Posts Tagged With: Falcons

Fear The Walking Atlanta Sports Fan


I was slow to warm to the show The Walking Dead initially. It seemed nothing more than an honorable band of individuals exhibiting feats of bravery and brutality while staving off the flesh-thirsty zombie horde out to make a meal of their arms, legs, or whatever other body parts their rapidly rotting molars could sink into. The show was about 3.5 seasons when I started watching and it wasn’t long before I was a fan of the show, not a hardcore fanatic – I’m not online the moment an episode ends looking for theories nor am I in the bookstores sitting cross legged in the aisles flipping through every TWD graphic novel – but a fan nonetheless. As a person that needs to have things ironed out and tied up in a nice little bow in the shows I watch, the main issue that I have with the show is that I have no idea of the origin of the show’s apocalypse, dude just woke up one day and the country was just overrun with these things out and eat and maim. For years this bothered me, even as I watched and enjoyed the twists and turns of the show, I needed to know where this virus, this plague, originated. Little did I know that the origin story was aired on Fox last Sunday night ahead of the TWD midseason premiere coming up on the February 12th.

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Categories: Atlanta, Humor, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Atlanta Heads West…All of Us.

Atlanta Falcons Fans

Dear Citizens of Houston:

Hello friends, I bring you greetings from the proud, oft traffic snarled, city of Atlanta. I wanted to reach out to you this week because I’ve been to Houston several times over the last 20 years or so and I like you guys, a lot actually. I needed to alert you that although you’re experiencing beautiful late January weather, a storm is coming your way. If you still yourself and lean your good ear to the east you’ll hear the faint sound of suitcases zipping shut, vehicle engines starting, and the faint strains of “Weee ready…Weee ready…Weee ready for y’all…” drifting in on an afternoon breeze.  It is a storm dressed in red and black, an Iceman its leader, and a bird of prey its symbol. We are indeed ready; it is the intent of this letter writer to make sure that the fair city of Houston is ready as well. Below you will find a number of items that I hope will prove helpful for the onslaught, I mean, arrival of Atlanta residents to your fair city.

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Categories: Atlanta, Sports, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 Comment

It’s You, Not Me, Falcons.

It's You

**gathers all the Atlanta Falcons in a room and closes the door quietly**

You know what, guys? Enough.

No more.

I give.

I’ve been a fan of you guys for just about 34 years of my life. My Granddaddy loved y’all when you arrived in this city in 1966 until the day he left this Earth. My Dad loves y’all lamenting the woeful Falcon teams he was offered autumn after autumn… and I love y’all, honest I do, but on the real, I’m tired.

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Categories: Atlanta, Relationships, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Sports, Superstitions, and Silliness…

“When you believe in things that you don’t understand, then you suffer…” -Stevie Wonder

I’m a slave to sports. My TV is almost always on a channel with the letters ESPN in it. When I was a kid my father and I would use sports as an escape because, let’s face it, living in a house with three women (my Mom and two sisters) was a daunting proposition what with fluctuating estrogen levels and wavering emotional states. Since those escapes with my Dad long ago, sports has gained a much larger market share of my emotions, and apparently my brain, and if I don’t get a hold of myself, or the Atlanta Falcons don’t lose soon, I’m going to catch my end due to pneumonia. Okay, let me explain. Continue reading

Categories: Atlanta, Humor, So Incredibly Random, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Getting Over It – A Sports Story

Hey folks! I’ve been away from my blog for awhile. It’s through no fault of my own for you see I, my friends, have been in an Atlanta Falcons induced coma. I have seen seemingly the worst hockey that has ever been on ice displayed by my Atlanta Thrashers but a couple of days and a couple of beers later, I’m okay. I have seen my Atlanta Hawks slapped around the hardwood domains of several basketball arenas in this great nation but I’m okay after a day or so. The epic postseason faceplants of my beloved Atlanta Braves are numerous and colorful but after four or five days I’m right back after it again. The Falcons, however, made me cry my first sports related tear on January 4th, 1981, and they’ve reduced me to seasonal whimpering every year since then. They don’t just break my heart, they stomp it, they twist the life out of it, blow their nose with it and hand it back to me with a smirk. I’m sure they don’t intend to be so harsh, I’m sure they want to win as much as I want to see them win; but over the years they have been so creative and maniacal with the way they bruise me until I’m starting to think they do it on purpose. So it’s not hard to fathom that when I woke up on Saturday, January 15th, I felt twinges of dread starting to gather on the inside. Certainly not this time though Falcons; not with the best record in the conference, not with home field advantage throughout the playoffs, you certainly wouldn’t abuse me this time would you? I looked up at my red Falcon jersey and hooded sweatshirt hanging on the closet door as if waiting for the logo emblazoned on the front to answer my rhetorical question…but silence. I thought I saw the eye of the Falcon on the sleeve of my jersey wink at me, but I think that was just an early morning hallucination. I shook off my doubt and went on about the day; ticket in hand I was ready to go and help usher in the new era of Falcon football with 65,000 of my closest friends. My heart beating with Falcon pride I locked the front door and descended my front steps but as I walked up the block to the train station the inner 8-year-old who was brought to tears by that other Falcon playoff team decades ago called out… “You’ll be sorry you bought that ticket, you could have gotten a shiny new train set for that.”…then his small voice faded out as I pulled my hat tight over my head and walked up the block to catch the train.

