Man Hugs and Fist Pumps
"Wait a second, Pat. So you're telling me that I can man hug and/or trade any of my players whenever I see fit? Phenomenal! Three fist pumps for Denver! Oh yeah, I promise we'll beat the Patriots, too."
Man hugs and fist pumps dominated my life over the past two weeks.
Yesterday, I returned from a thirteen-day cross-country road trip that culminated in a college reunion (a “brounion”) two weekends ago in central New York. It was a weekend of debauchery. It was a weekend of memories. It was a weekend of man hugs and fist pumps.
Sunday October 4th was a particularly special day. I left the alma mater by noon in order to reach my brother’s college in southern Connecticut by 4:15 PM. I had agreed to meet my brother, a senior who I fondly refer to as “Siesta,” at his house to watch the Broncos take on the Cowboys. In retrospect, I was more excited about viewing Broncos-Cowboys with my biological brother than taking part in the aforementioned “brounion.”
Confidence surged through my body as I navigated my Colorado sports wagon through the rolling hills of the New York State Thruway. The Broncos could not and would not lose. America’s Team received a generous three-points from Vegas earlier in the week. My faith in the Broncos convinced me that this line read, “Free Money.” I bet accordingly. Though the visiting Cowboys were favored, Vegas opened the line at only -2.5 to entice gamblers to bet against the Broncos. Bookmakers wanted gamblers to lose by betting against the home team. Vegas secretly believed in the Broncos. I had boisterously believed in the team since April (see past columns, please), so I gladly put my money where my mouth, head, and heart have been since the draft.
Kyle Orton’s game-winning touchdown pass to Brandon Marshall was something to behold. The intentionality of Orton’s throw remains dubious; he clearly under threw the pass. Marshall however came to Orton’s rescue by making a freakishly athletic move on the ball and snatching a possible interception away from Terrence Newman. The Beast’s athleticism remained on display as he throttled the Dallas defense by laterally cutting his way 51 yards to the endzone. The end result: victory, a triumphant McDaniels fist pump, multiple sideline man hugs, and one touching yet awkward McDaniels-Marshall man hug that disrupted the coach’s post-game news conference.
Cube sez, "McDanielzzz messed around against the 'Boyz and Patz and got a triple-double...of fist pumps and man hugs. And the Lakers beat the Supersonics."
In the immortal words of Ice Cube, “It was a good day.” The Goodyear blimp over Denver read, “Josh McDanielzzz a pimp.”
Siesta and I celebrated the comeback victory and our successful gambling ventures with…more gambling. I convinced Siesta to write his American History paper in the car, and the Mile High twosome did a Kansas City shuffle up I-95 to the Foxwoods Resort Casino.
Six Red Bulls and several hundred swear words later, Siesta and I emerged from the MGM Grand at daybreak. I went on a blackjack tear while simultaneously back-betting my way to $275 in winnings. Siesta was even more of a force to be reckoned with. He went Brandon Marshall on every dealer he faced. Case and point: we decided to head home after he won five high-roller hands ($50 minimum bet per hand) in a row.
It continued to be a good day as we exited the casino floor to cash in our chips. More victory, man hugs, and fist pumps.
Siesta had a 9 AM class on Monday, so I departed Connecticut on a caffeine binge after a brief, fitful nap. My spirits soared as I approached New York City. In an Upper East Side apartment, my buddy Berry awaited my arrival, as well as our ensuing man hug and the eventual trip downtown to watch Packers-Vikings.
The buffalo wings at The Wharf on 38th Street were as sizzling and succulent as Brett Favre’s Monday night performance. On the other hand, the Packers’ offensive line is worse than Dealin’ Doug’s sense of style, his TV advertising campaign, and his car financing plans…combined. In fact, I would rather be Dealin’ Doug than Aaron Rodgers. At least, I would a) never have to fight for an overly jeweled ring because I would wear ten everyday and b) nobody would beat me, nobody! Wait, my previous statement is false. I went too far. I would rather be an abandoned alley cat or even a blade of grass than Dealin’ Doug. Nevertheless, Rodgers’ line owes him a Rolex (or five) this time around.
