The FootPrint

Hello again faithful Foot followers and welcome to the second installment of the FootPrint, which, sadly, is going to read a lot like the first one. As usual the big toes of the Foot gathered their assets and headed out to war torn RFK for what we hoped would be the first win of the season. The hopes in question, and not just those hopes, were high; as we desperately needed a W to place in the barren column just to the left of the way more popular right side column that is rapidly becoming overcrowded with L's. We quickly arrived at Lunar Lot 8, lunar because the parking lot in question can only fairly be compared to the surface of the moon, only with gravity. One positive point on the afternoon was that we reclaimed our spot that was so rudely stolen on the home opener. The flag was tied to the tree, and the car, and weighted down with bags full of water and tire irons. MacGruber! This was done because in addition to the hot air that ordinarily comes out of Sanders there was a mighty wind blowing on this day. So strong and cool was the wind that it prompted Sanders to perform his customary wardrobe change immediately upon arrival. This turned out being very positive as anyone who has ever seen him in shorts can attest to. We will be missing weather like this when July rolls around, if DCU is still in the league at that time. Read on, but I warn you, it's not pretty.

Hammer got the grill going, the corn hole boards were placed with care, chairs - some functional and some less so - were placed, music was blasted and the three BlackFooters sat around and talked. That's right, we talked. If you read my column after the home opener, and judging by the comments page you didn't, you may recall a request towards the end calling for the Fringe Foot to make it out to a game. Well, my call went unanswered, except for late appearances from the Professor and Vern from Stand By Me, whose promise of candy was greatly exaggerated. In all fairness, well done to those two, but where are the rest of you? Laziano, our friend Bird's son Z has been to more games than you, and Z is only 2! Granted, Z was way more fun than you, but you get the point. Let's see some effort boys, I mean seriously. There is fun to be had with the Foot but the Fringe would never know it. And when, rather if, you do show up for a game gone are the days of "saving spots". A) this is not fifth grade and the whole saving seats thing just does not work anymore and B) if you want a spot come and get it. Otherwise you will be using your BlackFeet to walk from Loser Lot 7 to the party in Great 8! (Let's Go CAPS!) The Colonel did his best to defend our boarders but we were soon over run by losers, okay, I mean regular fans, and we were boxed in like 495 at 4:55, PM that is.

So what did we talk about, you might ask? We had a conversation about storytelling.

Greetings from the Grill: Chef got off easy this week as there was no one to cook for. He grilled up some burgers that the three of us (it's official, we are now smaller than El Norte, and I am even counting Darth Hangaround) enjoyed while we talked. Seriously, when you have a tailgate and you can't even play a game of Cornhole (you can insert your own gay joke here, if you visit this website more frequently than you visit RFK) you know something is wrong. Good burgers though, Chef.

Line of the Day: "Does your kid like sweets, cause we have a friend who is bringing some
candy . . ." cue Sanders spitting out his beer as I referenced the promise made by our friend Matty to bring candy. This was doubly funny as we had a bit of a laugh earlier when Hammer dubbed Matty "Vern" since that was what Vern promised to bring on their eventful outing in search of a dead body in the movie . . . you know what, come out to a game and I won't have to explain all the jokes to you.

Right, on to the game where all good times ceased. It started on an ominous note when we quickly realized that beers have gone up to $8! What crap! And you almost have to drink it to make what is taking place on the field even slightly bearable. I guess this is what DC United meant with this year's slogan "It Takes More", it seems the beer prices are the only thing they have applied this principle to. It is definitely going to take more on the field. I can't remember a more depressing start to the season. Needless to say we dropped this game 2-0 to Chicago, who danced all over us like Bob Fosse with great help from our good friends ghastly goal keeping, uninspired attacking play, unresponsive defense, and inept coaching. It is definitely going to take more, a lot more. Things are bad my Foot friends. We are plagued by injuries and mediocre players, which seem to be our locusts and dying first born sons, and we may very well be heading for the Apocalypse. The DCU homepage reads like an obituary. And worst of all, there is no light at the end of the tunnel. While I will always look forward to the BlackFoot tailgates I am starting to dread walking into that stadium. And now I hear we are looking at the recently freed Fred's younger brother to come in and save the day. Really, I mean really?! Fred's younger brother? It Takes More, and mark my words, it is going to take a lot more than that.

Well, besides throwing Vern out of a moving vehicle on the way out of RFK, that's about it. It was great to see our buddy Bird and his son, whom I believe had to witness that dreadful display of "soccer" as his first soccer game, although I don't think it should count. It was good to see the Professor and the newly named Vern at their first game of the season. And the BlackFoot will continue to do what they do the best that they can, and we will continue to watch DCU, the bumbling Black and Red, do what they do as averagely as they can. It can't get any worse but somehow I don't think that is going to stop it from doing just that.

Not happy with this version of the Footprint? That makes two of us, come out and do something and then I'll have something to write about. In the meantime, here is a game you can play from home, which is apparently where you all like to stay. The Foot need a slogan, something short and to the point, clever and catchy. Those requirements eliminate most of you, but give it a shot anyway. Sadly, the witty, and apparently ignored, "It Takes More" is already taken. Let me see what you've got. MacGruber!

As always, I can wait to watch the game, but I can't wait to tailgate!

Hughligans