30 hours. Why do they put Direct TV on a bus? Super Bowl XXV conveniently played while we rolled down 66 toward Union Station. The Giants in their highest glory, but the overhanging trees and multiple overpass bridges were enough to interrupt the signal every 10 seconds. By the time the ride was over I didn't know if I was more nauseous from the scrambled championship viewing or seeing Tyree's helmet catch for the 500th time.
29 hours. A rickety ass train ride was not nearly enough to detour the euker cards from being dealt. Euker is our new game of choice, it's almost like a white dude's version of spades. The game is played with a partner (Todd Yoder) against another pair of partners. (Suisham and Rabach) The basic story of the game is that euker passes shitty train riding time like a frenzied roller coaster. After all was said and done, me and Yod walked away with two extra per-diems.
24 hours. I'm fucking starving. This morning I weighed about two pounds more than I wanted and there is no way I'm gonna be a fat ass for week one. Fat acts as a break on the football field. Now I've tried to contain myself all day, avoiding all kinds of terrible traveling foods. I'm waiting for the team snack at 9. I could have went to dinner with my newly acquired euker money, but I would end up eating way too much. Yea, great self discipline.
23 hours. Team meeting. We go through the first 15 plays of the game. I was hoping for about 8 scheduled catches on that play list, I guess I'll leave the anticipation for what happens there. Film review for a half hour, more Super Bowl action. Then Zorn talks, he is ready to battle with us.
19 hours. Can't sleep. My TV is a piece of shit. I guess that's becoming a theme of the trip. Every five minutes it goes fuzzy and gets really loud, constantly ruffling the serenity of my night. I like to play this little game at night in the hotel where I try to fall asleep during the commercials. I'll watch whatever show is on then roll over during the ads. Every damn time I roll over the TV starts blasting static. Of course I could turn it off, but that's not part of the routine. So now I have to get out of bed every five minutes and beat some sense into it - pounding it three or four times on the sides seems really successful. Probably not good in the long run for the TV, but the weird thing is that the harder my fist hits the side the longer it functions normally. Whatever.
18 hours. TV off, I'm not very happy.
14 hours. Someone thought a wake up call at 5 would hilarious. Preliminary suspect: Clinton Portis. Who doesn't want to be watching Sportscenter reruns at 5 AM?
12 hours. Sleep again. I would've been crushed had this not happened.
9 hours. I watched that Nichole Kidman movie where the world gets some weird virus if they fall asleep. Virus movies scare me more that horror movies.
8 hours. Breakfast. The coffee in our hotel is terrible, but after yesterday's eating limitations breakfast is smelling perfect. We always have an omelet and waffle station in our road trip dining rooms. Usually I go with a more conventional bacon and eggs, but we stayed here three weeks ago when we played the Jets and I found out first hand this hotel sucks with bacon. So I headed to the omelet stand.
7 hours. Another team meeting. Only on night games do we include this time filling meeting. It's pretty much an hour of re-watching game film that everyone has seen 10 times. Last week in this same meeting Yoder and I played the "vagina game." The object of this game is to say "vagina" louder than the person before you. By the end of the meeting we were yelling vagina. I think coaches were a little concerned, but we would yell in context of the meeting. "That right guard is a complete VAGINA." There may have been a little too much pressure building up this week to be screaming vagina, but I smiled inside thinking of great moments to slip it in.
6 hours. I'm sitting naked in room 909, my back and ass pouring sweat into a shitty black leather chair. I showered and I'm waiting to put my nice clothes on. I guess I'll be showering again. I've brushed my teeth three times. I have a pimple in my eyebrow and it's swelling up because I go back to the mirror and squeeze it every thirty minutes. I know I haven't gotten it all yet so I haven't stopped, but it really is starting to hurt. I have nothing to do right now. Boredom is fusing with excitement, creating a stoppage of time in my world.
5 hours. Two hours until I board the bus the hell out of Hasbrouck Heights and into Giants Stadium. I'm starting to get pre-game nerves, one of my favorite feelings in life. I could not be more ready to play than right now. Thank God football is back.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
2:39 PM Chris Cooley No comments