Beer and football IV — week sixteen

The game: Patriots at Ravens
The beer: Rogue Chipotle Ale
The result: Win, 41–7
The commentary: With a name like "Chipotle Ale" it had to at least be interesting, right? Hmm. Assassination attempts are interesting. The weird police activity on my street last night was interesting. Owning too many (more than zero) reggae CDs is interesting. Beer, when "interesting," is usually of the "Well, it's certainly interesting" variety. I thought of Woody on Cheers when he was hypnotized to like vegetables and kept putting kale in everything. "You can really taste the kale!" I could really taste the peppers and/or the artificial pepper flavor. This one needs work.

But hey, if the worst beer of the season is going to pair with the best game of the season, who am I to judge? I still drank the thing so I was more invested than, say, T-Sizzle, who kept showing up on the sideline with those weird helmet welts on his forehead and then followed up his team's no-show with a stated desire to "just burn the tape." Very satisfying. He couldn't even blame the refs because everyone watching—Pats fans, Ravens fans, the refs' wives—blamed them for trying to kill football as a well paced sport. (As it stands now, though, there's a chance we see these guys in the playoffs. I want none of that action.)

G. was in rare form Sunday. No nap! She kept asking to watch the Patriots because I told her that's what we'd do together when she awoke but that means nothing when there's no sleep in the first place. So I flipped between the early games (Vikings–Bengals and Broncos–Texans; and no, I don't remember such a spectacle upon Brady setting an individual record either) to keep her happy while she colored on the wall, on the table, on the floor, on the pillow and even on her construction paper a little bit. Well done, dad. I captured—barely—a rare respite by luring her in with the front-facing camera. That's why it sort of looks like crap… sorry for the blur, internet. You see how ready she is with that crayon? "Yellow!" She's excelling in the fan department though: at one point I asked her to yell "Go Patriots!" and she complied with "Go Patriots! One more time, go Patriots!" That's not me interjecting there, she actually said "One more time" and then repeated "Go Patriots!" Her enthusiasm and wonderful warm hugs are all I need to get through any looming playoff disasters. Not that I'm pessimistic. Really.

I was never comfortable with the lead until Baltimore turned it over on downs with six and a half minutes to go. The good guys were up 20–7 and any comeback—with Joeflacco, Rice and Pitta out of sorts—seemed unlikely. Blount's second touchdown four minutes later sealed the deal and Harbaugh, with his loathable us-against-the-world eye rolling, officially threw in the towel by inserting the fastest man on Earth at quarterback. Only then did the wheels come off—immediately—with Harbaugh later blaming it on a league-wide conspiracy to schedule an away game six days before this one instead of seven. It's fewer than five hundred miles between Detroit and Baltimore as the cushy NFL charter plane flies. Satisfying indeed.

I couldn't bring myself to write about it on Sunday but the InterContinental VaGina made its annual appearance last week. Lots of free bourbon, hoo boy. A vicious snowstorm, a detour to the Hard Rock Café of all places and one missed train stop did not come at all close to getting me home at a reasonable hour. And then I barfed some. The following afternoon I gradually ate a huge burrito and took a half-hour nap in the company locker room. On that note, here's a short holiday playlist for you to listen to while drinking skunked beer with your wife's family. Stop shouting those animals!

1. The Reverend AW Nix – How Will You Spend Christmas Day?
"How you gonna spend your Christmas?" "My god, child, I'm not going to spend Christmas. How can I spend what I ain't got. I'm going to celebrate Christmas, and believe me I mean celebrate. Nothing worries me, glory, hallelujah." "Nice try, woman. It takes money to give presents." I love this exchange, which I've paraphrased at the end there. She thinks she's telling the reverend what he wants to hear, all "Christmas isn't about money and shopping, amen," and he comes back with "OK, maybe you're right, but you still need money." And then he hits her with this, not paraphrased: "Made in the shade and served with a spade, it was the best eggnog that ever was made." She had no chance.

2. Paul Revere & the Raiders – Rain, Sleet, Snow
We've got one of those postal collection boxes on the sidewalk out front and, without fail, when the Winter snow melts there are rubber bands everywhere from whoever drops off and/or picks up the mail. And my Christmas packages always end up in the snowiest, wettest spots on my porch. Benjamin Franklin must be rolling over in his giant Freemason grave.

3. Wailers – Christmas Spirit??
More Pacific Northwest action! Frustrated mailmen, disillusioned youth and countless covers of "Louie, Louie." What's in the holy water up there?

4. Michelle Beauchesne – What Child Is This?
I dream of G. growing up to play the cello. Beautiful.

5. The Fall – No Xmas for John Quays (live)
1978 Peel session. "Make sure the album this song is on is in your Christmas stocking." There's your holiday spirit. (Live at the Witch Trials reissued earlier this year.)

Up next: Oh, hi Bills! Competing interests are at play with the game being flexed to 4:30 and called by the Q-Team of Ian Eagle and Dan Fouts. Merry Christmas!