As I mentioned in yesterday's blog, the Pulse Man, Jack "The Body" Groot, Uncle Poklop,and myself were fortunate enough to attend the Bulls vs. Thunder showdown on the West Side Monday night, all made possible by my sister's boyfriend, one Douglas P. Wynn. From being a passenger behind the wheel in the Pulse Man's gold Trans Am as he nervously and impatiently navigated through Chicago traffic, all the way to seeing the look on The Body's face when he realized he wasn't going to be able to cash in on his free promotional Big Mac, the trip was a magical ride. But, in case you were wondering (I'm almost positive you aren't), here is how the night went down.
Pre-game drive: The group picks me up anxiously ready to let the journey begin. All four of us unemployed, all four of us optimistic. Three of us are dressed in Bulls t-shirts (Me: outdated Ben Gordon T-shirt jersey, Poklop: never before worn Lou Deng T-shirt jersey, The Body: a shirt his Mom bought him at Dick's sporting goods) and the Pulse Man has on a Blackhawks hooded winter jacket that was seemingly bought before the Clinton administration. We hop on 94 only to sit in traffic while curiously taking in the tremendous sights of the off-highway landscape of the northern suburbs. After a few miscellaneous comments on how much traffic is the armpit of big-city life, Uncle Poklop decides to make things interesting by opening the Twitter application on his newly purchased Droid phone. As most of us already know, UnclePdog (that's his handle) is awe-inspiring with the Twit-world at his fingertips. Acting solely on impulse, he decides to tweet at a young woman whom we attended high school with, but neither of us has ever spoken to, and confidently says "hey, me and @frostyaustin (my handle) have to speak at a clinic in East Lansing (where this young woman attends school) next Tuesday and was wondering if we could do #brunch." Of course, we all anxiously await a response from said girl which ultimately never comes. As we approach the area in which the UC is located, we decide as a group to not put ourselves in danger by occupying a car that is going to be parallel parked by the Pulse Man, and instinctively jump at the opportunity to each pitch in a 5 and opt for the closest spot next to the arena facilitated by a West Side drug lord. As we stroll to the will-call window to pick up the tickets that Doug said he would be leaving there, we encounter one small problem--there are no tickets left at will-call for us. Great thing to do to a prospective brother-in-law during the middle of December, Doug. Well played. After a short deliberation and a few mentions of hypothetical situations in which we never receive tickets, Doug meets us at the main entrance, hands us our tickets, and says "enjoy the game you f*#%-in dorks." What a nice guy?
Inside the stadium: As we make our way up the escalators at the 'Madhouse' to find our seats, we are all excitedly gitty considering none of us have attended a Bulls game since their disheartening team slogan was "Everything Can Change in the Blink of An Eye" after they traded Elton Brand for Tyson Chandler and a half-decades worth of losing seasons. We get to our seats in time to see the starting lineups, but also realize we did not get to the gate early enough to receive our complimentary Carlos Boozer bobble-head dolls. Who wants to see a pencil-thin chin strap on a plastic figurine anyways? I call it a blessing in disguise.
1st quarter: As the Thunder roll through the starting lineup introductions, the Pulse Man mercilessly booes Nenad Krstic as soon as he is introduced over the sound system, instantly prompting two middle-aged women one row in front of us to 'look back in anger' and panic as to where this ever-casual, always cordial, Douglas Wynn character may be for tonight's game. I make a comment to 'The Body' about Krstic's haircut, and how it is definitely amongst the worst in the NBA. Krstic proceeds to score the first 6 points of the game for Oklahoma City. Go figure. Also putting on a tremendous first quarter display was C-Booz, hitting a variety of nifty post floaters to contribute to the Bulls first quarter surge into the lead. He looked damn good running the ol' pick and roll with D.Rose too. Maybe this guy is ok minus his facial hair and self-inflicted injuries. Who knows? Midway through the 1st, Jack and I go to grab some grub from the concourse concession stand. I buy a pretzel, nachos, and a large diet and Jack opts for one of the tail-end slices of Connies pizza (much to his dismay) and a Bud Light. He compliments me with an "aggressive order" remark, mentions that his pizza was "less than he expected", and chalks it up as a concession mishap--not something he takes very lightly (no pun intended). Also in the 1st, a stadium "dance for your supper" promotion ensues during a Thunder timeout. When Michael Jackson pumps through the stadium speakers, 'Ad. Exec X' fails to impress the crowd and is showered with boos. Only to follow suit, his competitor, Insurance Salesman Y provides the same lame dance moves and is once again pooped on by a chorus of boo birds. The promotional staff decides that there is no contest winner and orders each man, stripped of his dignity, to return to his seat. Bulls lead 24-22 after 1.
