My neighbors and I are baseball and football fans, so we’ve taken to getting together and watching games together.  Football has been the ideal gathering, because we all crash at someone’s house and enjoy the game.  It’s a lot of fun.  Yesterday we did a double-header, crashing at my house for the Eagles game and then heading across the street to take in the Phillies.  The football game was boring, but the company was good.  The baseball game was pretty dang good, but may I officially log a complain to Major League Baseball pointing out that the Phillies actually won the World Series last year, and sold out an insane amount of home games this year.  A tiny bit of respect for this team and it’s fan base would be appreciated.  10:00 EST starts and z-level commentators who apparently were on the Rockies payroll are insults.  OK?

Got that out of my system.  Now on to the description of the gang I watch the games with.

If you’re going to watch sports with a group of people, it really helps if the people in the group are a little bit nuts.  Thankfully, my crew meets this need in spades.  In fact, I’m tempted to just tape the banter of the group and stick it on YouTube as an episodic series.  The Ginger Snap conversation of last year was priceless material that I wish I had on tape.  Here’s the crew, listed by nickname.

The Clicker:  If you’re watching a game with The Clicker, no matter whose house you’re in, it helps to be a bit ADD.  The Clicker rules the remote, and has every channel where sports are being televised committed to memory.  The Red Zone channel is The Clicker’s dream destination and we spent much time flipping to it during breaks in the Birds’ or Sox games.  Actually, I’m not sure if we actually saw one commercial during our afternoon session.  It also helps to have spare batteries on hand for The Clicker, because if your remote isn’t up to snuff he can get agitated.  The Clicker also painted his home a bright yellow-orange which my son refers as, “The school bus down the street.”  His home is now referred to as, “The Bus.”  The Clicker is a great guy, who happens to be a little nuts in all the right ways.

Mongo: Mongo is The Clicker’s neighbor and a committed “do-it-yourselfer”  who often enlists The Clicker and Mrs. The Clicker to share labor and costs by doing projects together.  Mongo is a brave and ambitious man, because he really doesn’t often control “the plan” when it comes to his grand projects.  Usually, this leads to The Clicker and Mrs. The Clicker giving Mongo instructions to lug materials around their work-site.  He just smiles and says, “Mongo Do!”  This is kind of a shame, though, because Mongo is a really intelligent guy who often generates the topics for our banter during the games.  Our Ginger Snap discussion still isn’t settled.  Mongo also has a dream of flying a helicopter to Bryn Mawr (don’t ask).

The Cooler:  The Cooler  got his nickname because he made the mistake of mentioning the temperature during Game 5 of the 2008 World Series (something about Tampa Bay and cold).  He was shooshed by the people of 5 tables at PJ’s over in Moorestown and a legend was born.  The Cooler is not as fanatical a fan as the rest of the group, but he represents well and has connections the got him tix to Game 1 of the 2009 NLDS – which gets deep respect from the of the group.  The Cooler will often pop in late, often quoting some stats which get The Clicker spouting from his well of information.  It’s great fun.

Absent Scott:  He doesn’t have an official nick yet, as Absent Scott failed to escape work in order to watch game one of the NLDS in The Clicker’s Man-Cave.  Knowing Absent Scott, however, I look forward to his inclusion to this particular group of lunatics.

Dash: That’s my nick-name.  Not because I’m able to fix Mongo’s computer problems during half-time (10 minutes, that’s all I need) but because I grew up with the self-defeating, “told you so,” mentality that can only come from being a life-long Philly fan who, up until 2009, had never been to a victory parade.  Never.  4 Sports teams and 35 years, and I’d never been to a parade.  Maybe if my parents had pulled me out of first grade to go to the parade in 1980 I would have never gotten my nickname, but alas that was not to be.  I suffered through blown off-sides calls, the fog bowl, Joe Carter, a Stanley Cup sweep, and a “competitive” Eagles team that has never gotten over the hump.  My mom said it best after one of our NFC title game losses, “No, we’re Philadelphia.  We never win anything because we’re losers.”  This is how I got my sports-gang nickname, “Dash.”  I’m negative.  Even after going to a parade, and shouting so loudly I lost my voice last October, the years and years of losing have just in-grained a mentality that wonders when the hammer is going to come down and the wheels are going to fall off.  The Clicker understands this mentality, but negativity blows his sports feng shui – hence the rebuke, “Dash, stop with the negativity!”  It is my role in the group to spark this comment, and so I do it with all the strength I have.

So this is my gang. They are much fun.