Hammock Parties
12-11-2008, 06:33 PM
The internet is a strange mistress.
http://theshiver.com/2008/12/herm-edwards-fails-and-failing-tyler-thigpens-mancrush-on-bill-cowher-and-the-rest-of-the-disaster/
Its early in the morning on November 30th when Herm Edwards awakes from his slumbers and begins brewing a big pot of FAIL. He’s in the Bay Area of California, the air is crisp, the sun is shining across freshly dew grazed urban streets revealing the sheen of a city sometimes painted with dismal gradients, and in the midst of it all, there is simplicity. That’s right, the simplicity of running a team with a mere one September win is now as fruitful as the grapes that line the valleys on the city’s outer-edges.
Back in Kansas City, Chiefs’ fan and father of two, Jimmy Burrough, recognizes the simplicity but also grasp the sheer intensity: Its Raiders versus Chiefs. Its history. Its brazen and bold. Its Bo Jackson spinning and churning and dodging love-fueled-wrath-laden-baseballs on the field; Its Okoye’s payload inspired-push through a defensive set that more resembles the chaos of an LA traffic disaster during rush hour than it does an NFL squad’s rehearsed strategy. Its Raiders versus Chiefs. And in a year that has yielded a week-by-week revelation of all things pitiful, the day of salvation had finally arrived for all those associated with the Chiefs organization to take salvation in.
“This morning, instead of sitting along side my two sons and watching NFL pregame until our heads were spinning, we hit up a mock draft site on the Internet. We saw a vision of promise. A standard of achievement. It was something to root for.” Burrough told us, massaging his red Chief’s Beer cousy.
It was this simplicity, this last hope making Kansas City’s excuse for an NFL team worth watching. The draft. You don’t have to tell those people in Detroit about fighting for Draft positioning, they already know. And they also know how complicated, as opposed to simple, it can be.
When Herm Edwards arrives to McAfee Coliseum, the atmosphere in the locker room seems that of consistent with Sunday’s past, something that Edwards hopes plays in his favor on this Sunday Afternoon. Larry Johnson is on the locker room’s communal PC, he’s updating his Facebook status to ‘Larry Johnson is playin beotch,’ knowing that Herm will likely see it when he logs onto his Facebook. Edwards takes pride in his team’s more modern styles of communication, he doesn’t contend its orthodox. Glenn Dorsey sits shyly in the back, waiting for his chance to get on Facebook and add some pictures he took of himself standing with Jamarcus Russell moments ago. He wanted to tag Jamarcus in his ‘West Side bros!’ picture folder. Like any other locker room in the NFL, the rookies have little pull. Dorsey may have to wait until half-time for his Facebook time.
Tyler Thigpen is not on Facebook. Instead, Tyler is day dreaming of the day a real change comes to Kansas City. He is staring blankly at a picture of Len Dawson, Dawson’s arm cocked, ready to fire that big touchdown throw. He dreams of what it would be like if Bill Cowher came to Kansas City. Tyler has been obsessed with Coach Cowher all season, writing him numerous letters, all of which include pictures of Kansas City’s finer homes, restaurants, and even this chick that bartends down in Westport that is said to be ‘really infatuated with Chiefs players and coaches.’ Tyler stresses the coaches part. If Coach were to come, what would be different? How things change?
First, Tyler says they’d go have some lunch at Arthur Bryants.
http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_1.jpg (http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_1.jpg)
Tyler can’t help but think, “Coach, just move to Kansas City. I know of this killer job you could get. We’d eat ribs all the time!”
Next, he’d take coach out for an afternoon at Worlds of Fun.
http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_2.jpg (http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_2.jpg)
Visions of Coach and Tyler framed intensely in one of those amusement park pictures, hands to the heavens, like champions of the great NFL hope, dance in Tyler’s head.
