Adamantium! Down for the count. He is milking his injury. He looks like a slug covered in salt. The refs don't seem to have noticed. He sits the next few plays out. I've just won the Superbowl in my book.

HALFTIME

Me:"Where's my fucking water mug."

I guzzle half of hit and throw it on the ground.

Evan: "We need to use more Bayo. He ran once and now they are scared of him!"

Bayo: "I know! It pays to be black, yo!"

Second half goes the same as the first, but we have a lot more completions. Interceptions kill us. Then, we have three minutes left. We have a good drive, we draw a few penalties, get a first down, and then right as we are about to goal for gold in the red zone………the mercy rule comes into effect and ends the game.

FINAL SCORE 58-0

POST GAME

On the walk back to the bus, we realize that we are in a good place. Now we have a game under our belt, we realize how big of a mental threat Bayo is, and I have a few things up my sleeve.

James: "FUCK! Someone stepped on my last cigarette! Ah well…." He lights up

Evan: "FUCK! Someone stepped on my wallet's condom……yuck…….it exploded……"

I sit on the bus in silence. Kelly sits next to me. She looks at her arm and realizes I've sweated all over it. Oh Kelly. She forgot the first rule of Spence: looking is for free, but touching is gonna cost ya.

James: "Why are your shorts so long?"

Me:"Isn't this better than if they were too short?"

Bayo:"Don't get too down about the loss, man, its all because of the cleats. You ever see The Longest Yard? When Nelly got cleats, you've never even SEEEEN moves like that before! We'll all be Nelly soon."

THE NEXT DAY

I walk into my music class and sit down next to the ref from last night. I check my phone. Apparently the team we are scheduled to play next Sunday dropped out. AUTOMATIC W! But the team we are playing Wednesday is the best team in the RIFFL.

I feel the best way to end the article is a quote from my ref friend: "Those guys you played were such FUCKFACES! Seriously! Who goes for two points every PAT when they are up BY THIRTY POINTS! And I saw you hit that d-bag in the face and take him down. I happily kept my yellow flag in my pocket. I wish that I could have been the one to take him down!"

The Party is Over for R.E.M.

By Peter Long

“The One I Love”, “Radio Free Europe”, “Orange Crush”, “Losing My Religion”, “Nightswimming”, “Man on the Moon”, “Shiny Happy People”, “Everybody Hurts”, “Drive 8”, “Radio Song”, “So. Central Rain”, “What’s the Frequency Kenneth?”, “It’s the End of the World As We Know It”, to be honest, I could go on for days. R.E.M. has put out so much solid material since their inception in 1980 that their fellow musicians (or at least contemporary musicians) should merely quit in embarrassment.

The group called it quits yesterday via their website after almost 30 years of recording, and needless to say they left quite an impression on the musical landscape. They were the fathers of the Athens, Georgia underground-scene in the 1980’s and, perhaps above all else, the fathers of alternative rock; their sound defined by jangly guitars, whiny vocals and melodic punk. Nirvana may have brought punk to the masses, but R.E.M. brought alternative rock to the masses.

Their classic debut, 1983’s Murmur, and their 1995 release Monster bookended what was possibly the most dominant run of albums in rock history, with albums Life’s a Rich Pageant, Document, Out of Time, Green and Automatic for the People sandwiched in-between. Between those years they were considered college-rock darlings and arena-rock mega stars, the first indie-rock group that critics adored to simply the biggest band on the planet for a span of 13 years.

They were the first band to defy the un-spoken corporate rule that a frontman had to look like a super-model, or the bass and guitar players had to do banal choreography during live shows, or the members had to dress a certain way in order to sell records. They did things on their own terms, and ultimately, quit on their own terms.

R.E.M. made it cool to listen to whoever you wanted to listen, it became cool to listen to guys who sang about real problems and emotions, which at the time was a hard concept to understand due to the fact that just a few years before Poison was at the top of the charts singing about having nothing but a good time. R.E.M. opened the doors of perception to the children of suburbia by singing about depression, art, religion and politics all condensed into a three minute pop-song on vinyl or cassette.

