DREAMS
�
By Swissvale72
Listen, Asshats, Steeler brothers & sisters, to this dream I had last
night.� Well, you can�t exactly listen
to somebody�s dream, but you know what I mean.
Watched NightLine
before I went to bed, all about the California Wildfires.� Started dreaming about San Diego, as though I�d
been there before.� It�s a �clear, sunny, early
November Pacific day. Sean Merriman is in front of Henry�s,,
doing his Lights Out gig. Meh!� Tony Gwynn�s there
as well, Lance Alworth, and�on no�.he isn�t�..Dennis
Gibson!!
All of a sudden, I�m in Pittsburgh.�
Greater Pitt�William Penn�Heinz Field, then I�m driving through
Swissvale, past the Triangle Bar on Monongahela Avenue, down into Rankin, take
a detour into Braddock�.still making steel in Braddock, Pa.� Then I�m across the Rankin
Bridge onto Kennywood
Boulveard, then it�s down
into the Mon Valley�.Donora (Roll, Tide),
Monongahela, Monesson.� I go into Charleroi, see if I can interview the DC
Madam�;);).�
Hey, speaking of DC�.my next stop is with Abdul, my DC tour guide��in
this buildin� are a bunch of paintins.�
Next thing ya know, I�m waking up
on the Grand Canyon�s North Rim.� I�m surrounded by Kaibab Squirrels & Hopi
Indians.� Then, I realize, it�s Sunday
morning, February 3rd.� It�s
Super Bowl Sunday.� I�ve gotta get my ass to Phoenix.� Know why?�
The Pittsburgh
Steelers are in Super Bowl XLII�facing off (yeah�..I know that hockey
lingo) against Brett Favre & the Green Bay
Packers.� This time, all of America�s
not pulling for the Steelers�.rather wanting Lord Favre
to ride off into the sunset with another Lombardi.
You probably want to know how the we
got here, huh?� Well, this is the 3am section of my dream.� Our Steelers stumbled a few times, wound up
11-5 and seeded #3.� Can you believe we
lost to the shitty Jets in the Meadowlands?�
Then, as expected, New England beat us
in Foxboro on December 9.� We just
couldn�t contain those fucks.� Threw a TD bomb to Randy Moss on the game�s first play�.just like
the one to Marvin Harrison in the Monday Nighter to
Indy in �05.� We battled back in
the second half, but the Pats rolled.�
And, yes, we lost at Baltimore
in the season finale.� Sucked�.watched
that from the Shanna Key, a nice divey Steeler bar in Key
West.� Looks like it belongs in Pittsburgh.
So, anyway�..we get those fuckin� Denver
Broncos in the Wild Card round.� This
time, we kick Jay Cutler�s ass�and we pound the fuckin�
ball down the field.� Beat Denver 33-14, same
eggs-act score as in the �78 post-season against the Doncos.
This is where it�s all expected to end�on the road at
Indy.� The whole football world�s assumed
it�s either Colts or Pats.� Colts beat
the Pats earlier in the year, but then lost a couple to finish at 14-2 to the
Pats 15-1.� The AFCCG has been
pre-ordained as a contest between these SuperPowers�..US
vs. USSR.� Indy is Mike Eruzione�.New
England
is Vlaislav Tretiak.� Y�know what, last
week, a guy at work was wearing a Tretiak� jersey�cool as
shit.� One problem with this
scenario�.once again, the Pittsburgh� Steelers.� This game�s different than �05.� Manning�s great; Indy gets their points.� Ben Roethlisberger
throws four fuckin� TDs
though�.puts the ball up 44 times, and the Steelers take a 31-28 decision, on a
pass to FWP in the final minutes.� Shut
the Fuck Up, all Ben doubters, everyone who cites the �When Ben throws over 30
passes� bullshit.
Oh�Pats win easily, over San Diego again�.and it�s on to Foxboro for
the AFCCG.�
Oh no�I�ve gotta prepare for this
game again�fear and trepediation consume me.� My house has needed painting for awhile.� I switch from the current grey/blue to camoflauge..� I paint my windows black.� My plan is to turn out the lights, pull the
shades, lock the doors�.dress completely in black, sit in the basement, watch solemnly.� I
order barbed wire to surround my property.�
Then, on Friday, Stupid Charlie, my Patriots friend, calls me with a
ducat for the game.� Having survived the
December encounter with just a few abrasions, I decide to brave the New England elements, the pompous crowd, and travel once
again to The Razor.� What a scene!!�
Half of New England awakes,
saying�.�Now Mildred, shall we travel to Foxoboro for
the football contest, or shall we view Crew on the Charles?�� �What�s that you say, Mildred?� It�s cold as fuck out?� No rowing boats on this mid-winter�s
afternoon?� Then I suggest, we opt for Gilette Stadium, but we must be sure to leave in time for
the Edna St. Vincent Millay reading on Beacon Hill
this evening.�
The other half stops at the stand giving away complementary
Homo1500 blowdryers, shipped in that day from Yale�s
Graduate School of Transgendered Studies in New
Haven.� There�s 20,000 strong wearing
pink at The Razor, all sporting Tedy Bruschi pompadours, that pompous fuck!!
On this day, �Attrition Football� is immortalized.� The Steelers don�t blitz so much as confuse
the living shit out of Brady�.all the while hammering the NE wideouts.� Even
Tyrone Carter gets into the act�.laying Randy Moss the fuck out late in the
game.� Moss trudges to the sideline,
never to take the field again.� The
Steelers balanced attack dominates as the late January sun sets.� Steelers win, just like yesterday,
24-13.� The Foxboro crowd adjourns to Boston Harbor,
dumps their Bob Kraft tea sets overboard.�
Speaking of Kraft, some unruly sorts tar & feather him &
Myrna�...keep him dressed in his cuffed & collared shirt though.� Coach Belichick in
responds to a question from the studio from the illustrious Bill Cowher,
finally melts down.� �I owned you, you
ass-chinned mother-fucker!!� You could
never do shit against me, you Stupid Fuck!��
With that, Beli�s hauled off the set, into the
ambulance, taken to Baldpate
Hospital, a nice, quaint
little psychiatric setting where he can convalesce well into Spring.
Steelers drive into Providence,
where they own Federal Hill, and draw crowds of adoring dagos.� They spend the night at the Dolce Villa�..Fat
Casey downs a few ricotta pies, and the whole crew flys
into Greater Pitt the following morning.�
Damn�.this is a long dream�.almost over.
Now, I wake up, at the North Rim.� Hopis are doing a rain dance�..�course they�re damn good at growing corn in some of the
driest land on earth.� The little
white-tailed kaibabs are in sync with the Hopis.� Gotta get my ass to Phoenix.� I�d take one of the Grand
Canyon�s mules�but I can�t adhere to the weight limit.� Drive??�.Shit..take too long to traverse the road out of the North
Rim.
I know�.the Grand Canyon copter�..lands me right in Phoenix�.Black &
Gold, Green & Gold.� Utter madenss.� There goes
the alarm.
Author�s note:� No, my
hallucinogenic period ended years ago.