Then Tyler would take coach out to see the famous Plaza lights, sans the American Idol kid.
http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_3.jpg (http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_3.jpg)
In wrapping up, the pair would go gaze at the fountain.
http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_4.jpg (http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_4.jpg)
And then Tyler is awakened to the sound of Herm’s muddled voice, “Larry, how do I pimp my Facebook profile??” And then Tyler remembers that Kansas City sucks again. Except the Barbecue. The barbecue does not suck. But losing does suck.
The locker room is a prison of futility. Edwards knows that, but as he takes another sip of his FAIL, he doesn’t realize that he has grossly underestimated his opponent.
On the other side of the field, their longtime rival isn’t hooking up with chicks on Facebook. Instead, team owner and longtime futility navigator, Al Davis, is on a phone call with longtime Clippers GM, Elgin Baylor.
“It happens Al. These days, they happen. You have to do what it is that you do best. You can’t lose hope. I believe in you. The Clippers believe in you. Your legacy believes in you.” Baylor tells Davis as Davis separates some pills on his desk, hoping he just swallowed a Vasotec rather than a Viagra. All the same, one-way or the other, Davis knows he will be excited within a couple of hours. That’s because the game is set to begin, and NFL draft picks are on the line, and also because Davis is becoming increasingly convinced that he took a Viagra.
Edwards has managed only one win all year, but he has little idea of what he is up against this lowly afternoon. He doesn’t respect the ability Al Davis’ possesses when it comes to stripping any and all things positive out of a teams arsenal. Davis doesn’t just do this with his locker room, but his front office and even the fans. Edwards is out of his league, and three hours later, when the Chiefs suddenly began clicking on all cylinders, he found this out.
“I thought our chances of losing were great. It just got away from us at the end of the game, players started trying and my defensive coaching staff, by no fault of their own, produced results. Things happen sometimes.” Edwards would later say after the game.
The next week, The Chiefs lost to Denver, blowing the game in the fourth quarter. But that loss went little in the way for Jimmy Burroughs explaining the Raiders game to his sons.
“Herm failed at failing. That’s what I told them. That was the only way I knew how to explain what we witnessed.“
http://theshiver.com/2008/12/herm-edwards-fails-and-failing-tyler-thigpens-mancrush-on-bill-cowher-and-the-rest-of-the-disaster/
Its early in the morning on November 30th when Herm Edwards awakes from his slumbers and begins brewing a big pot of FAIL. He’s in the Bay Area of California, the air is crisp, the sun is shining across freshly dew grazed urban streets revealing the sheen of a city sometimes painted with dismal gradients, and in the midst of it all, there is simplicity. That’s right, the simplicity of running a team with a mere one September win is now as fruitful as the grapes that line the valleys on the city’s outer-edges.
Back in Kansas City, Chiefs’ fan and father of two, Jimmy Burrough, recognizes the simplicity but also grasp the sheer intensity: Its Raiders versus Chiefs. Its history. Its brazen and bold. Its Bo Jackson spinning and churning and dodging love-fueled-wrath-laden-baseballs on the field; Its Okoye’s payload inspired-push through a defensive set that more resembles the chaos of an LA traffic disaster during rush hour than it does an NFL squad’s rehearsed strategy. Its Raiders versus Chiefs. And in a year that has yielded a week-by-week revelation of all things pitiful, the day of salvation had finally arrived for all those associated with the Chiefs organization to take salvation in.
“This morning, instead of sitting along side my two sons and watching NFL pregame until our heads were spinning, we hit up a mock draft site on the Internet. We saw a vision of promise. A standard of achievement. It was something to root for.” Burrough told us, massaging his red Chief’s Beer cousy.
It was this simplicity, this last hope making Kansas City’s excuse for an NFL team worth watching. The draft. You don’t have to tell those people in Detroit about fighting for Draft positioning, they already know. And they also know how complicated, as opposed to simple, it can be.
