Tradition Tuesday: Scoping the Choncosphere: 5-13-2008

Sometime around the turn of the millenium, we started The Tradition. Cecil and Old No. 7, ever-basking in the orange sunsets of John Elway and back-to-back championships make an annual pilgrimage out to the Truman Sports Complex to view their Broncos at One Arrowhead Drive, and I, often hopeful of a red-and-gold Lombardi day, meander out to the Rocky Mountains to watch the Chiefs play football at Invesco Field at Mile High Stadium. We mainline spirits in the form of Pabst Blue Ribbon, consume smoked meats in Last Supper fashion, and run our mouth to just about anyone that will listen. Occasionally we invite the wives, 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 going with Tradition Tuesday--a weekly state-of-the-rivalry address.

The wife and I had our one-year anniversary yesterday. Not only was I suckered into a pre-anniversary, Bed-and-Breakfast-style weekend getaway, I somehow agreed to a nice evening of tapas, smashed-grape beverages, and gift exchanges on the evening of. It was something. Today, however, I've sent her back into the work force, and re-affirmed her non-existent beliefs that pounding on a keyboard in the basement will someday translate to all the mixed nuts we can eat, and a life of blissful joy thereafter. Me one, wife zero.

For the briefest of moments last night, though, I convinced my wife to pop into the venue that boasts the worst name in restaurant history, otherwise known as Jared Allen's Sports Arena & Grill. I'm fairly certain that all six people at the bar, besides us, were employees, and upon questioning, our lovely bartender told us that Mondays are always slow, and, not to worry, business is still good. (Editor's Note: I heard from two different sources this morning that it's slated to close this week.) During our lengthy 16-minute stay in the building, I enjoyed a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, while the wife consumed a nine-dollar, 164-ounce concoction called "The Punter." It contains Smirnoff Lime, strawberry vodka, triple sec, cranberry juice, sour mix, and Sprite. The vessel in which this drink -- which, by the way, I have a hunch that "punter" was meant to be interpreted as "pussy" -- is served is akin to an oak barrel in volume, and might as well come with a tap on the side, so as to make for spout flowage straight into the gullet. And then we left.

Other noted specialties on the drink menu, however, include the "Any Given Sunday," the "Dirty Bird," "Jared Juice," the "Bronco Buster" (Smirnoff Blueberry, Three Olives Grape, DeKuyper Island Blue Pucker, sour mix, and Sprite), the "Sea of Red," the "Packer Attacker," and the "Raider Hater." Then, in case the number of nifty-named drinks aided in some memory lapse, the theme of the evening is printed on the back: "Wine 'em, dine 'em, 69 'em." The place totally rocks the Casbah. And by "Casbah," I mean nunnery. Because this stuff is too good to pass up, I'll list some regular-menu items, too. In the "First Down" category, there's "Gunny's Nachos," "Boomer's Boomers," "Swing Batta-Batta Sticks," "Head-first Sliders," and my personal favorite "'Broncos Line is Soft'-Pretzels."

If a diner's in the mood for light fare, he or she can select from the "Training Camp" section. Among others, it offers a "Caesar Chavez," a "Protect This House Salad," and a "Fiesta Bowl." Anyone craving poultry can opt for something from "Mangino's Big Chicken Breasts." A few selections there include: "Fried-ay Night Lighs" -- chicken tenders -- "The Italian Job," and another gratuitous kicker shot in the form of "Colquitt Chicken." Over in "D.T.'s Deli," options range from the "Wrigley Field Reuben" to the "Allentown Pork Tenderloin" to the sundry "Bring it to the House Hoagies." Other amazing category names include "Dick's Dogs," "Pop-Warner League," and "Post-Game Party."

I'll just say that if the person behind that verbage is still alive, it is a cryin', freaking shame.

Elsewhere in Traditon-related news, though, the non-soft line of the Denver Broncos likes cocaine, but not enough to take ownership over it. Shocker.

The boys over at Bronco Talk have a couple of clips I can't seem to embed. But check them out. There's some great footage of the wirier, less-tanned Rat speaking to the media.

And apparently, Rat, Jr.'s sister went to college with Jenna Bush, or something like that.

Chris over at Arrowhead Pride has a good piece on new Chiefs tackle Ken Shackleford. That's a pretty great name. I mean it's no Kory Lichtensteiger, but pretty close.

Matt over at Broncos Gab worked really hard to put together this post about Horse-Faced Colts Draft and The Great One going into business together again. Professional Bull Riders Tour? Really?

Chris at KC Chiefs Fanatic also has a clip I can't embed. It's a highlight reel of Chiefs' new safety, DaJuan Morgan. Morgan comes to Kansas City from North Carolina State, and was the Chiefs' third third-round pick in last month's draft. Kid looks pretty good.

Predominantly Orange is, uh, still there.

And finally, Jonathan Rand has some thoughts on our good ol' AFC West over at Chiefs.com.

That's it for this week. Be sure to stop in to Jared Allen's joint before it closes. I hear a glass of "Playoff Juice" goes real well with the "Rock Chalk Pork Chops." Good times. Good eats. Awful Names.