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Football Season Begins | Seamus O'Sparks

Football Season Begins

By Seamus O'Sparks on August 24, 2014 — 3 mins read

Man did I have a rare evening last night. I went out with some friends and we met up with some friends of friends. Well, these friends of friends wanted to go to this sports bar called, JUGGIES. This is one of those places were large bosomed women sling pilsner beers and dehydrated meats to star-spangled crotch jockeys and the occasional geek who spends his time wondering if the Nazis really lost World War II. We got there and got seated and I ordered a virgin choco-bomb. Long story short, my choco bomb was not a virgin but I didn’t realize this until I got to the bottom of it. Then it was too late. So I had one more. Then another. Then I started ordering doubles. At some point I had gotten chocolate on my shorts and I went to the restroom to clean up. By then, the booze had gotten on top of me. In the men’s room I decided to take my shorts completely off so I could scrub them in the sink. These frat types came in talking about their fantasy football picks when they got an eyeful of me standing there in my underwear scrubbing my day goods. I yelled to them, “Yeah, I see you. So what? Fantasy football, yeah? It’s all fantasy you philistines. This country’s been in the crapper ever since Roger Staubach turned in his cleats.” Then I puked on the floor. They turned around and walked out, but I wasn’t done with my harangue. I left my shorts on the bathroom sink with the water running and followed them out. I yelled at them, ‘Yeah, you can walk away from me-but you can’t walk away from the truth. None of your pretty boy pansies that prance around the gridiron today could hold a candle to the ’79 Steelers. Those cats would take your Johnny Football and wear him like a jock strap…don’t walk away from me. I was THERE…I remember when guys like you shot John Lennon.” About then some burly manager type came up and shouted at me about cops and getting my ass of their property. I looked this guy over and shouted back, “Cops? I got the cure for them… Don’t you know that I’m Jim Braddock’s great grandson? I can belt ’em just like he did in the ’30s. I’ll knock you back to the W.P.A.” The manager and some beefy bartender then started hustling me out of the place. I can only assume that my party looked on in horror. I’m proud to say that it wasn’t an easy hustle either. While I fought and squirmed I yelled, “I got a good four inches of fix for all you vixens…I’m Jim Braddock’s great grandson…Hell yeah…you won’t piss right for the rest of your life…” It was horrible…I was horrible. They bum rushed me out of the place. There I was, polluted with booze, laid out on the sidewalk in my underwear. My friends appeared to have abandoned me. I slinked off into the night. You might think that I would be embarrassed by my behavior. I probably should be. But I learned a long time ago, you can’t undo what’s done. That’s how I’m able to keep my dignity in tact. In a world of sight-feeding predators, there is no absolution. God hates a quitter. So, you may go to hell, but never go limp. With any luck, I thought, I’ll pass out by the side of the road. Tomorrow maybe I’ll wake up in Mexico City…

Posted in: Random

The Story of Seamus

Seamus O'Sparks is the seventh son of a Seventh Day Adventist who went on a seven-day bender starting on July 7, 1977 at a strip club called Seventh Heaven at the corner of 7th St. and 7th Ave. in the West Village.