It takes no time to get from the house to the station where I find that the escalator is broken but I’m thrilled to know that someone else in my neighborhood is also familiar with the comedy stylings of Mitch Hedberg…

I didn’t really have a problem trotting up the steps though considering it was colder than polar bear nipples dragging across a glacier outside. This was the week of Snowpacalypse here in the city and the freeze was still very much in effect here. Once I was down in the station I certainly didn’t appreciate the wind whipping through the place, I had on 4 layers and seriously reconsidered going home and getting three more. But after about 5 minutes the train came and I took my seat.

The thing about Atlanta, especially for sporting events, is that we’re always late. I have a clue as to why that is but I’ll keep that to myself so as to not trample on anyone’s sensibilities. 🙂 Anyway, I jumped on the first train car because that’s the car that stops closest to the Dome stairwell a few stops down the way. It’s approximately 5:45 at this point, kickoff isn’t until 8 which explains the empty car.

Five Points Station is an extremely poor man’s version of Grand Central station. Extremely poor. But since a pretty good portion of the Falcons fanbase is north of the city you can always count on the train to get crowded here due to the suburban folks transferring in the city. I snapped this picture of a young lady’s shoes once everyone squeezed into the train.

There are 5 million people in the city of Atlanta. So what are the chances that I run into a high school soccer teammate of mine? On this day, pretty daggone high. It was good to see you, Chris!

I’m still dealing with these twinges of doubt and uncertainty as the clock moves closer to kickoff time but nothing will relax your mood (and warm your insides) like crashing a tailgate sponsored by Crown Royal. It’s time to get after some libations, ladies and gentlemen. If the bartender is pouring while wearing a purple velvet hat, you know it’s on.

There was almost a near riot because the line was long and the Crown Royal supply had just run out. There were no “Water into Crown Royal” type miracles taking place at this particular location so the natives were starting to grow restless while they waited on the new cases to arrive but once they did everyone walked away with a cup that looked a little something like this…

I am not a sports trash talker, I just don’t do it. When I played football in high school I wasn’t good enough to justify talking trash to anyone except myself and the sport I did excel in (soccer) didn’t lend itself much to the act of trash talk. So why is it now that I’m standing on the sidewalk across the street from the stadium talking trash to any and everything wearing Green Bay Gold? Oh man, what in the world has gotten into me? I’m calling people names, threatening to knock cheesehead hats off all while voraciously flirting with the lady selling candy apples. What is going on with me? Oh yeah…Crown Royal…

It’s cold outside and since I don’t like being cold we made our way inside…its about 7:15, kickoff isn’t for another hour or so. The good people in the Dome had the Steelers/Ravens game on the screens inside turning the place into the world’s largest sports bar for about an hour or so.

About a half hour passes and the place is completely rocking now. The Dome is jam packed and 85% is in Falcon Red and Black. Pregame introductions are taking place and I can’t hear myself think. We’re all swept up in euphoric Falcon fever waving our red flags  with the Falcons’ catchphrase “RISE UP” printed on them. I imagine it’s like what all the other stadiums in the league are like while we were too busy sucking over the last 15-20 years. This is what the other half feels like: Pride, Passion, and deafening roars of approval from the home folks.

The Falcons get a fumble recovery and return it about 10 yards, or maybe 20, perhaps 30 yards…I don’t know, I’m jumping and screaming and my head is still fuzzy from whatever dude in the purple Yosemite Sam hat made. I just know we have the ball and then a few plays later…touchdown!!

Then they score, then we return the kickoff for a score and then that’s when the night went real bad real quick on the field and in the stands. The Packers start going all PlayStation on the Falcons defense, the Falcons start going all Little League football, turnovers, mishaps, embarrassments; everything they do is very right, everything we do in horrifically wrong and I start to wonder aloud if they even have a punter. Then a Packer fan gets hauled out of our section for slicing cheese (with a knife, it’s against the rules for weapons of any kind in the stadium)and handing it out to other Packer fans in the section. People get unruly, a dude 5 rows behind me calls me “boy” and that’s why you don’t see any more pictures because for the next 2 quarters I’m seeing red (not Falcons red this time) wanting to stomp a hole in the chest of the guy. The one time I needed to be rolling with some of my unseemly associates to do some facial damage to a redneck Packer fan I go to the game with my educated friend that calmly talks me off the ledge and keeps me from doing something stupid…Thanks, dude. I appreciate it, but you have to admit, dude would have had it coming.

