Rotoholics.com

I love to watch football, drink and eat cholesterolific food (pretty much in that order).

So why, then, did I have such a difficult time watching football this past weekend at a sports bar? Shouldn’t that be my home away from home?

I was away with friends in Palm Springs this past weekend – so very peaceful and yet so very troubled because for the first time since I was about 11, I was without a DirecTV football package (okay, maybe not quite that long, but much like my iPhone, TiVO, the Internet, central air and the Kardashians, I can’t imagine how my life functioned without it). So, my friends and I made the oh-so-difficult decision to leave our wives and screaming children behind and go to a pub called The Beer Hunter to catch the morning’s activities.

We arrived at 10am, which presented Issue #1: at home, I love that games start at 10am Pacific Time. I get up extra early with the kids so my wife can sleep in (and so she’ll be less irritated when I ignore the family for the rest of the day), grab Starbucks and sink into my couch for a morning of bliss. But when I ordered a regular coffee at The Beer Hunter, it promoted an almost-imperceptible eye roll from our waitress.

Oh… you’re gonna be that guy? her look seemed to say. Ooh, what can I expect? Two refills for the morning? Geez, maybe I can put both kids through college with the 35-cent tip that you leave.

I looked around and saw the half-empty bottles of beer and Bloody Mary glasses. Oh well, I thought… no big deal.

The bar had a pretty nice setup – dozens of screens of various sizes, all playing different NFL games. One of the managers was even taking channel requests. It was all so accommodating. And yet, I missed my big screen, the power of the remote in my hands, my own (clean) bathroom, and the Red Zone Channel. Where have you gone, Andrew Siciliano? Oh well, I thought… no big deal.

Being a fantasy addict, I needed up-to-the-second updates… as did my friends. My buddy Tom brought his laptop and we hooked into to the local Wi-Fi feed. However, I also use my computer to send texts (read: taunts) through our league message board to others, especially my brother. I then use those texts as a basis for my column. I couldn’t use Tom’s computer to do so, so I ended up using my iPhone to track scores and then send texts back and forth. But it just wasn’t the same, and every time I sent a text, I had to go back and restart the fantasy league page, taking up valuable seconds. It was all so… so… 2007. Oh well, I thought… no big deal.

Honestly, I’m just nit-picking here. The main thing was that I was out with friends watching football. Isn’t that enough?

And then, just before kickoff, it started.

“HERE WE GO, STEEEEEEEEEEEEEELERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! HEEEEEEERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

And then I remembered why I don’t go to sports bars. It’s because I hate people. And this guy was the poster boy for why. He looked a bit like Mickey Rourke, in that he had broad shoulders and sported a leathery, worn-out punching bag of a face. He had long silvery hair, with a cap on backward and a Steelers jersey. And he sounded exactly like Tommy from The Karate Kid… so much so, that I wanted to go over and ask him to say “Get him a body bag! Yeahhhhhhhhhh!” But I didn’t… I figured there was about a 90% chance of him saying it on his own if Adrian Peterson went down.

“Um, waitress?” I had a tough time flagging her down at first, since she had me pegged as Cheap N’ Sober Coffee Guy. I finally got her attention, and ordered a beer. I’d need something to soften the blow of Steeler Guy’s screams.

[By the way, I’m no chemist, but I’m pretty sure if you took a gallon of vodka, mixed it with a cold, hours-old, microwaved pizza, let it sit for nine hours, add really shitty hot coffee, and then poured beer over it, it would burn a hole in an aluminum can. My stomach is no controlled lab setting, but I can report some initial findings that confirm this.]

Anyway, Steeler Guy was boisterous early and often… and he wasn’t even like those pain in the ass Boston fans, who at least throw a few creative zingers out once in a while. The best Steelers Guy could only come up with was “Yeah!” “Let’s Go Stee-lers!” and my favorite, “Give it to All Day Long Mendenhall!!!!”, a reference, presumably, to AP’s nickname of “All Day.” It was a clever deviation, admittedly, though I’m not sure everyone got his clever play on words.

Thankfully, Minnesota started getting in a rhythm and moving the football. Thank god, I thought… that should shut him up.

Bu then: “YEAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, BABY!! KICK THOSE STEEELERS’ ASS, BRETT!!”

Oh no.

There he was: Head-Shaved Overweight Vikings Dude, sitting no less than ten feet from Steelers Guy. This couldn’t possibly end well, could it? Head-Shaved Overweight Vikings Dude was ratcheting up his cheering, and I watched Steelers Guy turn and move his seat so he could be closer to it.

I quickly looked to the “rules and regulations” on the back of the Beer Hunter menu. Let’s see… you were not allowed to taunt other teams’ fans and there was no chest bumping. Nothing about simple drunken yelling. This was a sports bar, after all.