When Herm Edwards arrives to McAfee Coliseum, the atmosphere in the locker room seems that of consistent with Sunday’s past, something that Edwards hopes plays in his favor on this Sunday Afternoon. Larry Johnson is on the locker room’s communal PC, he’s updating his Facebook status to ‘Larry Johnson is playin beotch,’ knowing that Herm will likely see it when he logs onto his Facebook. Edwards takes pride in his team’s more modern styles of communication, he doesn’t contend its orthodox. Glenn Dorsey sits shyly in the back, waiting for his chance to get on Facebook and add some pictures he took of himself standing with Jamarcus Russell moments ago. He wanted to tag Jamarcus in his ‘West Side bros!’ picture folder. Like any other locker room in the NFL, the rookies have little pull. Dorsey may have to wait until half-time for his Facebook time.
Tyler Thigpen is not on Facebook. Instead, Tyler is day dreaming of the day a real change comes to Kansas City. He is staring blankly at a picture of Len Dawson, Dawson’s arm cocked, ready to fire that big touchdown throw. He dreams of what it would be like if Bill Cowher came to Kansas City. Tyler has been obsessed with Coach Cowher all season, writing him numerous letters, all of which include pictures of Kansas City’s finer homes, restaurants, and even this chick that bartends down in Westport that is said to be ‘really infatuated with Chiefs players and coaches.’ Tyler stresses the coaches part. If Coach were to come, what would be different? How things change?
First, Tyler says they’d go have some lunch at Arthur Bryants.
http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_1.jpg (http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_1.jpg)
Tyler can’t help but think, “Coach, just move to Kansas City. I know of this killer job you could get. We’d eat ribs all the time!”
Next, he’d take coach out for an afternoon at Worlds of Fun.
http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_2.jpg (http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_2.jpg)
Visions of Coach and Tyler framed intensely in one of those amusement park pictures, hands to the heavens, like champions of the great NFL hope, dance in Tyler’s head.
Then Tyler would take coach out to see the famous Plaza lights, sans the American Idol kid.
http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_3.jpg (http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_3.jpg)
In wrapping up, the pair would go gaze at the fountain.
http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_4.jpg (http://theshiver.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/page_4.jpg)
And then Tyler is awakened to the sound of Herm’s muddled voice, “Larry, how do I pimp my Facebook profile??” And then Tyler remembers that Kansas City sucks again. Except the Barbecue. The barbecue does not suck. But losing does suck.
The locker room is a prison of futility. Edwards knows that, but as he takes another sip of his FAIL, he doesn’t realize that he has grossly underestimated his opponent.
On the other side of the field, their longtime rival isn’t hooking up with chicks on Facebook. Instead, team owner and longtime futility navigator, Al Davis, is on a phone call with longtime Clippers GM, Elgin Baylor.
“It happens Al. These days, they happen. You have to do what it is that you do best. You can’t lose hope. I believe in you. The Clippers believe in you. Your legacy believes in you.” Baylor tells Davis as Davis separates some pills on his desk, hoping he just swallowed a Vasotec rather than a Viagra. All the same, one-way or the other, Davis knows he will be excited within a couple of hours. That’s because the game is set to begin, and NFL draft picks are on the line, and also because Davis is becoming increasingly convinced that he took a Viagra.
Edwards has managed only one win all year, but he has little idea of what he is up against this lowly afternoon. He doesn’t respect the ability Al Davis’ possesses when it comes to stripping any and all things positive out of a teams arsenal. Davis doesn’t just do this with his locker room, but his front office and even the fans. Edwards is out of his league, and three hours later, when the Chiefs suddenly began clicking on all cylinders, he found this out.
“I thought our chances of losing were great. It just got away from us at the end of the game, players started trying and my defensive coaching staff, by no fault of their own, produced results. Things happen sometimes.” Edwards would later say after the game.
The next week, The Chiefs lost to Denver, blowing the game in the fourth quarter. But that loss went little in the way for Jimmy Burroughs explaining the Raiders game to his sons.
“Herm failed at failing. That’s what I told them. That was the only way I knew how to explain what we witnessed.“