Off the ticket, Grid reports late for duty
Fine offseason Yours Can`t-Get-Anything-Done had. Negotiations with the King County Urinal stalled all winter. I told them there was no way I was going Web-only again. Do I look like a virtual guy? Grid is hard copy. Grid is wet newsprint all over your hands. Tried to get a hold of that guy named Wolfe. Told he wasn`t around. Moore? Ditto. Woten? Ah, forget it. Will the last person leaving the KC rag, please turn off the faulty heating. As for payment ... that was an issue, too. Found that out the hard way last year. Grid won`t work for free anymore.
So, I finally got the contract worked out, missed the first week, though. Ugh! Thought I was Walter Jones. Had the Winnebago packed up, ready to make that zig-zag across the country, when hurricane season opened. There`s a reason they called her Frances. Gentle or pretty got nothin` to do with any girl with that name.
Ouch! Take it easy with that rolling pin. (Forgot the Missus has a sister named Frannie).
Well, between all the plywood on the windows of our rig and my delirium to get here in record time, I got confused. Took too many rights when I should have taken lefts. Next thing I know, Mrs. G and me found ourselves smack in New York City, smack in the middle of the Republican National Convention.
Rule: Grid doesn`t like conventions at all, unless they involve football or pretty women, and this one didn`t have much of either. Still, I figured, what the heck? After all, Grid had a pretty good run for office in 2000. Had some support in Medina, in the SSSSS-curves, in line at Ikea. Had a nice campaign going until that photo of me and Nader in the subway came out. And my running mate of choice, Cameron Diaz, fell off the Hollywood radar faster than Dan Quayle fell off the D.C. radar in 1992.
As we pulled into the Big Apple, I found that my name, SSN, address, motor oil of choice, favorite TV dinner, phone number, love for ``90210`` reruns, everything I`ve ever liked or disliked in my life had been posted on billboards, on lamp posts, on the Internet. See, the Republicans hate me. Not really in their tax bracket. (I do, technically, work for this scandal sheet). Democrats? Well, they felt my connection with Nader cost Gore the White House. Inabilities to read instructions and/or ``play the political game`` fit in here somewhere, too.
Next thing I know the Winnebago was being hit with tomatoes. I`m allergic to them. (It`s on the Internet). Psychotic political-types, Reps and Dems both, called me a traitor.
I screamed: ``I`m not even a delegate. Don`t you remember? I ran on the football ticket.``
My football platform was solid. That campaign could win. I`m sure of it. But maybe I was the was wr-, wro-. ... It`s really hard for me to admit. Ahhhh!!! I was the WRONG candidate.
To win on the football ticket, we need someone young, someone charismatic, a leader of men. A winner. Someone with poise and grace, someone more prepared than Boy Scouts, someone who squeezes 25 hours out of each day, someone who would have wing-T`ed every terrorist threat right back to its foreign land. Someone the under-30 crowd relates to, someone the older folks appreciate.
Just as we pulled into town late last Saturday night, just as Bellevue was putting the finishing touches on the greatest win this area has ever seen, it hit me like a J.R. Hasty stiff-arm. There is only one person in the free world who could be President of the United States, who could win on the football platform and win easily, who could drive all this political jargon away and make our country proud again ...
Butch Goncharoff.
The campaign has officially started.
THE PICKS
The Pros
Seahox at Bayou: Fitting that Holmgren`s Heroes begin their Super Bowl run here, in the land of beads and bare breasts, Cajun cooking, great music, good beverages and, well, Super Bowls. It`s finally NOW time. SEATTLE, 33-10.
The Almost Pros
BYE at Washington: Let`s keep this simple ... 35-16? To Fresno State?? Yikes. Gotta figure BYE will keep this one close, perhaps even able to pull out a win if the mushpuppies give away some more points. No truth to rumor UW boosters inquired about acquiring Hasty and wing-T playbook in a package deal. In the meantime, how many more games before Gilby is fired? HUSKIES hold off BYE, 5-4.
Colorado at Wazzu: Buffs have their own way of partying. Let`s just say lock up your daughters. Cougs? They look like the choir boys in this comparison. Swogger provides the swagger, gives Barnett another reason to hate himself. CATS, 24-19.
The Kids
Kentridge at Tahoma: Corey Feldman. Corey Haim. Corey McClain. Two of the best actors of our generation, and well, a Charger ready to run through a bunch of Bear traps. Hey, wasn`t that a subplot in one of the Coreys` movies? Oh, well. Stokes just plain stoked for this one, and KR can`t be stopped, 30-20.
Kentlake at Enumclaw: In secret, Grid always roots for the Falcons, maybe because of the classic unis, maybe because he loved Steve Bartkowski, William Andrews and Alfred Jenkins. Either way, don`t tell anybody. Chopp slices and dices his way through the Hornets` nest, 23-17.
Juanita vs. Bothell, at the Pop: My, how Woe-nita has fallen. Seems only yesterday the Rebs were really Rebels, waving the confederate flag, winning back-to-back state titles. Does anybody go to school there anymore? Guess all the good athletes are playing soccer. Just no way Bainter`s Boys lose two in a row. Blue Train, 27-10.
Prosser at Issaquah: Ponies, who ripped through the Isles last week, are living dangerously. Don`t want to spend too much time trolling around Kingco Three-ay, state`s toughest league. Is Hammermaster the coolest football name in years? Indians (I don`t care what the school district says) send Prosser packing, 28-24.
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