Rank: First-Year Captain
Points: 7
Yards: 99
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Superbowl Bound or Ahh, Snap?

by Sean Patrick Rodriguez

Rematch or revenge?
That is the burning question this week in Indianapolis where the Indianapolis Colts will play host to the New York Jets in the AFC Championship January 24th at 3pm E.T. at Lucas Oil Field. The Jets, a number 5 seed, shocked the world and the favored San Diego Chargers with a 17-14 win at Qualcomm Stadium.

The host Chargers opened the scoring of their AFC Divisional playoff game in the second quarter with a 13 yard touchdown pass from QB Phillip Rivers to Kris Wilson with 12:17 to go to give the Chargers the lead. San Diego's defense stuffed New York, forcing the Jets to punt on its first four possessions.

Then the Jets defense seized the momentum and never let it go. Defensive pressure on Rivers resulted in 5 offensive miscues. The Chargers couldn't hold on to the ball, 2 interceptions and 3 fumbles and the second half was all Jets as they scored 17 unanswered points to put them up just enough to keep the Chargers at bay and squeeze out a 3 point victory. The NFL's best kicker this year, All-Pro kicker Nate Kaeding, 32 out of 35 for a scorching 91% success rate during the regular season, failed to convert on all 3 of his field goal attempts.

These factors combined to send the Jets back to Indianapolis for the AFC Championship Game. It will be a rematch of sorts. The then 14-0 Colts gave up their team pursuit of an undefeated season in the December 27th game with the Jets by pulling Peyton Manning and most of their key players in the second half of the game while leading 15-10. They wanted to rest injured players and prepare for the playoffs, trading perfection for a shot at a second Superbowl run and win. The Jets took advantage and won the game 29-15, giving them a boost to the playoffs and now they are the kids that will not leave the field.

Will the Jets, led by 3 Rookies, quarterback Mark Sanchez, running back Shonn Greene and Head Coach Rex Ryan, make the Colts regret their decision to not play and put New York out of playoff contention? Or, will the Colts play for revenge during this rematch and show the Jets what a full Indianapolis squad can do? Tune in next Sunday.

1. Chance Meeting

Audaces fortuna iuvat - Fortune favors the bold. (Virgil)

Aloysius Pumpernickel was his name and yes, he was fucking serious, especially when it came to his name. Everyone knew who he was but not many actually knew him. He was fast and light and either attached to your hip or sailing right by with a shit-eating grin. Most everyone called him Al or Nickel; if he liked you knew it, he would pull you off to the side and say, “you,… you can call me Ally.”

There was nothing really special about the guy that would impress you at first sight. He stood five foot eleven and appeared to weigh about 170 pounds solid. Not that that’s a bad thing, mind you. The one thing about Aloysius that greeted you was those peepers of his. Bright green eyes peered out from his average face and then, he didn’t seem so average, he stood out.

He had this sense of timing that was so righteous. Every day was a holiday. Within that anxious feeling of madness that propeled him on, was an understanding that this bright star would not burn long. Somewhere, at some time, this party would end and somebody left behind would have to clean up the mess and deal with the lost and lonely feeling of abandonment. Not a cheery forecast to say the least.

“Gentlemen are allowed to be tardy, but they must bring a token gift to appease,” Ally would say, “that way you have covered your ass.” He always had to be somewhere right now; he was always running late.

With Ally you learned to expect, ya know, the unexpected. One rule of thumb was to accept the inevitable. There were always chemicals involved. If he wasn’t chemically inconvenienced then he soon would be. Straight to Hell or as Dave used to say, “It’s a one-way ticket to an insane asylum…” to which Ally added; “With free transportation and free meds included.” Expect carnage ahead. The road will be littered with the bodies of those unable to keep pace. There are no prizes for second place. Thanks for trying out but not everybody can make the team.

What is it that propels one forward with the knowledge that fortunes could be lost, youth and health in constant jeopardy? Why does the moth fly into the light? Stupidity mostly, the fucking moth knows better but exercises poor judgment. Like the song says, “I might be going to Hell in a bucket baby, but at least I’m enjoying the ride.” The axiom of, ‘it’s the journey not the destination,” was always true. The ride, well, the ride was going to be bumpy whether you planned for it or not.

Hello Red, back again...

A funny thing happened on the way to the blogspot.
I got lost.
Greeting and salutations to all of those patient people out there.
Thanks for visiting this spot. If this is your first visit, take some time and look around.
If you have been here before, again, sorry for the inconsistency of my posts, but sometimes life gets in the way of life.
Dig it.

Tardy

"Mr Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicking off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs Jones was already snoring." Animal Farm, written by George Orwell, Copyright 1945, Estate of Eric Blair

chapter 6
"Sorry," the hotel clerk said, "we held the room for as long as possible, but when you failed to show, our policy here at the Rosemont Holiday Out, is to release the room to the general public." "I'm afraid that is all we can do for you at this time gentlemen, good day." Young Elvis was fit to be tied. "Are you fuckin kidding me?" he shouted, "I am 30 minutes late and you give my reservation to the first pachuli reeking, stoned out-of-his-mind, tie-dye wearing hippie that walks up to the counter," he added, "Bull-fucking-shit!" Red faced and spitting, Young Elvis screamed, "I demand to speak to a manager."

The immaculately dressed manager appeared and approached us with a slight smile. "May I help you gentlemen?" he said politely but apprehenively. Before Young Elvis could begin his venomous tirade again, I sofyly interjected, "Yes Sir, yes you can." Times like these require a tact, forethought and a subtlety that I neither possessed at the time, nor had the energy to fake. I choose a totally different method of attack, the bold-faced lie.

The hotel manager, an effeminate slight man of forty plus years, I deduced, was taken back some when I gently grabbed his elbow and led him aside. "One moment Sir, if you please," I wispered. "My associate is, well, somewhat agitated given the present situation. We are in need of a room and the clerk has been dismissive and rude which caused my associate to react poorly. Now I don't want to caution you but my friend is a man of some import, his dress and appearence aside and I don't want to cause any problems for you but..."

Five minutes later we were headed South again, this time toward the Holiday Out near Ohare Airport. Upon arriving the bellmen assisted us with our luggage and we were warmly greeted. A little too warm for Young E. The clerk smiled and said, "All apologies gentlemen, we only have a regular room available, all the suites are occupied. Will that be satifactory?" "Fine, fine," I replied, "that will be just fine." Our luggage was loaded on a cart and we were directed towards the elevators.

"What the fuck did you say to that guy back at the other hotel?" Young Elvis asked as he eyed me sheepishly, "What?" "I informed him that you were an especially important guest that required immediate service thats all," I said. The bellhop took us to our room let us in and opened the curtains. "If you need anything, let us know immediately," he said "no need to tip this time Mr. Capone, er I mean Mr. Flintstone," and with that he left. "Capone? Al Capone? What idiot would believe that crap?" I smiled and nodded in agreement. "Actually, I told the manager that you were Al Capone's grandson. Young Elvis looked at me and we both burst out laughing hysterically, no problem I thought, unless the Capone family found out we were using his name. But what were the odds of that happening?

Reports of my death have been false

Hola kittens,

All apologies. Really. Sometime the affairs of state must supercede the affairs of state. I will post the next chapter real soon, no shit. Thanks for your patience loyal readers. Check back for the new stuff.

peace
lazygato

VACATION

Hello All!!,

Stay tuned for more adventures of Young Elvis and the narrator. Between work and racing and cutting the lawn, my summer has been busy. More chapters to come soon!!