By Spence Blazak
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!"
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!"
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