Beer and football V — week eleven

The game: Patriots at Colts
The beer: Evil Twin Ashtray Heart Smoked Imperial Stout
The result: Win, 42–20; Steelers win, 27–24
The commentary: "And then there were two." So it goes as two more knock themselves out, including the Denver Cheater, who "actually" picked Baltimore last week. Right. The other lone survivor (?) also gnawed at his fingernails over a nerve-racking Steelers win in Tennessee. We downgraded our cable package to save a few bucks and no longer have ESPN as a result (what the fuck am I going to do on draft night?) so I was following along on my phone's "TheScore" app. Why is it called "TheScore"? Don't they know it gets sorted under T instead of S in the app drawer? These are the problems Android developers create for themselves.

Vibrate! Vibrate! Vibrate! all in a row during the second and third quarters signaled field goal, touchdown, touchdown for the Titans. PFW was high on Zach Mettenberger going into this year's draft and I was afraid the game was validating them with each passing minute. Did I really make myself wait until Monday so I could put my faith in a serial rapist? After San Francisco and Kansas City, two teams I considered, had won the day before? (Buffalo, Cleveland and Washington—Buffalo, Cleveland and Washington—not so much.) I was resigned to losing. A. was pissed because I'd gone undefeated so far, whereas everyone else bought back in at least once. "It isn't fair!" Two more vibrations settled the mounting tension and I showed her the three-point differential: "Final score." I fear she has already spent the money.

It's good to see Sergio Brown hasn't changed from his time in New England. For two seasons I progressively referred to him as a disappointment who celebrated accidental success, made Patrick Chung look like a superstar and teamed up with Brandon Meriweather to form an ongoing nightmare. I'll take Gronk's fifteen yards all day. And oh yeah: Jonas Gray. Four touchdowns, two hundred yards, countless "Fifty Shades of Gray" headlines and the cover of Sports Illustrated. (Sports Illustrated is still around? I will forever treasure its 1990 caption of Steffi Graf "aiming her décolletage lensward." Lensward!) Nowhere to go but up for him, right? Belichick might want to keep LeGarrette Blount's number handy.

On Saturday evening we drove up to the Anchorage by the Sea in Ogunquit after buying a Groupon voucher… for the Anchorage Inn in York. Whoops. Luckily it wasn't Bar Harbor. We made the most of our eight-mile assumptive error (A. and I have stayed at Ogunquit's Anchorage a number of times—including one weekend a few years ago when G. was likely conceived (!)—and when we saw a deal for "the Anchorage" in "Maine" we never considered there might be another. Drag. After a demoralizing conversation with the front desk we decided to continue a little farther out of our way north toward Federal Jack's again for dinner while A. looked up nearby alternatives that might satisfy a cranky three-year-old. She hit on Féile Restaurant and Pub in Wells: good reviews, impressive beer selection and a decent children's menu? Six miles closer (so, twelve) to where we were actually staying? Let's try it. Oh good, G. soaked through her pull-up.

Once that was squared away we chose the happening pub space over the lifeless proper dining room and it was the right choice. For example, did you know that Féile is Irish for "country/western theme night"? We settled into a roomy booth next to a lovely older couple who heroically tolerated/encouraged G's post-nap craziness, A. ordered a glass of wine and I got the above-mentioned stout, which was delicious despite what I suspect was a dirty tap line. My fried haddock was alright once I got through all the fried—I had to wash it down with more beer, so I ordered a Green Flash Cedar Plank Pale Ale. Another triumph! I love a beer menu that lists a bunch of stuff I've never heard of and then groups Coors Light, Michelob Ultra, etc. under the heading "The Usual Suspects." Two dudes strolled in just before we left and weren't having it when the waitress suggested Harp, a lager I've always favored. "Bud Light bottle." "Me too." Is it Friday already?

Up next: The Lions pack themselves into a 98 Olds for a pre-holiday road trip to Foxborough. Please keep Ndamukong Suh away from Brady's and Gronkowski's knees. Cheers!