2nd quarter- Uncle Poklop proclaims that he has never before worn his Lou Deng t-shirt jersey and fosters a Cam Newton-esque pay-for-play campaign in which he unzips his jacket a little more every time #9 gets a bucket. Lou has a productive 2nd frame and prompts Uncle Poklop into zipping down about half-way down at the break. This process was met with the same anticipation that Elizabeth Berkley's first nude seen was in Showgirls on VHS when you were at an 8th grade sleepover. Midway through the 2nd frame, an underpaid group of morons draped in McDonalds tracksuits come to our section wielding Bulls t-shirts like their the universal cure-all for AIDS, Cancer, and childhood obesity. They start chants, they race up and down the aisles, annoying the game's casual fans. The Body yells angrily "get a haircut and get the hell outta here" and the entire group soon retreats to a different section in the 300 level. Also in the 2nd, Kyle Korver ignites the Chicago offense with a pair of triples. The Pulse Man is excited because Korver is his favorite Bull. Uncle Poklop makes fun of his socks and knee-pads, that virtually show no skin on his entire lower body, and The Pulse Man backs Kyle with all of his heart. What a loyal guy. Bulls up by 5 at the jump.
Halftime: Two male Circus Ole performers covered in gold paint hold each other up in the air in the weirdest, most overtly sexual positions possible. The Body asks me "Is there any way they can make the circus more heterosexual? Why does it have to be two guys? Why do they have to use the splits a double-digit amount of times? And really, why do they have to be covered in gold paint?" I agree wholeheartedly and the conversation turns to who we expect to be our New Year's Eve make-out, like either of us really have any legitimate prospects.
3rd quarter: Honestly, probably the weirdest quarter. We decide to all enter the 50/50 whimsically on a team-oriented concept and promise that we will all split the money if we win (we are all 21 mind you, sounds like a deleted scene of Stand By Me). When approached with the hypothetical question, "What would you do with your $1,000?" Uncle Poklop responds:"Give my parents a check for one thousand, tell them to go on vacation and leave me alone for a month". At first, we weigh the pros and cons of this "wish". Then, we realize there are no pros considering Uncle's parents have no jurisdiction over his current life, and that they only share the same roof. We call Poklop nuts but he still insists that this is exactly what he would do. Pulse Man opts for the obligatory "stripppppp clubbbbbb" response. Meanwhile, the Bulls are putting together an impressive 3rd quarter, holding Durantula and the Thunder in check to a measly 18 3rd quarter points to the Bulls 29. In the closing minutes of the 3rd quarter, D. Rose splits a double team and goes up-and-under for an acrobatic layup, fostering ooohs and ahhhs from the UC crowd as the replay hits the stadium scoreboard. That cat can go upstairs. And to boot, D.Rose hits a half-court runner to end the 3rd. M-V-P, M-V-P chants make their way around the stadium. Jordan-like stuff for the youngster. 82-66 Bulls after 3.
4th quarter: Things start to get very interesting. Upon entrance to the game, everyone received promotional coupon booklets that state that if the Bulls score 100 points and win the game, that everyone in the stadium is entitled to a free Big Mac from McDonalds. And at 82 after 3 quarters, the Bulls look like a lock. Still reeling from his poorly approached concession stand trip in the 1st quarter, The Body becomes rejuvenated by the thought of two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce,cheese, pickles and onions all on a sesame-seed bun. All four of us conceive the plan that due to The Body's excitement, we will all donate our free Big Macs to The Body's extending stomach. He is enthralled with joy. After a long-winded fourth quarter filled with unnecessary Kevin Durant free-throws in order to fill his 28 point quota, the conspiracy theory kicks in. Like in the magic bullet theory with JFK, and also much alike to the Seinfeld second-spitter story, weird things start to happen. CJ Watson begins to dribble like the 4th guy off the bench from the Woodstock Freshman B Squad and the refs call a technical on Carlos Boozer after he finishes a fast-break layup. They're icing out the Bulls, and The Body is pissed! Luol Deng hits a jumper to put the Bulls at 99 points and Uncle Poklop is now fully unzipped, revealing his Lou Deng t-shirt jersey. The Thunder score a quick bucket. Tension is at an all-time high. With approximately 35 seconds left, and Derrick Rose aimlessly dribbling around half-court, the crowd rises to its feet, nervously kicking and screaming,pointing for Rose to attack the basket. The Body, The Pulse Man, Uncle Poklop, and myself are clearing the vocal pipes from section 330...Rose launches a runner...airbank. The dream is dead. I even heard from an outside source that Neal Funk mentioned Bill Wennington was "noticeably upset" the Bulls couldn't eclipse the century mark, leaving the pallets of the collective United Center unquenched. Have a safe trip home, fellas. Bulls win 99-90.
There you have it. I believe I have managed to capture the essence of a Monday night trip to the United Center without ever really enlightening you to the happenings of the game at all. Hope you enjoyed a run-of-the-mill Monday night. I sure did.
Record:(37-25-0)
Now I'm done. Rack me
Frost
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