Happy Monday, Spursland! Oh, what a game. A back and forth that delighted me in the most titillating ways. It was the right amount of pleasure with the pain for me that brought me back to the kind of games that made me fall in love with this club. That is a special feeling that I don't get much anymore. The great Chad Dukes of DC drive time radio has said that the best and worst thing to ever happen to him was getting the starring gig at a sports station in his home town, great for his career but it's made enjoying his favorite football team's games impossible. I didn't notice until this weekend that that has kind of happened to me and I just hadn't noticed. But as the game on Saturday changed momentum, I got that feeling again, like I was back on the bucking bronco that might toss you to the ground sometimes, but the ride would ultimately one day pay off. It's why I fell in love, and feeling that way is one of the greatest gifts I have ever known. So what I am trying to say, very poorly, is Ade please stop fucking this up for me.
And now the "news"
Some of you are not sure about this man, some of you hate this man. I have tried to keep an open mind about him and hold off judgment about him as long as possible. Well I have reached my conclusion -- he is our guy. I love him, and his doughy face, and his raw anger. It reminds me of myself. When I heard the commentators saying that when they put five minutes of added time on the board that Poche was "kicking every ball in the technical area," I knew it was love. He is one of us. And if you dare to talk poorly about my boy, I shall unleash my considerable wrath upon you.
Tell me Mason does not look like the third string henchmen of the evil duke in a gritty movie about musketeers. Try and tell me that.
Caley is always going on and on about shooting from "the danger zone." Whatever, Maverick just put the damn ball in the net, is what I say.
Dare to dream, stats boy.
Come on, buck up you bunch of sad pandas.