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Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines

By Pauly

Los Angeles, CA

San Diego-Kansas City. It’s is one of those ugly-ass games that usually get hidden on the NFL docket, but for some reason SD/KC is the Thursday Night Football match-up.

When I didn’t have the NFL Network, I’d be pumped to miss a boring Thursday Night game. But now that I get the channel, I cannot resist the urge to rubberneck the shit show. A couple months ago, the suits running Time Warner decided to throw us dirty peasants a bone, so now the denizens in the Slums of Beverly Hills get a trio of sports channels to continue to distract us… the NFL Network,  NFL Red Zone, and the Pac-12 Network. The NFL Network is only valuable once a week during the Thursday night games. Watching the Red Zone on Sunday mornings is like smoking bacon-wrapped chocolate covered crack-cocaine. Oh what a beautiful buzz! It’s constant football. A rush of nonstop action. And then they kick it up a notch and go to the split screen, but that’s not enough… and then it goes to the supreme quad-screen. It’s like football on steroids and speed and more roids and more speed.

The Pac-12 Network is in full swing on Saturdays, when it hits peak programming of the week with football tripleheaders. The Pac-12 channel will be a super cool tool for sweating college basketball games later in the season, but right now the network is struggling to come up with diverse programming during non-Saturdays. As a result, six days a week I’m forced to watch repeats of a terrible Colorado Buffs squad get creamed by those high-octane Oregon Ducks, but most of the time, I’m paranoid that my girlfriend will catch me watching semi-erotic women’s college volleyball matches.

About that SD/KC debacle… I have a new rule: Never bet on Norv Turner.

How Needle-dick Norv still has a job in the NFL is anyone’s guess. I assume he has plenty of blackmail material (necrophilia or some twisted form of bestiality) on the Chargers’ owners otherwise he’d be sleeping with the fishes ages ago. With the spread San Diego -7.5 I did what any sensible gambler (who has been burned by Norv Turner too many times to count) would do… I bet the UNDER. Yeah, just like the Presidential election, I refuse to take a side on moral grounds… because both candidates are a huge bowl of camel cock. So, the pick was the UNDER.

I could have ignored the game altogether, but the damn simulator (in honor of Stanley Kubrick, we’re going to refer to Ocelot’s simulator as “HAL420”) was taunting and mocking us by spitting out a so-called “sure thing.” That cold-calculating fucker HAL420 projected that the final score of SD/KC would be somewhere in the low 30s. Holyshit balls! We found 43.5 and it seemed like a steal.

The final score of SD/KC was 31-13. That’s 44 total points. We lost the under on a wicked bad beat and a TD in garbage time. It really should not have been that close. San Diego scored two luckbox TDs… one by Cassell fumbling in the end zone and another tipped pass that was returned for a PICK 6.

Even when KC scored the last TD to make it 31-12, I was screaming at the TV and begging for a 2-point attempt. The total was 43. The only way I’d cover was if KC went for 2 and missed. Instead, they opted for an extra point. Kick was good. I lost by a half-a-point.

The curse of Norv Turner strikes again. It’s worse than Montezuma’s Revenge. No one wants to shit their pants… but we did. After that shit-stained loss, all I wanted to do was lock my melancholia-self in my office with a bottle of cheap rum and listen to super-depressing James Taylor’s Fire and Rain. On repeat. Until I black out. Fade to dark.


The Knicks/Nets were supposed to play tonight with the Nets debuting in their new home in Brooklyn. It was supposed to be a star-studded affair with the brightest stars in hip hop rubbing shoulders with the sketchiest track-suit-wearing, gold-chain-dangling mobsters and gaudy Zenga-suit-wearing oil oligarchs from Mother Russia. Alas, NYC is still reeling from the effects of Hurricane Sandy and that damn Frankenstorm ruined the Nets opener. The game was postponed to an unknown date. 

Without a Knicks-Nets game, the only other mighty contest involved a match-up between  Oklahoma City/San Antonio. Even after the Harden trade and after the Lakers’ puke-worthy panic-inducing 0-2 start, OKC is still the team to beat in the wild wild wild West. However, San Antonio is no slouch and easily the third best team in the West. I figured it was going to be a shootout because Westbrook/Durant and newly added K-Mart are eager to show everyone that OKC is still the top dogs in the West without Harden. HAL420 ran the simulation and spit out a total of almost 211. The line opened at 201 and we got on the OVER at 202.

OKC got off to a sluggish start and trailed for most of the game. By the end of the 1Q, the OVER was waaaaay under pace. But then something peculiar happened at the end of the 3Q as time ticked down with 1.7 seconds left, Eric Maynor attempted a 50+ footer from beyond half court… SWISH… nothing but net. That tied the score at 66-66. We were still waaay behind, but that crazy shot injected a little hope into my deflated self. For the duration of the 4Q, I was praying for  overtime because that would be the only way for us to get a shot at hitting the over.

OKC kept the game close and the score was tied coming down the stretch. But as the once-absurd notion of overtime went from a pipe dream to a potential reality, it became obvious that I still needed a miracle… and at least two overtime sessions to cover 202. What the hell was that fuckstick HAL420 smoking while running the simulations?

But just when I thought about unplugging HAL420… Tony Parker nailed a jumper as time expired. Had he missed… the game woulda gone into OT. Alas… he didn’t miss and San Antonio won 86-84. We tore up another ticket.

We’re 3-3 overall in the NBA. All I lost was juice, but three days into the basketball season and all I can think about is the end of the season. Time to crawl into that bottle of rum and think of sweet dreams and flying machines.

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