Damn.

I headed to the bathroom – I’m not sure if I had to go or not. I just needed the momentary peace and quiet.

No such luck.

For their patrons’ enjoyment, The Beer Hunter tapes a copy of the LA Times’ sports pages to the wall of the urinal. The guy next to me was reading intently. I know this, of course, because he was reading aloud… at about a second grade level.

“Ti-tans couch Jeff Feesher was crit… crit… crit-uh-sized for ay-tending a ree-cent event for wearing a Pee-ton Manning jer-sey…”

I tried clicking my heels three times, but when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t home. I was still next to C’mon-You-Can-Do-It-Just-Sound-It-Out News Guy. “Pssssh… he wishes he had Peyton Manning as his quarterback.” I’m not sure if he was saying that to me or himself – either way, I made a beeline for the sink, washed my hands and headed for the door. I’m not even sure if I was done pissing or not.

It was a tough morning as the coffee and beer swirled and gurgled in my stomach, and Steelers Guy’s & Head-Shaved Overweight Vikings Dude’s alternating rants swirled and gurgled in my head. The worst part of it was that I was rooting for the Steelers, since I was starting Ben Roethlisberger and Hines Ward. But Steeler Guy got to me… I felt compelled to switch allegiances and root for the Vikings just so he could leave the bar with his tail between his legs. And in doing so, I’m almost positive it ruined my mojo and destroyed Ben and Hines for the day. After all, what else could explain a measly 175 passing yards, let alone one catch for six? (Not to mention the fact that the Steelers still won the freaking game)

Coming to this place ruined my chances for a much-needed victory and increased the possibility for either a “How to Blow Up Your Team” article and/or a No Mas letter to my league commissioner (update: draft v1 now complete).

If I’d been home, I would’ve won in a walk. I’m convinced of it.

But at least I got to spend a fun morning with friends. And that’s what all this is all about, right?

Right?

Anyone?

Bueller?

****

A few additional observations from the weekend that was…

As a follow-up to last week, the dreadfuller get even more full o’ dread. Of the eight teams I listed in last week’s column (Titans, Rams, Buccaneers, Browns, Chiefs, Lions, Raiders and Redskins), six played (Detroit and Tenn were on BYE). They lost by a collective score of 183 to 23 (with no team scoring more than seven points).

183 to 23.

So, if you haven’t already, do yourself a favor and pursue these matchups in the weeks to come – pick up defenses that are playing them, no matter if they aren’t top-tier (I don’t want to give away my top add/drop for this week, but it rhymes with Lan Biego). Play RBs you normally would laugh at (Hi, Laurence Maroney… it’s been a while). Pick up a WR you might have given up on w few weeks back (Mr. Hester, I presume?). You won’t be sorry.

****

One of the hot rookie sleepers coming into the season was Shonn Greene of the New York Jets. The problem was his being third on the depth chart behind the everybody-thinks-he-sucks-but-he-just-keeps-coming-through Thomas Jones and Leon Washington.

Now, with Washington out for the season with a broken leg, Greene gets a chance to work behind an offensive line that’s helped Jets RBs rush for 300+ yards in back to back games. Greene had 144 yards and 2 TDs on Sunday – yes, it was against the Oakland Raiders, but still worth a look.

****

Speaking of rookie RBs who received a lot of praise before the season started, people are raving about Beanie Wells’ performance against the Giants on Sunday night (67 yards, 1 TD). On the plus side, Wells looks healthy, and possesses a promising mix of power and speed. People are saying he could eventually be a poor man’s Adrian Peterson.

However, he still fumbles a lot (including another against the NYG) – and you’ll never gain your coach’s confidence that way. So even though he might start to break out, he won’t start getting significant minutes (and tip the scales in his favor vs. Timmy Hightower) until he stops putting the ball on the ground.

****

Ok, so he got a little lucky, but I told you Hakeem Nicks was worth picking up (80 yards and a TD – his fourth straight game with a score). And if Mario Manningham keeps dropping balls (seven already this season – his sights clearly set on Braylon’s record), Hakeem will get more and more time on the field. He’s a future star for this team.

****

Wait one more week before you try to sell Miles Austin off – he’s got one more potential defense-shredding performance in him (against Seattle at home – sorry, Tom) before he falls back to earth.

Hard.

****

Ok, that’s it… I’m calling it. On November 26, time of death: 6pm (as of this writing). Farewell, Matt Forte. We hardly knew you.

****

Oh, and in case I had any doubt I was cursed this season: picked up Brian Westbrook this week after one of the other owners dropped him.

Three plays, 13 yards, one concussion.

The lesson, of course: NEVER PLAY FANTASY FOOTBALL.

(sigh)

Until next week…