Man's Weekend, Part 3

Saturday, Day 3: Sweet Home Alabama

Saturday morning was a good morning. No nausea, no hangover. Guinness = good. Beach football was scheduled for 1pm, and it (as always) would be The Old Guys versus The Young Guys. For the first time ever, Vinnie, Badger, and I joined Deathlok on the Old Team. Ouch. The game started okay, with both teams scoring quickly. Soon after that, however, the ugly made an appearance in the form of my quarterbacking. I was at the helm for one series, which progressed as such:

First down: Deep end zone pass inches out of reach of Burnsy.
Second down: Incomplete pass to Sean.
Third down: Interception.

Hall of Fame, here I come. It got worse from there, as the kids trounced us, 10-3. At least Vinnie solidified his position as the laugh riot once again. He brought his kids' football, but it was so over-inflated (like me) that is was left on the sideline. The winds were brutal, and the football started rolling toward the ocean. I said, "Hey, Vin, your ball is gonna get wet." He shrugged it off, thinking he'd get it when the play got back to that end of the beach.

Never happened.

On top of the high winds, the tide was going out. Once the football hit the water, it took mere minutes for it to take off. By the time we got back to where the ball entered the sea, it was past the jetty - a cool fifty yards out. We started laughing at the thought of Vinnie explaining to his kids what happened to the ball. "Um, it's in a better place now. England." Hilarity ensued.

After the game, Sean, Badger, Vinnie and I were bored, so we figured we'd hit the bar early. (Time of day: 4pm). The Michigan game was on, and since I hadn't made an ass out of myself (yet) I'd order an Alabama Slammer. Or, as I usually (drunkenly) refer to it: a drinky-poo. The rest of my time at that particular bar is a tad hazy. So, we moved to the next bar - on the beach in Avalon, New Jersey.

The Slammers continued for yours truly. I mean, they were working fine so far, right? Vinnie then decided it was time to kick it up a notch with shots. We started playing a game where we'd quickly tap our hands on the bar, point to a guy, and he'd yell what we'd order. For example, after the clapping stopped, Vinnie would point to badger, who yelled, "Kamikazes!" It went on like this until closing.

In the interim, Young Sean, Vinnie, and I were outside on the boardwalk doing "crease-clearing drills." Sean played "goalie," while Vinnie and I tried to body check each other out of the imaginary crease. It got really rough, and folks inside thought there was a fight going on. Of course, we didn't feel a thing . . . until the morning, that is.

I'll post about the Dreaded Sunday tomorrow.