90 minutes later the stadium is empty and the inner 8-year-old is all in my ear saying “See! See! Didn’t I tell you that you’d regret it. They always break your heart, just like every year. Why didn’t you listen to me? Why didn’t you just buy a train set!” All I could do is sit there surrounded by the Packer fans who were hooting and hollering up a storm at this point and why not? This was a tail kicking of the highest order. I couldn’t bring myself to leave though, they were still my team, still my boys. With ’em to the bitter end and when the clock struck zero and all the Cheeseheads cheered this is what it looked like on the scoreboard…

This has served as therapy of sorts, the fact that I’ve talked about the game is proof enough that I’m healing. However, I haven’t watched ESPN for a collective 15 minutes since the Night of the Letdown and sports talk radio is a complete no-no. Baby steps I guess. We’ve all got our vices and the Falcons are mine. They mistreat me and they tease me but I’ll be back, I always come back…year after year. They need me I guess so come August I’ll forget this ever happened, pull the jersey out of the back of the closet, and hop a westbound train towards downtown where I’ll take my seat amongst the faithful and think, “maybe this time they’ll love me back.” Until then, I have Braves baseball, Thrashers hockey, and Hawks basketball to mangle what’s left of my sports loving heart…

Hope springs…

~thanks for reading 🙂

Categories: Atlanta, Humor, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Observations from the Stands – A Family Affair

Whenever I’m lucky enough to get a ticket to see the Falcons play I tend to make a day of it, go down to the stadium early, wander around and mooch off people’s tailgate parties, go into the Dome early and watch the teams warm up and, in general, people watch…

*sidebar* The most beautiful women in Atlanta are at the Falcons games on Sundays, my Lord where do they breed these women? Anyway…

I’m sitting in my seats about 25 minutes before kickoff eating a personal pizza that I paid WAY too much money for when the perfect family walked down the aisle and sat in the row behind me.  The wife was one of the beautiful women I was talking about a minute ago. About 5’5, hair in spiral curls, jeans hugging her curves perfectly, her red #33 Michael Turner jersey illustrating her allegiance and her smile was, in a word, incredible. Her husband was a regular dude; the kind of guy that gives average Joes like me hope that they can score a woman like her if they talk fast enough and purchase enough dinners and roses. Regular guy, jeans, and like his wife, adorned in a red Falcons jersey.

…and then there was their daughter…

Let me preface this by saying that I adore little girls, I want a son one day that I can sit and watch football games with and teach him to keep his left up when the bully on the block tries to test him. But I would love a little girl too…something about little girls with me, maybe it’s because I’m getting a little older and my daddy urge is starting to kick in, but she was the perfect little piece of the both of them. She looked like her mom but had enough of her daddy to let you know that she was his. Her hair was in spiral curls to match her mother’s; jeans and, just like Mom and Dad, a red Falcons jersey. She was on her father’s shoulders and holding a red and black pom pon in each hand, she had this look of amazement in her eyes as she looked up at the roof of the Dome. The three of them sitting there in anxious anticipation of the start of the game, wife with her arm around her husband telling him something that induces a laugh and the little girl, maybe 3 or 4 years old, with her entire face slammed inside a bucket of popcorn that her father had just bought.

It was the perfect, red jersey draped family. I don’t know what kind of issues they may have at their home, don’t know if they are one paycheck away from being foreclosed on, don’t know if they even have a house, but from what I saw that family of three for 3 hours didn’t have a care in the world, they were perfect. The little girl probably didn’t know what was going on but whenever Mom and Dad jumped up she would shake her pom poms furiously along with them. Along the way all the cheering and the hour of the night had taken its toll; the daughter was fast asleep, I mean, drooling sleep, in Mom’s arms. Wife and husband gave a knowing look to one another and then they decided to take their leave late in the game. We all said our goodbyes and said the usual “See you next week!” and they headed for the exit, Mom…Dad…and daughter.

They were perfect, I can’t explain to you why they were…they just fit, you know? A beauty of a wife and her regular working man husband and this gorgeous little girl all in their red jerseys headed to wherever home was for them and as I watched them leave I couldn’t help but wish to myself that I can be a piece of that perfect example to some dude sitting behind me, my wife, and my child at the Dome on some future Falcon football Sunday.

Love your wives, love your husbands, love your children, love your families, love yourselves.

     ~thanks for reading 🙂

Categories: Attempts at Seriousness, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

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