Goin' Deep 2.5.09

Trippin’ My Other Ball Off
By Mikey Hammerstone

When Goin' Deep last checked in, with "Trippin' My Ball Off," Mikey, Gary and Jimmy had just arrived in Phoenix to watch the NFC Championship Game. Mikey's road diary concludes with part II.

Saturday (1/17/09) 4 p.m.: The three of us wake up after a much-needed nap and start to plan out the rest of our time in Phoenix. I call my buddy Denis, who is an employee of the Philadelphia Eagles, to see if he traveled with the team. Denis and I go back to high school and I’m totally stoked when he calls back to tell me that he’s also in town for the game. He tells me about this bar in Scottsdale called the Upper Deck (aka The Eagles Nest Out West). I check out the bar’s Web site and sure enough the brothers decide that this is the place to be the night before the big game and call for a taxi.

Saturday (1/17/09) 7 p.m.: After a 30-minute taxi ride that costs a grand total of $40 plus tip, we finally reach our destination. The bar is overflowing with Eagles fans and the chaos that ensues is nothing short of a true rally that any bar in Philly would be proud to sponsor. My guess is that there were somewhere between 300-400 people at the bar — 99.99 percent of them wearing some form of Eagles gear or another. The Eagles fight song could be heard from blocks away and EVERYONE is having a blast. Denis meets up with us a short time later and the four of us immediately toast our Birds with shots of Jaeger.

Saturday or Sunday (1/17/09 or 1/18/09) I think . . . Midnight-ish?!?: I’m completely hammered. Over the course of the last several hours I have managed to accomplish the following 1.) Consume enough alcohol to kill a baby elephant, 2.) Befriend dozens of other Eagles fans, 3.) Leave the bar with blueprints of Lincoln Financial Field (yes, that’s right, blueprints of Mecca).

Sunday (1/18/09) 1 a.m.: Somehow we managed to actually make it back to the hotel. The three of us are now ready to pass out and try to get a good night’s sleep. We throw Invincible into the computer to watch it as we fall asleep hoping that the power of Papale will give the Eagles the big win.

Sunday (1/18/09) 9:15 a.m.: I wake up to Jimmy and Gary singing the Eagles fight song. The three of us, giddy with excitement, decide that we want to go down to the promenade before the game to get a bite to eat, have some hair of the dog, and take in the festivities in town. We get our cab and make the five-minute trek down to the stadium.

Sunday (1/18/09) 10 a.m.: We make it to the stadium and people are already packing into the promenade across the street. It’s a beautiful day with the temperature in the 70s and not a cloud in the sky. We end up grabbing some breakfast at a sandwich shop that turns out to be owned by a Philly native. There is at least one green jersey for every three red jerseys. Eagles fans travel well, and it certainly showed that day. The thing that I found most funny was that Cardinal fans looked at this game as if it were just some fun little “event” where as Eagles fans considered the game to be the most important thing in their lives up to that point. Now, I’m not saying that Cards fans pussies, but, um, wait, never mind . . . they are pussies.

Sunday (1/18/09) 11:30 a.m.: We decide that it’s time to head into the arena. With our golden tickets in hand, we pass through security, give the ticket takers a jolly “Go Eagles,” and head into University of Phoenix stadium. The place is awesome. In fact, I would have to say that it’s the only good thing about the Phoenix Cardinals. We head to our seats and find that we are in the last row of the stadium. That’s right . . . the LAST row. Except for the long hike up and down the stairs to get beer, food, and take a piss, the seats were actually really good. Full view of the field and surrounded by Eagles fans (that’s the best part about the nose bleeds . . . you know that you’re going to have a ton of “away” team fans in your section.

Sunday (1/18/09) 1 p.m.: The game is underway and the place is rocking. They kept the roof closed to make it loud and I have to say, it worked. The Eagles came out and played like a bunch of little girls. It was horrible. The Cardinals were ahead 24-6 at halftime. Needless to say, it wasn’t looking too good for the Birds. The third quarter, however, was a much different story. The Eagles put up 13 unanswered points and are within striking distance. The fourth quarter begins and the Eagles manage to take a 25-24 lead with about 10 minutes left in the game. Sadly, the Cards drive down the field, score a touchdown, convert the two-point try, and take a 32-25 lead. Sure, the Eagles had one drive left in them and took the ball all the way down to the Arizona 30. It’s fourth and 10 and Donnie throws to the sticks for Kevin Curtis (who, if you watch the replay was interfered with) and the ball falls incomplete. That’s it. Game over. The Eagles lose and (gulp) the Arizona Cardinals are the 2008 NFC Champions.

Sunday (1/18/09) 4 p.m.: Gracious in our loss, we start to leave the stadium. In the meantime, however, something happened to the Cardinals fans who, just hours before, were really passive about the game. Suddenly, anyone with an Eagles jersey on was now a combination of Hitler, Satan, and Genghis Khan all wrapped into one. I’m not sure if it’s because these douchebags finally had a winning football team (which would explain why so many of them didn’t know that the Halas trophy is given out after the game and thousands of “fans” left right away) or if it was the heat, but the assholes were definitely out in force. So as not to end up in jail or kill anyone, the brothers decide it would be within our best interest to get back to the hotel. We grab a cab, hit the liquor store, and get the hell out of Dodge.

Sunday (1/18/09) 6:17 p.m.: Tired, dejected, and pissed off we decide to stay in, order a pizza, and watch the Pittsburgh/Baltimore game. Not really caring about the “other” game, we eat the ’za and have a few drinks. As heartbroken as we all are, we begin our discussions of “Well, there’s always next year,” and “Hey, at least the Phillies won the World Series.” Jimmy decides that he’s going to pass out early and get a good night’s sleep so that he can captain the first leg of our trip back to Boulder. Gary and I stay up a little while longer and drown our sorrows in Miller Lite and Jim Beam.

Sunday (1/18/09) 11:30 p.m.: We call it a night and get some rest in order to be fresh for our journey home.

Monday (1/19/09) 9:30 a.m.: Up and out of our hotel room, we pack our gear and head out of town. Giving the finger to every Cardinals fan in sight, we leave Phoenix behind and plan our route back to Boulder. Instead of going back through New Mexico, we decide that we’re going to head back via Utah. Jimmy’s behind the wheel with G-man riding shotgun. I decide to get a few more hours of sleep and crash out in the back seat.

Monday (1/19/09) 12:30 p.m.: I wake up, rub my eyes, look out the window, and am completely amazed at what I see. The rock formations are AMAZING! I would put up some pictures, but since I was driving, I really didn’t get any. In fact, it’s so beautiful that I really don’t think that my words would do it justice. It’s at this time that I realize that my trip was about so much more than the game and that it really was more about me getting to see a part of America that I had never seen and may never again see in my life.

Monday (1/19/09) 4:13 p.m.: Moab, Utah. It’s a much smaller town than I had expected. It kind of reminds me of a really small Boulder in the middle of nowhere. We grab a bite to eat at one of the local joints and head back on the road.

Monday (1/19/09) 9:10 p.m.: We pull back into Boulder about 72 hours after we left. For what it’s worth, the trip was great. Despite the Eagles loss, the brothers had an excursion of a lifetime. I really want to thank you G-man and Hammy for such a great trip. Next year we’re going to have to road trip to Philly for the NFC championship game. Until then . . . GO EAGLES and FUCK THE CARDINALS.