“I Can’t Get
No, No Satisfaction, But I Try, and I Try”…
Officer Lee Groinman… That’s Right, Washington’s Most Anticipatory Cop…
I was gonna
say ‘Most Devastated, or Most Depressed’ but screw that…
The oregun ‘refuse to win
Now understand this, now let me make this
perfectly clear. I left Husky Stadium in a bigger funk than you. Understand
that…but you never let anybody know the funk you’re in...nobody, give no
satisfaction. Put it in storage….
‘A hey hey hey, that’s a-what I say…’
Now I had a ‘W’ against the duck ever since late last
season, but once again my boys in purple come up short. I had a win against
Boise State since June….I had a ‘Win’ against Cal since 1972. Three points
short against Boise State, six points short against Cal, six points short
against a duck…
The shortcomings, the questionable calls by coaches,
the holding calls, the ones called on us, the ones not called on them…
“If not for bad luck…”
Now that folks is three
losses by a total of nine points.
We beat SC by
five. Now we got Arizona on Halloween night...The 666th
anniversary of Halloween…
The numbers. Might better run this by Patrick Thrapp.
The 3, the 2, the 6. Three and six, it’s making me sick...
So Stanford, this Saturday night is the wild card….
Lose by 3 at BSU. -3
Lose by 6 against Cal -6
Win by 5 at SC. + 5 (Sark Fired) the jack…
Lose by 6 against duck…
-3, -6, +5, -6, = -10.
-10 divided by 4 is -2.5, which is precisely what we
missed the tying field goal against Boise State by…
So now here we are at the midway point of the season.
Back to square one…Gotta get those three and six point numerals to fall in
Call it logic. ‘Steely Dan’ wrote a song about it:
Logic’. It fits…The Husky Offensive
Coordinator, Jonathan Smith is said to love it…you heard it here first
Makes no sense to me either,
but that sideline pass will surely work,
Ya’ know, I gotta tell ya’ this folks, walking out of
Husky Stadium last Saturday night was nasty. I’d like to come up with some
high-falutin’ fancy pants term, but screw that, it just blew gaskets…I
wished it was raining like in the first half, when the Huskies had the ball,
I Can’t Get No, No Satisfaction…
In a glimpse in the late evening mist, my mind’s eye
seemed to catch an image of Thomas Paine, he of the famous “These are the
times that try men’s souls…” quote. He was standing next to the statue of
‘Dub’s’. Maybe trying to get Dub’s to ‘shake’…My mind’s eye may have been
I got separated from my buddies about a 200m sprint
from the Mountlake Bridge. I was walking alone. I needed to be alone…About
mid-span across that bridge, and leaning against the railing were a couple
of young male duck fans. Seeing that I was alone they thought they’d get
smart. With a smirk on their faces, they were about to spew something,
something classy I’m sure, ya’ see, I’d been here before…heard it all
“It’s a long way down fella’s, if you can’t fly, you
better damn well know how to swim…”
Now I’d have been glad to have gone over that railing
with them, I didn’t really care at this point…but the water was getting
cold, now that it’s October…
“Geez Mister, we were just gonna offer you a victory
toke, like weed is legal here now, like wow, chill...”
The both of them liars. Even in a dark moonless
night, I can spot a liar from about three feet away, which if you divide by
three, is about what we missed that field goal by at Boise State…
In a heightened state of awareness now, it all became
The three inch missed field goal at Boise State,
times a penalty and a sack. 3X2=6.
Two six point losses…Cal and the duck.
So now I’m thinking of taking up a new career.
Numerology. I think I have a knack at this new-fangled bedazzlement…I’m
gonna call coach Petersen too, gonna tell him to call off that sideline
pass…After six games, that play has netted two inches, six divided by two
equals three…it all fits..
So the two young ducks on the Mountlake Bridge come
back into focus. My fog has lifted…
“You okay mister? We thought you were getting
“Who you puke green and piss yellow PUNKS calling WEIRDO LIKE!!”
I make it back to my car. The last time I looked, the
‘puke green’ and ‘piss yellow’ boys were still standin’ on the Mountlake
Bridge. The clouds had cleared and the moon was casting a beam up and thru
the Mountlake cut. Those boys seemed mesmerized by the enchanting view. It
was nearly a special scene, could have been so special, without the
scoreboard shining in the distance…
In my Camaro now, I thought about crackin’ a beer. I
had one left in the trunk. But that wouldn’t be legal. I can’t do that
sorta’ thing. So I crank up the beast and turn on the tunes. That satellite
radio, it’s tough to beat...
The radio is playin’ a rare concert. It’s Stevie Ray
Vaughn and Eric Clapton doing Albert King’s 1967 epic tune.
“Born Under A Bad Sign”
“Hard Luck and Trouble, My Only Friends…
Without for Bad-Luck…if not for real bad luck….
I wouldn’t Have no luck at all…”
Yeah, it kinda’ fit, and before you knew it I was
onto 1-90 headed east and towards my home in the high desert. The Honks were
on the radio, people were not happy…fans were talking about ending it all,
giving up their season tickets…
Coming home against that starry Saturday night, I was
having the same thoughts...
The radio started playing
“Welcome to the Hotel California…
You can check out anytime you want…but you can never leave…”
Nearing home now, I amp up the Camaro to well over a
100 mph. But wait, I can’t do that, it’s illegal. But why else do you live
in a high desert?? Baffles me to this day…
A mile from home now, it’s
after 2am. I nearly hit a neighbors dead dog lying in the middle of the
road, blood running from his mouth, while the radio is now playing
Creedence Clearwater Revial’s,
On The Bayou”.
“And I Can Still Hear My Ol’ Hound Dawg barkin’…”
Pulling into my own driveway now, its 2:22 am. My own
dawg Bella runs up to greet me and her red Camaro…Ya’ see? 2 plus 2 plus 2
equals, ya got it…six...
Life is Good, well sorta…
got home safe, the dawgs are secure and alive. After six hours of sleep, I’m
awake in time to see another 4th
quarter Seahawk meltdown…it happens…
I’ll renew my Husky season tickets next year…
And next year starts today…
Because next year is really the year…And this time we
mean it…cause it’s never over.
What if we win by six? Or two, or even three?