Beer and football III — weeks fifteen and sixteen

Week fifteen
The game: 49ers at Patriots
The beer: Boatswain Chocolate Stout
The result: Loss, 41–34; Denise, 6–1–1
The commentary: A few weeks ago we visited Hell N Earth Babies R Us in search of the Perfect Winter Coat for G. (eventually purchased at JC Penney, and it is perfect) and afterward I dropped into Trader Joe's next door to pick up some delicious Cat Cookies. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but two fully stocked aisles of liquor and beer! I vaguely recall the location on Memorial Drive supplying such wares alongside the second worst parking lot in the world, behind only the Porter Square Shopping Center soul-crusher. Each of these lots is in Cambridge. Of course.

Imagine my delight when I walked over to the far section of the store to discover row after row of bottles. I could have kissed Joe right on the mouth at that moment and wished I'd shaved. Two male employees were standing nearby with one seemingly coaching the other on the stock ("…this one's more expensive at Kappy's…") and I had to shove one of them out of the way to mutter something about "When did… this… happen?!" Turns out it started the day before. Glory! I grabbed the stout (do you like how nautical terms are rarely pronounced the way they are spelled, as if owning a boat isn't exclusive enough?) and a cheap bottle of red from an enormous endcap display that somehow convinced me it would taste like an expensive one (it didn't). I also bought a few boxes of macaroni and cheese because it is really fucking good there.

Sunday evening I sipped the stout while G. missed her second straight primetime game. Poor girl. Maybe she dreamed a better outcome. Anyway, the beer cost three bucks—for all I knew a team of bagboys "brewed" it out back using spring water, chocolate syrup and breadcrumbs. I assumed it would be overly sweet but it is an actual beer from an actual brewery called either Rhinelander or Minhas. Google results are spotty. Maybe it was made out back after all. They did a good job though—I'd have paid six.

The game speaks for itself: bad defense, Brady heroics. As it snowed that afternoon I posted "Advantage: Patriots" on Facebook and I was dead wrong, the home team looked like a bunch of Dolphins out there. NFL Turning Point (now mercifully aired on the NBC Sports Network instead of the no-longer-subscribed-to NFL Network) didn't paint much of a picture of how far apart the teams' performances were through two and a half quarters—it's hard to believe the "turning point" came with almost seven minutes remaining because it should have been over a long time earlier. What a game.

The Dexter and Survivor: Philippines finales once again interfered with the game but this time it was all live. Do it live! The plan was to watch Survivor up until the winner was announced, speed through the recorded game after that and then save the reunion and Dexter for Monday night. A. and her lack of sleep had other ideas, though, and she was out cold an hour into it. So my beer and I switched over to the (by then) massacre and rode the rollercoaster until much too late—it was my turn to fall asleep on the couch before I even had a chance to hear Steve Burton talk only about what a historic comeback it would have been if they'd managed to win. Small details!

Back to Survivor. After Malcolm lost his mind and decided to get wishy-washy with Denise (why not rope in crazy Abi-Maria at five to vote out Michael and Blair?) and subsequently got voted out it became clear that Denise was the only way to go, so we were very satisfied with the outcome. I mean, the other two options? A returning player (I hate this crap!) with clumsy little scorpions for brains or a former Facts of Life star who seemed nice enough most of the time but see-sawed every episode and often within individual episodes between "But I'm a Christian!" guilt and "I will eat his balls!" cunning. No one likes that kind of player even before learning she probably does alright on that Eastland High money.

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Week sixteen
The game: Patriots at Jaguars
The beer: Berkshire Gold Spike German Style Kölsch Ale
The result: Win, 23–16
The commentary: No "patriots utter dominance" label for this two-fer even after a win. And no "broadcaster utter dominance" label for color man Solomon Wilcots after he called Michael Hoomanawanui "Oh-uh-uh-moo-ah-hoo" following the big first-quarter reception. How hard is it to study the handful of difficult-to-pronounce names in the game you're about to call? I hate announcers. I hate them all so much.

Speaking of "Huh-oh-mah-nah-wah-noo-wee," he's doing an admirable impression of the injured Gronkowski with a couple of big receptions the past two weeks. Unfortunately he mustn't be anywhere close in terms of blocking because the protection hasn't been up to the task recently—injuries and capable defenses play a role, sure, but Brady's been getting hammered. Hopefully Gronk is back this week in a possible must-win game that could ensure a playoff bye.

Intriguing AFC scenarios come Sunday. It's a steep one to expect the Chiefs to beat the Broncos in Denver when Denver has a legitimate reason to play for the win. Houston at Indy though? Sure, it's in the Texans' interest to win as well, but they've played two absolute stinkers the past three weeks. The Colts and their fans are going to be pumped and I'm not sure Kubiak and friends can handle this kind of pressure, or any for that matter. Fingers crossed.

Yes, I'm assuming we'll beat the Dolphins… the team that parted ways with Chad Henne… who basically had his way with the Pats' secondary last week… as a backup quarterback… on one of the worst teams in the league. What can possibly go wrong? (On that topic, just reread this and then this. It's painful. Painful!)

Up next: The three of us will have a nice family Christmas Eve at home before heading to Connecticut tomorrow to see a movie about Hobbits. Merry Christmas!