Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Tradition Tuesday: Slackin'


Editor's Note: The rough focus of this blog is the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs (represented by Bankmeister) and the Denver Broncos (championed by Cecil and Old No. 7). It may seem unfair that it's two vs. one, but once KC gets that second Super Bowl we'll even out the delegation.


Seven years ago we started The Tradition, in which the Broncos fans traveled out to the Truman Sports Complex with their team, and the Chef-lovers returned to the Rocky Mountains with theirs. We tailgate, we talk massive amounts of shit, our wives occasionally get assaulted by rival fans, and we almost always watch the visiting team lose. It's a grand old time.


Here at the HoG, we're going to keep The Tradition alive all year long with Tradition Tuesday--a weekly state-of-the-rivalry address.

I am, at heart, a tremendous slacker. I work as little as I can get away with, at everything. My career is solid enough, if only because I’ve kept the expectations artificially low. My marriage gets by, mostly due to my incredible prowess between the sheets. I’m a little fat, a little out of shape, and not really good at anything except kicking ass and chewing gum. And I’m just about out of gum.

For most of my life, though, I’ve been a really awesome sports fan. I’ve tackled this hobby with single-minded determination and focus. I’ve memorized stats and crafted compelling arguments with which I can shoot down shitty arguments. That talent and drive is part of why this very blog exists, and why you my fan love me more than almost anything in the world.

But there is a disturbance in the force. This business that I’ve started, the business that allowed me to take my slack-ass tendencies to new and previously unseen heights, has improbably become very successful. That’s ostensibly great, because someday I might pull some cash out of it, cash I can spend on a variety of wasteful leisure activities. This is why one works, so as to eventually not work.

But in the meantime, the increased volume of my day job has become a tremendous pain in my fucking butt. It’s cut seriously into my baseball-watching time, and my hours of daily fantasy team management and blog-reading. No longer are afternoons spent on the golf course, or in the hash den, or banging your mom. I’m working, and it truly sucks.

The biggest losers, of course, are you my readers. I’ve deprived you of the wave of greatness you’ve come to expect/demand. For instance, the New York Yankees are in last place and I’ve yet to address it. Noted drunk driver Tony LaRussa has been running teams full of pot-smokers, needle-punchers and winos for years, and one just endangered the lives of many before eating it. That needs to be addressed. And the upcoming NFL season is replete with potential Bloach-On-Bloach crime, a subject ignored by all of the medias and mediums.

But I’ve got no time, and the children suffer. Think of the fucking children.

Anyway, today is Tradition Tuesday, not Oprah’s Bitch Club. I’d really like to carve the living hell out of the rosters of the AFC West. I could dry-hump (cyber-speaking, of course) the Raiders and their mangling of the No. 1 pick, and why they’ll lick balls for years. I could break down the entire miserable offseason of the San Diego Stupor Chargers, detailing their inevitable collapse at the hand of Norv. And I could go through the winter makeovers of our beloved Broncos and despised Chiefs, roster spot by roster spot, and see how the draft and free agency have treated the teams of The Tradition. But that would take actual research and preparation, and I don’t have time.

What I can do is transmit my lazy self from the rest of my life to my position as Slacker Emeritus here at the HoG. That’s right, kids, I’m officially mailing one in. Hell, I’ve already written nine-tenths of this bitch and I haven’t said a damn thing.

Last week in this space we had a logical juxtaposition of the two SEC-reared QBs who may someday steer the ships of KC and Denver. One tiny problem I have with that reasoning is that KC’s representation in said twosome is Brody Croyle, and Brody Croyle is not an NFL quarterback. He’s a backup, and an untested one at that. He’s less accomplished in the National Football League than Drew Henson or Ryan Leaf or Babe Laufenburg.

But to the Chiefs he’s a savior. That’s because they’ve completely mucked up the most important position on the field. Apparently the starter will be career backup Damon Huard. Longtime No. 1 Trent Green has been run out of town, only the Chefs have not even consummated a trade. Now that the draft is over, they’ll end up cutting Green and getting nothing. And finally there was a brief period of time when KC flirted with the idea of drafting Mr. Metrosexual, who was dropping down the first round like a stone.

My point is this: These are not the actions of a franchise that is confident in the quarterback position. You can win with a mediocre QB, so long as the other elements of your game are solid. But KC is going to war with a defense that is not dominant and a line that no longer scares anyone. At least they have some kickers.

Fear not, fans of the Tribe of Lamar…Old Number Seven has a solution. There exists out there a veteran QB who has won in the playoffs. He’s been to the Pro Bowl. He wouldn’t cost much, and he’s eminently available. He wears No. 16, but I’m sure no one would mind if Len Dawson gave it up—this dude is ten times better. Kansas City, here is your new QB:


1 comments:

Nathan said...

It will take the Chiefs four years to recognize that Croyle is a bust. By that time, LJ's legs will be gone and we'll be payin' him $15 million a year for 5 more years.

Sweet.