In a time when many of their colleagues were constantly hounded by the tabloids, the guys in R.E.M. seemed to keep a low profile. Even as they ascended to become the biggest band in the world there was still a sort of mysterious aura to them. As bands like Pearl Jam and Nirvana were constantly being over explained and analyzed, R.E.M. was still being under explained because they seemed like regular guys. They sort of put this idea in your head that when lead singer Michael Stipe finished a show in which he performed in front of 20,000 people he went back to Athens, hung out at a bar and conversed with the fellow patrons.

If anything, R.E.M. should be remembered as a band who did things first. They were the vanguard of disenfranchised youth before any grunge album hit the charts. They did collaborations with artists such as the B-52’s and KRS-One in order to broaden the horizons of their listeners and simply because they could and wanted to. They gave the hope and opportunity to a generation of kids suppressed by their baby-boomer parents and Reaganism that they too can start band, be an activist, and be political. R.E.M. made great music during a time when people needed great music most; they will go down as a national treasure, and simply a great American rock n’ roll band.

Softknocks: A Season of Football with the Wookiees. Week 1, Part 2

By Spence Blazak

The night before the big game. We spend it with half the team doing a team building exercise: having Bayo teach us about dew rags. After learning their purpose, Evan attempts to try it on, looking like a toddler with a plastic bag over its head. Once we pull it away and save his life, Bayo demonstrates the proper technique. He then told us that when he goes to the bathroom with one on, people who he talks to daily don't recognize him. We all wish that that wasn't so funny. Then we all take pictures of us wearing the dew rag. There is no way we can't win this game.

Rips: "Hey Bayo, can you wear the dew rag to the game? For intimidation factor?"

GAMEDAY

Debating between which song to use for our march out theme. Its between a Scottish bagpipe song….THAT HAS A DUBSTEP BREAKDOWN or the "Miami Hurricanes Theme" where they say "THE U, ITS ALL ABOUT THE U" over and over again. Choices like this suck. I'd rather pick which one of my children I'd sell for gold.

Text from Goodhand: "Got a football. Its good. Its Nike. Hopefully our other sponsors won't mind"

My game plan. Class gets out at 5:50. The game starts at 7. I will quickly grab takeout and go to the bus, meeting the team there. Then I remember that the best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry. Its only a matter of time before I see where everything goes awry……

PREGAME

Get out of class, check my phone, Goodhand and his roommate say they will meet us at the field. No biggie. Then I realize it is raining. And it keeps getting harder. I head back to my room, put on pants, send the mass text out, and meet up with the gang at the dining hall. We have me, Evan, Rips, Bayo, and Michael. A whole team! And possible backups! How can we lose! Michael, Bayo, and I head down to the takeout hall. Its pasta night. Thats a bad omen. A VERY bad omen.

Pasta night is worse than a case of ebola. If Satan came from the depths of hell for one night, and one night only, it is to possess the noodles and sauce of pasta night. The pasta's secret ingredient is the tears of Kenyan orphans.

Any way, I haven't eaten since my daily bowl of Cookie Crisp that morning, so I suffer through. The lunch lady sweetens the deal with Twinkies. I make eye contact with Bayo in the other line. He gives me the "I fucking hate pasta night" face. I smell trouble. That face never leads to good.

Michael and I head upstairs to meet up with the gang until we realize…..WE LOST BAYO. We look, we shout, we shout louder, we panic, we march back to the rest of the team.

Evan: "Twinkies! Nice! So where is Bayo?"

Me: "……………………………………………………………………….……."

Rips: "HOW DID YOU LOSE OUR ONLY BLACK KID!!!! WE ARE DOOMED!!!!"

Me: "Easy guys, we will go to the bus stop, pick up a few of the Princess Leah Cheerleading squad, and I'm sure Bayo will turn up."

On the way to the bus stop, Evan chimes in: "I finally remember the first few rules of the RIFFL handbook. Rule 1 was don't show up intoxicated. Rule 2 was don't talk about RIFFL. I took Rule 1 as a dare. I'm a few deep. FOOBAWWWL!"

I spend the rest of the bus ride there trying to figure out if he was kidding.

