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I don’t know why I don’t feel well today. All I did last night was mix small quantities of beer, something called a Solitary Confinement (a few) and an alcohol laced Jell-O drink (two; one green and one yellow) while attending a tailgating party prior to the University of Miami’s utter destruction of Notre Dame at Hard Rock Stadium.
There were many thousands of fans at the pre-game party — “music filled the parking lot surrounding Hard Rock Stadium — rap, Latin, reggaeton — turning pregame tailgates into a football party only South Florida could throw,” read this article — and the atmosphere during the so-called Convicts vs. Catholics game was one of great exuberance. The noise level and general excitement in the stadium was something I’ve never experienced before at any sports event.
It was all quite wonderful and when Gimme Shelter came roaring on just as the second Jell-O kicked in — well, let’s just say it felt pretty good. As it did when the Miami defense beat the crap out of Notre Dame, whose players were literally shaking with fear.
I was sitting in the Notre Dame section, unfortunately, which was a challenge. There was one particularly annoying man who’d come in from South Bend and who didn’t recognize a simple rule that everyone should adhere to: Of course you love your team but never taunt opposing fans at their home stadium. You can do that at home but not on the road.
Anyway, I happened to be standing at the urinal just prior to kickoff and this annoying man happened to be standing next to me and had brought his trash talking to the Men’s Room. I don’t know where my response came from, it may have been the Jell-O, but I was suddenly inspired by a scene I’m sure you all remember from “The Godfather,” when Sonny Corleone is telling a few family henchmen that they better do their job right when putting a gun in a bathroom at an Italian restaurant where Michael Corleone will soon be going to kill a New York City police officer and someone known as The Turk.
(Spoiler alert: For those who have not seen the movie, I just pretty much ruined it for you.)
Anyway, I said to the annoying man, “That’s the same thing you’re going to have in your hand at the end of the evening — your dick.” And there was nothing he could do about it other than snarl because, you’ve probably figured out by now, he literally had his dick in his hand. And I was absolutely right in regard to the metaphor because at the end of the game Notre Dame and its fans had nothing but its dick in their collective hand, having been pummeled 41-8.
The moral of the story is clear. And let this also serve as a reminder that Washington Babylon‘s Miami Hurricane columnist, Tom Anderson, will have a full report on the game within the next 24 hours or so.

 

 

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