Ok, so maybe I'd rather get sacked by Jared Allen than live even one day in the life of the quaff-haired man in the clown suit. Here's to you (and your Superman cape), Dealin' Doug!
After a one-day pitt-stop in Pittsburgh, I was off to Chicago for my college roommate’s sister’s wedding. I expected to witness many post-nuptial man hugs and dance floor fist pumps. Man hugs and fine scotch was abundant, but the reception lacked fist pumps.
The trip to Chicago offered two much anticipated experiences: my first wedding and a chance to watch Sunday’s Broncos-Patriots showdown with Bears fans in JC’s new city. (No, I’m not referring to Colorado Springs or Salt Lake City).
Denver sports carried on in a dramatic fashion during the five days I was in Chicago. The Avalanche lost a shootout heartbreaker to the Blackhawks at the United Center, Rocktober commenced and prematurely terminated, and the Nuggets played the Pacers in Taipei. Most importantly, the Broncos won their biggest game since beating the Patriots in the 2005-2006 divisional playoffs. Sunday’s victory produced some of the most epic man hugs and fist pumps in NFL regular season history.
Some notes on the whirlwind events of the past week…
- Bernie the St. Bernard is officially the cat’s pajamas. The Avalanche needed a new mascot for the post-Sakic era. Howler was dated, and he (?) resembled an overgrown, harrier version of Doc Emmet Brown circa “Back to the Future 3.” So creepy. Plus, the Phoenix Coyotes, who challenge the Raiders for the title of most laughable professional sports franchise, also have a mascot named “Howler.”
Howler.
First Matt Duchene, and now Bernie. Way to go, front office! You guys are on fire right now. Now, if you could only lead a coup d’etat that unseats Commissioner Bettman and revives “home whites,” I might stop being bitter and start loving NHL hockey again. Let Bernie lead the charge…
- I have little to say about the Rockies at this point. It is too soon, and I am too fragile to comment at length on this subject. But let me emphasize this: Jim Tracy is the right manager for the Rockies. The franchise should absolutely re-sign him. That said, Tracy micro-managed the Rockies out of the playoffs.
Seth Smith and Ian Stewart deserved more playing time during the Wild Card series. The Rockies needed these two players in the starting lineup.
Jayson Werth is nearly speechless after winning Most Perverse Facial Hair of the Year.
Tracy set his lineup around lefty-righty match-ups. I understand the significance of these match-ups, but Tracy overemphasized their importance. I know infinitely less about baseball than Jim Tracy. Yet, anyone who watched the Rockies knows that Seth Smith and Ian Stewart’s bats carried the Rockies into the playoffs. The team sorely missed their offense against Philadelphia. Though Spilborghs constantly delivered when called upon during the team’s stretch run and Atkins played well against the Phillies, these two players had not received consistent playing time all season. They were cold, and not as a result of the weather.
Suffice to say, removing Smith and Stewart from the starting lineup did not actively help the Rockies. Neither did leaving Huston “The Phillies really scare me” Street in the game to face Jayson “I look like a porn star from Indianapolis and live to destroy the Rockies” Werth.
- Hopefully the Rockies will finally ditch Dinger in response to the Avalanche’s new, superior mascot, Bernie. The Rockies should adopt a mountain dwelling creature as a mascot, and name it Elbert. An elk (Elbert the Elk has a particularly nice ring to it), a black bear, a pika, or a skunk would fit in perfectly at Coors Field. The skunk would backfire if the Rockies stink, but the color scheme works. If the Rockies decline to retain Brad Hawpe, the franchise should hire Les Stroud (aka Survivorman) to inhabit the wooded area behind center field and run around the stadium on gamedays in a purple and black loincloth. Anything but Dinger, please.
Bernie is the best thing to come out of Colorado since Jessica Biel's birth.
- Matt Prater’s leg is as strong as it is inaccurate. His performance against Cleveland three weeks ago was deplorable (2 misses inside 39 yards). Watching Prater miss on Sunday during the game’s opening drive racked my nerves for the remainder of the contest. The miss was so irritating. I imagine this moment was as aggravating as the following hypothetical situation: one returns to school as an alumnus only to learn that one’s ex-girlfriend now sleeps with an impish underclassman who gels his hair. I become woozy every time Prater sets up for an extra point. The boat ride to Whore Island has to be similarly nauseating.
