A night for the ages, and one that started with the attire. I wore my trademark black mock turtleneck, letter jacket, black jeans, and white LA gears. I addressed the team before the game and gave them Bud Kilmer's “48 minutes for the next 48 years” speech and told them that for virtually all of them, a victory tonight would prove to be the high point of their existence. It’s all downhill from here.
As most of you know, I've been having the piccolo player play the Rains of Castamere at midfield before the games. But tonight I wanted to really take it up to another theatrical level, so earlier this week I made a deal with the high school marching band to come play in exchange for a $2,000 donation. They were very excited because apparently they need new tassels or something. So that I didn't have to pay them ahead of time, I convinced them to let me present them with a check before tonight's game. That thing has zero chance of ever clearing, but I can deal with the fallout later.
In any event, the piccolo player went to midfield and started playing Rains of Castamere on his violin. Then, my DC, me and my cousin the workers’ comp attorney -- who has really done a hell of a job serving as our legal counsel and was wearing his finest Joseph A. Bank suit tonight -- emerged from the woods and strode towards the field with the marching band behind us and the Lannister sigil flapping in the breeze. We then flanked the piccolo player and faced the opposing team with determined looks on our faces and pointed to our championship rings. One of the opposing players peed himself.
Unfortunately, we didn't play very well in the first half. The offense was out of sync, the defense made mistakes, and my DC got an ill-timed fifteen-yard flag for trying to trip a player on the opposing team. We went into the half down 18-7. We then took the players to the parking lot and my DC stood atop the trunk of his Chrysler Lebaron and gave a hell, fire, and brimstone speech in which he shared his own "comeback" story. To show the defense he trusted them to give us the second half shutout we needed, he turned his back to us and did another "trust fall." Of course the players couldn't catch him, but they slowed him down enough that he wasn't injured badly when he hit the ground. He was so fired up he got up and started head butting his car, and the players then followed him back out to the field for the second half.
His motivation tactic worked, because in the second half our defensive didn't give up a single first down. They had absolutely no answer for our DT with the Rat Tail, who we agreed to pay $5 for every kid he knocked out of the game – he’s walking home with a fresh $25 in his pocket, so mission accomplished. The offense was a little better, but not much, and two 2 minutes to go we got the ball back down 18-13. We moved down the field and were at the 11 yard line with 5 seconds to go and called a time out to figure out what to do.
My DC suggested that we run the "Statute" of Liberty. I thought it was a brilliant idea, but unfortunately the players on our team are so stupid that only the piccolo player knew (a) what the actual Statue of Liberty is, or (2) the offensive play that is based on it. I pulled my phone out of its belt holster and tried to show them the Statute of Liberty play from the 2007 Fiesta Bowl, but the cell service wasn't very good. We eventually decided we had no choice but to put the piccolo player in at running back, because he was the only one who could be trusted to execute the play that would define our season.
Our quarterback did a good job of selling the pass and the other team never thought in a million years that they needed to account for the piccolo player. The piccolo player was handed the ball and scampered into the end zone untouched as time expired for a 19-18 victory.
Absolute chaos transpired. Parents, friends, and relatives were rushing the field. Grown men cried. My cousin the workers’ comp attorney and I raced down to the end zone and dove on top of the dog pile. My DC went and stood in front of the opposing sideline and pretended to be the actual Statue of Liberty. Once everything calmed down, the parents and players carried me, my DC, my cousin, and the piccolo player off the field.
When we got to the parking lot, my DC addressed the team in tears and told them how proud he was of them, especially the piccolo player. As a symbolic gesture of how the piccolo player is no longer defined by his piccolo playing, we asked had him go get his actual piccolo. We then placed it on the ground behind the rear tire of my DC’s Lebaron, and my DC got in the driver’s seat and backed over it. My DC and I assumed we could get a replacement from KMart or somewhere for a few dollars, but apparently that thing costs a couple grand, so his parents may be pretty pissed when they find out. Also, my DC currently is not allowed by the State of Georgia to operate a motor vehicle, so hopefully this incident doesn't get reported to the authorities.
We're at Beef's celebrating with champagne and Fireball. Korbel Brut really does pair perfectly with steak nachos.