Tradition Tuesday: Rootin' Through the Landfill

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

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

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

Week one of the House of Georges' preseason looked nothing like Gary Coleman sandwiched between hoors with their drawers down; it ended with semi-predictable results. The nutshell: Denver's Jay Cutler and Travis Henry illustrated their ability to deliver mile-high success to the citizens of Bronco Country while residents of Chiefs Nation witnessed evidence of an ever-improving defense, and a frighteningly tough quarterback scenario. End results: Broncos save a victory by thwarting a late-game 49ers second-and-third-stringers effort while the Chiefs fumble away a chance to knock off the Browns in Cleveland.



Yep. Couple of doozies there. Sure. It's the preseason. You can always throw in that adage. But fractions of preseason games are always good indicators of what will happen once everyone starts logging regular-season time. I worked while both games occurred, thus wiping out any smidgeon of a chance of watching limiting my ability to view more than 10 plays from both games combined.

Thank Christ for the InterWebs. This and this are all the evidence I need to shatter my feigned optimism of dashing out of the season-opener gates with dreams of the post-season in mind. Mm-hmm. Reality has checked in, and it does in fact bite. Though I sift through these piles of garbage we call preseason contests with glimmering hopes of buried treasure, all the labels look similar. Over in this pile, Chiefs Nation invests its collective faith that Herman Edwards (Herman Edwards!) will make the right call in the quarterback department. In case you prefer pictures to words, allow me to summarize:



Right. I know. He's (Big Sherm, I mean Herm) a defensive-minded guy. The D looks fierce; I'm stoked about it. But on planet PlayToWinTheGame, you need a quarterback. Saturday night in Cleveland, Brodie Croyle fumbled (but recovered) and threw a pick while going 5-8 for 49 yards. The chosen one (that's Damon Huard, fyi) steps in, throws a pick and goes 2-4 for 19 yards. Together they achieved three, count 'em, three, first downs. Thus, the job of picking who'll be your starter just got say, I dunno, 100 times harder. What call do you make? Please don't say it, please don't say it, please don't say it. Fark. Casey Printers. That guy can totally right the ship. And by right the ship, I mean:



Dating back to the eighth post in HoG history (Editor's Note: Google pre-Jurassic if you're unsure as to when that was), I've been posting about Printers' suckdom. Shit. Even prior to the HoG's existence, I've been talking about it. (Note: I'm not really a racist. That frightening post was a rebuttal to Old No. Seven's absurdly racist slanders that white guys can't jump. Or catch a football.) Sure. You don't want Huard or Croyle hurt, so you pull 'em. This just in: Casey Printers will never even be a number-two quarterback in the NFL. Cut. No, not that meat. Him. Now.

So Herm's got his work cut out for him. Meanwhile, Shanny's boys mow down the competiton in his starters' lone possession. Sweet. That and a rusty nail on my toilet seat equal good freakin' times.

Looking ahead to this week, I can only hope Trent Green continues to suck and this guy learns remembers how to coach football. If those two things happen, maybe by this time next week, that treasure might rear its orange-peel-laden, coffee-ground-covered head.