Saturday, December 10, 2005
For some odd reason, I remember the first time I saw Idris Nolan. It was at the 2001 UPA championship game against the Condors, long before I knew who he was or what the fuck was his deal. He simply stood on the sidelines as I approached the game, barking at the players through his lips, caked as they were with a thick coat of white sunblock so that it looked like a fiend had heard there was crack on the field and he desperately wanted someone to get it for him.
So I was surprised, almost alarmed, when that point ended and he marched onto the field and proceeded to take control of the offense for Jam. Because he looks like he's constantly being filmed with a soft lens, with not a straight line to his anatomy, I had figured he was at best a supporting cast member of his team. But it turned out you could look soft as a breast implant and still throw a flick ninety yards.
This year we were done in again by another deceptive player, the Count. Every time I look at him I wonder "how, how?" But he killed us this year at nationals. Just fucking dissected us, like fetal pigs. Man, sometimes you just can't tell by looking at them. Taught me that until a player has proven how big a chump he is, you have to give them due respect.
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