Doc,
Its that time of year again my friend, the desert has transformed over night from a cool paradise full of blooming flora to a sun scorched landscape just as inhospitable as hell itself. In other parts of the country April showers yield May flowers but not in my pat of the world bubba. The end of April signifies the culmination of the NFL off season with one final burst of testosterone driven broadcasting. Behind us already is the initial spree of free agency where master less Ronin hawk there services to whichever house is willing to pay the most. Fistfuls of cash are thrown around like Monopoly money and while there isnt anything as grievous as the Sex Boat Scandal on the radar Im sure an NFL pro or two has quietly snorted a couple of lines of Peruvian cocaine off the backside of a naked hooker in some Las Vegas hotel room. After all what better place to celebrate your new job when your paycheck now averages $5.2 million per year? With a drought of real football news from now until training camps open up in July it is only fitting that the famine we are all about to weather is preceded by a gluttonous feast.
Because this is how the real fanatics do it; out Friday night until all hours rambling on with giddy excitement about predictions, picks, trades and which team will be the obvious laugher when it is all said and done. All manners of stimulants make us all slap happy and I barely remember guiding my Mako Shark back to home base, let alone my head hitting the pillow as the adrenaline wears off and the drugs take hold. Four hours later the three alarms I set to go off exactly one minute apart pull me out of bed. Bleary eyed I eyeball the clock and note that I did a bang up job sleeping through these electronic devices; Im already late. This marks five years in a row that the rabble rousers and I have drowned in a deluge of off season football and being drunk by 10 AM.
Jesus Doc has it been five years already? It seems like just yesterday you were fighting the good fight in the suburbs outside of D.C. and I was running around like the Marquis De Sade on an opium bender. Now youre in Ohio as your wanderlust and need for gainful employment propels you to and fro while the desert turns into a suburban gridlock before my very eyes. Good thing I here about Ohio is that a number of super power ball winners keep popping up there. If you are a gambling man (and I know you are) Id drop some cash on that cow to see what you can shake out of it. Myself, well Vegas is calling again and if some lecherous swine can drop a pretty penny on the Steelers in August and see a sizeable return come February; hell Doc Ill take odds like that. Shit my mind is already wandering off; the temperature is crawling towards one hundred degrees already and Im afraid my brain and body are already moving towards hibernation mode. As Ive lauded on before seasons are reversed in the desert. The weather dictates minimal movement and health hazards in June, July and August where as come February instead of shoveling snow from driveways and plugging in cars we are attending outdoor Jazz festivals and laughing at Puxatony Phil; no jumbo sized sewer rat from the North will ever affect our paradise. Damn it Im off again so before I crack up completely back to the matter at hand.
While attempting to set a new land speed record and keep a beer precariously perched in my lap as I signaled, weaved through traffic, smoked cigarettes and loaded the hash pipe I nearly had a collision with one of the last seasonal immigrant blue hairs that for no explainable reason drive five miles under the speed limit in the furthest left lane on one of the super highways that crisscross the landscape. I dont need to tell you how much such an instance of vehicle to vehicle impact would have effected my day (not to mention further ruin the rest of what has turned out to be quite the forgettable year to date anyway). Hauling balls out with the cruise control set at 90mph dodging traffic and wondering how long before some astute law enforcement agent notices the tags on my sun-roofed clad car expired five months ago is not good for the nerves. I was further and nearly driven to a public freak out when to my dismay I discovered that there are an innate amount of very sober people who decide to do their grocery shopping at 845AM on a Saturday morning. Who are these cads, these visions of wholesomeness that casually saunter down aisles unaware that a half crazed dope headed football fanatic is barreling down on them muttering incoherently to himself? As always, the populace is lucky this writer doesnt travel armed to the teeth in public much these days. Thanks in part to my maniacal driving I was able to relax slightly and procure the necessary ingredients to cook breakfast and arrive even before Houston was officially on the clock.
Oh Doc, biscuits & gravy, chorizo, eggs, bacon, sausage in massive heapsof course an early breakfast turned into a near noon lunch; but you reap what you sow when ingest high grade narcotics cleverly packaged in a gooey, chocolate format. Drunk with delight and even though we knew the outcome of the first pick already we all nodded solemnly when Mario Williams name was announced. This immediately began a discussion about what in the hell the Texans were thinking and before we even knew what was happening the narcotics had taken hold.
Im not afraid to say it Doc; Im a Lienhart fan. I was on the line with one of my contacts at the draft headquarters for my beloved franchise when the Tagliabue announced the pick. Simultaneous roars of joy hit me from both sides; the assembled cronies were dancing and hugging as if we had already won the Superbowl while the crowd at the draft headquarters nearly blew out my ear drums before the line went dead. Hollywood has come to Phoenix. With a solid outing from both days (that Pope kid from Georgia is 68; what a monster!) it is with no surprise that Denny was ear to ear smiles. Hope once again springs eternal in the desert. A new stadium, big name players and what seems to me as a legit attempt at winning after all has gotten the desert buzzing heartily. The excitement generated from this day of days has put a temporary ease on the pain from the Florida debacle, but Im afraid Im not going to come out into the light of day and search for my shadow until well into August when the preseason starts.
In the meantime it seems your Romeo has built up a team from the scraps of what that bastard Butch left behind. I dig the free agent additions that have already made the defense look fierce and the Bill Parcels philosophy; you can NEVER have too many linebackers is something your Romeo remembered from his days of yore. Even better for yours truly is that the current backs on the roster appear to be what they are going to head into the summer with. I dont mind telling you that Im a big Ruben fan and the lack of a valid challenger in this situation gives a shot of Barry Bond juice to my fantasy football gambling addiction. Hope your ready for the Charlie Frye era and I hope the kid is too. One thing about football in Ohio; folks have long memories. While Ive heard that Ernest Byner is a stand up guy and made good in his life after football he will always be remembered and never forgiven as one of the key components that help built John Elways legacy and left Bernie Kosar nothing more a faded memory. Good luck kid, youre going to need it.
All good things come to an end and so too did the first round of this most recent NFL draft. Long after most of my colleagues had gone the few of us left shared a moment as the sun set far into the western sky; nearly 12 hours had ticked off the clock and we were all still a bit lit up from the potent fudge drizzled confections. Through nods of agreement and bleary eyed grins of contentment we all agreed that when it comes to American sports and the zealotry of the fan base none can hold a candle to the freaks and geeks who live and die by the National Football League.
Im waiting for my newest unpaid intern to confirm my order for the number 7 Cardinals jersey emblazoned with "HOLLYWOOD" and for a brief moment in time; life is good.
In closing I didnt expect my draft day to end on a couch in a familiar home being licked awake by an overly aggressive 100lb Siberian husky while a looming form I didnt recognize offered me a blanket. Old Style in any amount of over abundance has the same effect that any other brewed beverage does; only cheaper. The one thing I must note about the day after is that while the baked goods I sampled were superb, the after affects were not; the intestinal fortitude of this old gray stallion aint what it used to be. I hear 30 is the new 20 but dismiss such notions as propaganda from sources that I neither know nor trust.
The sun is starting to descend and I feel one more desert sunset is in order before I shun the sunlight for another summer. Keep fighting the good fight Doc, well have our day yet. As a writer I still cant decide that when that day does come if it would be best to be "famous" or "infamous", but Im going to go with whichever pays the best.
Mahalo and regards to you Doc.
Your friend,
Jack Hunter
Freelance writer, world renowned brownie aficionado and rabid football fan.