The Other SIde of Butt-Kickin'

As you know, I like to write about victories big and small in my fight with cancer. Clean scan? Blog it! Able to run longer than I have in a year? Facebook, baby! Normal bowel movements 3 days in row? Um, I'll let you know when it happens.

But in life, some games are zero-sum: for each winner, there must be a loser. And being a loser stinks. I don't mean the kind of loser who gets Slurpeed on Glee. No, I mean grown men, really grown men, after they get humiliated on the gridiron.

You see, I had the great pleasure of flying to and from Chicago on the Falcons' charter last weekend thanks to one of their sponsors whom I won't name because I'm not sure they want me to disclose that they do these trips for fear of pissing off their less-favorite customers. Actually, I've referred them some business and they responded with this very cool trip.

The Northbound trip on Saturday was great, seeing all these superstars in their suits and ties, although I suspect there must be some weight limit to that requirement because a few of the O-line guys had on open collar shirts and no jackets. I was about to tell Sam Baker to suit up, but I feared he might eat me if I did. Speaking of eating, the rookies are required to bring aboard food at the request of the veterans. Sure enough, here was Julio Jones toting a case of Chick-fil-A's to the back (the coaches sat in first class, the players had 2-3 seats apiece in the back cabin, and the sponsors and non-coaching staff were in the middle cabin of the 767).

Me @ Soldier Field Pre-Game

After a fun evening out, we settled in at the JW Marriott, the team hotel. Sunday morning we were treated to breakfast after the team finished their pre-game meal. Never in my life have I seen such quantities and variety of food for an 8:00 a.m. meal for 53 people. Smoothie stations, pasta bar, sandwich bar, salads, omelettes to order, and a 30-foot long buffet full of traditional breakfast items like pancakes, bacon, and grits.  It was ridiculous.

Then our police escort helped our bus get to the stadium, where we were able to spend about an hour on the field during warm-ups. That's when we should've left. Unfortunately, that's when the Falcons seemingly left, as evidenced by the final score, 30-12 in favor of the home team, and it wasn't that close.

The plane ride back was a somber affair. I hardly heard any conversation from the back, let alone a laugh. Whatever Julio brought onboard this time, it was devoured in silent reflection by some very large, tired, and I suspect, embarrassed men.

Get some perspective, fellas. Given the choice, I'd take a loss like that over a loss in the cancer fight any day. Fortunately, it's not a choice I've faced so far.


Dammit Julio - I said extra pickles!