Armchair QB

Ray regretted his impulse the moment the cup left his hand. Each time his defense was dissected like a Grade 12 Biology Piglet, there was always a split-second when rationality went out the window like a Jeff George 12-yard overthrow. It would have been preferable if the malt beverage that now dripped from his TV and the wall behind it wasn’t in his hands when that split-second arrived this time.

It’s very much true you can be born a fan. In Ray’s case he was born into his allegiance, and his loyalty was so fierce it had kept him one for all these years. His father was a Raiders fan, and Ray was too. With the exception of that aberrational 2003 run that ended when Gruden knew their playbook better than they did, Ray had been watching Davis the Dinosaur run his team into the ground for as long as he could remember. Sunday afternoons had become a trying experience, to say the least.

Mrs. Ray often remarked that Ray devolved into a petulant teenager for 3 hours every Sunday in front of the TV, but that’s nothing noteworthy as its par for the course for nearly every passionate football fan. She had come to accept it, but she was drastically less accepting of their living room pieces being at constant risk of projectile attack each time Oakland’s offense looked like a drunken Pop Warner scrimmage.

This time she walked into the aftermath, remarking “good thing we have hardwood floors” with a disdainful shake of the head. Ray didn’t even blink, he was too focused hoping for a successful third-down stop, and the resulting first-down completion brought out a string of expletives that would have made a trucker proud. The Mrs. stared over with eyes locked on the bowl of nacho dip that was sharing its contents with the chair after this most recent outburst, and thought of the new microfiber upholstery sofa set they had ordered recently from Cymax Stores. Something had to be done, and sooner rather than later based on the fact this 0-4 season wasn’t looking to get any better anytime soon.

Ray tried to diffuse the situation somewhat with a token “Sorry honey, you know how I get.” She certainly did, but her mind was made up. She made her way into the den and sat down at the computer. Online shopping really was so easy, and the convenience of home delivery was a big part of why they had decided to purchase their new sofa set from Cymax. It had only been two days since they had placed their order, and Mrs. Ray was fairly sure this purchase would need to arrive shortly after the sofa did, or definitely before the first Sunday after.

The decision was quick and easy. Six quality-made Winsome TV trays were staring back at her and, priced right with a full money-back guarantee, before you can say “TOUCHDOWN CHARGERS!!” two were in her cart and at the checkout. She was pleased to check the “estimated arrival date” icon attached to each product and see that her trays would arrive only days after the sofa. “As easy as that” she thought.

Both of them were very happy with their purchases. The sofa set looked great, and it didn’t take Ray much to realize the value of having his beverage out of his hand when the Raider’s red-zone offense sputtered like a weathered ’72 Pinto. The Mrs. admired from a distance, and felt a sense of security as strong as a San Diego secondary in seeing the snacks on the new tray and far from the upholstery.

For Ray and all of us like him – 17 days left!

Xs and Os and the Evolution of the Bean Bag Chair

Trying to explain to my grandmother the abstract strategic correlation between American football and chess never went particularly well. The concept of neutralizing selective parts of your opposition, attacking weakened and more vulnerable surface areas, blocking and protection etc., etc. that are common between the two pretty much flew right over her head. Granny loved playing chess and when my father was busy I would accommodate her with a game but, truth be told, I would every time have rather been seated in front of my Nintendo playing Tecmo Bowl or Blades of Steel.

Fast forward all these years, I don’t own a Nintendo Wii but in a sense I am thankful one of my friends does as it seems to have given my wife a measure of insight into my affinity for sports video games. She really enjoyed the physical dimension of it and has taken an according shining to Guitar Hero as well. Beforehand, she was at a loss as to understand why I would become so animated when playing with friends or online. Jumping up and down, using “selective” language, choice pushing and shoving if my opponent was seated next to me, spilled beverages, and so forth and so on. Seeing her throw her arms up and spin around with an animated “whoo!” when she threw her first strike in Wii bowling definitely brought a smile to my face.

When I was about 13 or so, I convinced my parents to buy me an NFL bean bag chair at a garage sale for next to nothing. It was worn but featured the logo of every team, including the best logo in all of pro sports; the super striking lightning bolt of the powerhouse SAN DIEGO CHARGERS! I fondly remember my throne as I think back to the long hours I spent honing my power play and red zone offense while my parents griped “It’s sunny and 23 outside and you want to stay in your room?” Yes, I did.

Nowadays, kids have it a lot better and I have to say I’m a little envious. Bean bag chairs are still well-suited for some serious thumb time, but now it’s likely nearly anyone would prefer a game chair that is explicitly designed for ergonomic comfort and performance during your on-screen conquests. A sound rocker game chair would have been an exquisite luxury for me back then with its augmented audio capacities and back and forth means of calming your anxieties. A wireless rocker game chair might have been a safer option for me due to my continuing propensity to jump up and around as LaDainian Tomlinson bounces into the end zone over and over. Classic game chairs also give you the freedom to locate yourself as close to the screen as you like, and evolution game chairs feature a built-in lap front controller stand. How cool is that!

I remember thinking nothing could touch my NFL bean bagger – Man, us generation X types really got the short end of the stick on this one.

GO BOLTS!!