Freddogg Off The Chain

How does a 60 year old sportswriter get the heart pumping when covering yet another “this is huge” divisional playoff game? How about running the guantlet of red flag waving parking lot security homees with an illegal pass hanging from the rear view mirror?

The nerve of the Baltimore Ravens not to send me a parking pass, to compliment my Credential, because, bet you by golly wow, the Colts are back in Baltimore Divisional playoff showdown. The good news is I had a leftover pass from the December 31 Buffalo at Baltimore game which I didn’t use because I was riding a parking pass and Credential to the Atlanta at Eagles game the same day.

My Parking Pass was the same color but said all the wrong things as I was spinning through the crossroads where A.D.D. meets Apathy. I was prepared to bribe any keeper of the gate who took their job too seriously. I had to tear off the bottom of my pass and hand it to the “I was a shot putter” in high school and I sure as hell ain’t standing up to take your stupid tearoff you punk ass.

I was so exhilirated my heart was pumping and the adreniline was flowing. Now I know I must knock off a bank because “That’s where the money is” as Willie Sutton so clearly understood. “Behaviors that are exciting come with risks-it’s an axiom-a truism-my gradmother Rose once said. “Here comes Poppy, Grandmom! Is that excited in a ‘risky business’ sort of way?”
“Not at all ,’she said. “Let’s rework the theory.”