- The 2009 Broncos continue to mysteriously mimic the 2001 Patriots. Like Brady ’01, Orton finally demonstrated his command of the offense in Week 5. Orton went 35 of 48 for 330 yards, 2 TDs, 1 INT, and put his full range of talents on display while engineering game-tying drive late in the fourth quarter. Brady ’01 went 33 of 54 for 364 yards, 2 TDs, and orchestrated an impressive last-minute game-tying drive. The Broncos won 20-17 in OT on a 41-yard field goal, and the ’01 Patriots won 29-26 in OT on a 44-yard field goal.
Not to mention the Broncos’ defense fires on all cylinders like a well-oiled, turbocharged sports wagon engine (so ‘Rado). This is a competent and well-coached unit. McDaniels understands that defense is not about having proven stars in the front seven. Rather, a defense succeeds by loading the front seven with capable athletes, who will always be in the right place at the right time. Sometimes a defensive player who tries to overextend himself and go for the flailing, big hit (i.e. Ian Gold) can be as destructive to a defensive unit as a player who takes plays off (i.e. Gerrard Warren). Who just had a 2006 Broncos’ defense flashback? Out, out damn spot!
- Josh McDaniels flat out knows how to motivate and coach his players. He has ensured that excuses are like inflated egos; no one on his sideline has one.
- The NFL trade deadline is Tuesday at 2 PM Mountain Time. Though the Broncos look like a solid team at the moment, depth never goes too far. The Broncos’ most glaring need is on special teams, specifically at kick and punt returner. Kenny McKinley and Alphonso Smith are too raw to return kicks and punts for a playoff caliber team; limiting fumbles and securing favorable field position are paramount to the Broncos’ success. Additionally, Eddie Royal’s health is too valuable to the Broncos’ offense for him to constantly sacrifice his body on punt returns, which is one of the game’s most dangerous situations.
Josh Cribbs is an intriguing trade target. Cribbs, a top-three kick/punt returner (16.25 yards per PR and 26.1 yards per KR), is currently unhappy in Cleveland (who would not be?). At 6’1” and 215 pounds, he is also a capable, big-bodied wide receiver, and he possesses some knowledge of the Belichickian offensive system due to the time he has served under Warden Mangini.
- Three types of prescription drug companies advertise on television: cholesterol medications, erectile dysfunction pills, and anti-depressants. Who says America is not in great shape? Ah yes, people who are right about things.
It's official: Jay Cutler wants to look exactly like Alec Baldwin. The Bears QB should have no trouble packing on the extra, old-man weight, considering he loves sausage. P.S. Is Cutler wearing eye shadow in this photo? Little Ms. Maybelline loves Michigan Ave.
- After consuming the Chicago diet for the better part of a week one thing came to my attention: Josh McDaniels played a hilariously cruel joke on Jay Cutler by sending him to the Bears. Chicagoans subsist on four extremely unhealthy things: Chicago-style pizzas (over-stuffed, deep-dish meat and cheese pies that we should regard as dessert), sausage, Italian beef sandwiches, and Old Style beer. Cutler is not a slim man. He is going to retire as one hefty bear. Someone should send him some Lipitor (and Enzyte) today. Say, when does bear hunting season kick off in 2019?
- JR Smith gave Chauncey Billups the number 1 for the upcoming season. The embattled 24 year-old shooting guard will wear number 5 this year. Rumor has it that JR agreed to the swap because he owed Chauncey a favor after the Thrill From Park Hill drove him home from jail this summer.
The Broncos are once again 3.5 point underdogs. Denver, do yourself a favor and cash in on this game…and start Knowshon in your fantasy league. The Chargers are ranked 27th against the run, as Shawne Merriman is a decrepit shell of his former self. Merriman is living proof that steroids and bi-sexual, reality TV hussies can break even the strongest of men. Broncos 23, Chargers 17, 2 McDaniels sideline tirades, 3 man hugs, and 1 post-game fist pump.
Lights out, Shawne!
I leave you with some of the greatest man hugs and fist pumps of all time…