As we sit on the bus and wait for it to leave the station, Rips sees that there is an empty bus going to Cook/Douglass behind us as well. It seems like it will leave more quickly, so we all pile off and go to the new bus. Then the bus driver says its out of service. FUCK! WE RUN BACK TO THE FIRST BUS JUST AS THE DOOR IS CLOSING! I see our hopes and dreams of victory driving away…..then at the last second the other guy who we convinced to come with us to the other bus bangs on the door with his fists with Herculean strength.

The doors open. He will get his name on the championship trophy.

To recap, we have 4 players with us, we need 5 to not forfeit, if we forfeit tonight we are out of the league, we have twenty minutes to get to the field, and we are on a bus that will take fifteen minutes. Also, we have Kelly and Laura leading the Leahs for the game. Its okay though! Goodhand will be there!

Text from Goodhand: "I'm going to be late." My reaction.

Michael: "So when we get all the way to forfeit in person-"

Me: "SHUTTUP"

Michael: "Maybe we should shave Kelly's head and put a hat on her. I think she can pass as a boy."

We all slowly turn our heads to look at Kelly. Its like the old cartoons with two guys stranded on an island, and one of the guys hungrily looks at the other one and imagines he is a hot dog. Honestly? The only thing that stops us is that we don't have a razor.

Rips: "You know where the field is right?"

Me: "Ummm yeah. I think its the Athletic Center….right Evan?"

Evan: "Why are you asking me like I know?"

Oh fuck.

We don't actually know where we are going.

I say a prayer.

Dear God,

Please. Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.

Love,

Spence

Evan: "I can't believe I woke up from a fucking nap for this. This is worse than that last practice when you almost tripped over that beaver." Sadly, this really happened. That would have been my career ending injury: A beaver snapped my Achilles tendon.

Kelly: "Who are you playing today?"

Me: "……The New Gibbons Housing Project. I might as well just tear my own ACL now."

I get a call from Commissioner Voldemort. He tells me to hurry. We arrive at the stop. I run as fast as I can to the Athletic Center front desk. I'm winded.

Me: "WHERE…..IS……GAME!!!!!!"

D-Bag at the front desk: "……you didn't see the field over there? Wow."

Me in my head: "How does it feel that your conception was an accident?"

Me in real life: Nothing. Runs back to team. Motions with hand to make way to field. Five minutes to get there before we are disqualified. If we get there in time, we get disqualified any way for not having enough players. The Wookiees may have finally met their match and they haven't even taken one snap. What the hell have I done to this team? No sign of Goodhand, Bayo, or any of the other recruits. We see the golf cart with Commisioner Voldemort.

I wait at the gallows for the executioner to come. He walks over.

Voldemort: "Hey Spence, I'm really sorry for the inconvenience. The New Gibbons Housing Project's captain just called me and said his team was 'afraid of the wet.' Direct quote. I don't know if he realized it stopped raining. Any way, looks like you guys get the W."

WOOOOOOOKIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEESSSSSS WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN

Before he is finished, I am already sprinting down the field with my shirt off pumping my fist. The sun appears just above the rain clouds, and illuminates the few remnant drops of rain that fall onto me. I feel like Andy Dufresne right after he climbed out of the sewer of the prison and was a free man. What a roller coaster day.

Me: "Do you have any extra rule books?"

Voldemort: "We gave those out at the captains meeting"

Me: "…………………captains meeting?"

Everyone groans. He fills us in on the rules we were questioning at practice. Looks like our plays will all work. ITS BAYO!!!!!!

Bayo: "I thought when I made that face about the pasta you would know I was going to have a sit down dinner."

Me: "Alright, congratulations on the win. Lets run a few plays."

Rips: "Hold on"

He runs back to his jacket, gets a cigarette, returns and throws the ball with it dangling out of his mouth's corner.

Evan: "CAN I GO FINISH MY FUCKING NAP NOW!"

The Wookiees are back.

POST GAME

Me: "Hey Kelly, wanna see the picture of this cute girl I'm talking to?"

Kelly: "YeahI"

I show her the picture from last practice of Scarlett Johansson with her "Johanssons" out. Her reaction is the same as that Nazi whose face explodes at the end of Indiana Jones.

Needless to say, I attempt to do it several more times.