Category: Leech

Sorry Son, You’ve Been Outhung

Clear, crisp, and cold for the roll up east from downtown. Arrows pointing Rumpus with a Chez Snipper rest stop. Gloved, pumped, and ready, the two of us roll up an improvised Davis route, dodging the steep Tabor foothills and slipping through the clumsy Gateway commerce. Despite the ice lurking in the dark street edges, it is yet another pure night for the cycle. Through the Rumpus door we go. Spinning Towel is quick with a handshake, two Hamm’s tallboys, and pucks for the Brunette. Like always, she is all glass at first, but settles down sweetly. The Snipper dials in quick and buries my hopes with two quick dismissals. Foz arrives with a proper challenge, but the Barrett Von Munchhausen climbs through an open window and steals it. The Good King  and SA fall in and shuffleboard of the highest order soon follows. The Snipper rules the night, but highlights abound. Three hangers nullified by deeper weights, as if to say, “Sorry son, you’ve been outhung.”  8 hangers in the night’s total, 4 by the Spaniel. Simply amazing stuff. The EBMB’s dominant night may have rendered the title chase moot, but the rare brand of play can be held with pride by all participants. With epic shuffling under our belt, the time had come for celebration and a Swift debut. Long, cold, sweet cycling again, with ice encroaching in the advancing hours and the moon hung low and golden. Meet the Leech in waiting and make fast friends with this new place. Snipper cuts the rug with the old country. Plastic Bertrand gets us all punk and French. Jameson and something-“czar” backs puts the Old Guard in a blaze. “Take a bite of the burger.” Whiskey puffed and suddenly stung, I get sour with Kong over mostly nothing. Better just to call it quits. Toss my bike on top of a cloud of coffee compost in SA’s rig; Carbon-assist to make it home before the pumpkin hour. The other revelers carry on into the a.m. with spirited fervor befitting the season. There ain’t nothing like a grand shuffle, cold cycle, craft pint with a fair head, and food made by those who aren’t messing around. Merry Christmas, Thirsty Fathers. Get some rest and stoke those fires. Awards night is but 7 cold days away.
Attendance: DB, SP, MB, SL, LS, TL

The Good, The Bad, and the Tall Blonde in Many Guises

A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets but in a small flat on East Alberta Court, one man is still trying to find the answers to life’s persistent questions….. Why do I still listen to Prairie Home Companion?

Really, was it all falling apart? Holiday parties? Babysitting? Saving a failing sports franchise? These men were missing in action. Was it really going to take an unemployed detective like me to bring this story to a happy ending..? It was going to take a total change of venue. I needed new blood too. And some rain gear!

The farmer was easy to flush out. He’s consistent. Persistent. Above the law. He agreed to meet and the new locale and discuss the fate of the others. They would get theirs. I enlisted the help of a new father. My close friend and neighbor, Phil. He proved invaluable in flushing out at least two more on that cold and rainy evening. We were off…

We bombed to Vendetta though a downpour that was even more fierce then I could have predicted. At times, total bottom bracket immersion was seen. If the tools of my trade failed me, I would fail also. We arrived at the venue to find that all was not right. Things were different. Comic book fans, nerds, and wet hipsters were crowding our local watering hole. Geek Trivia Night! I thought it was bad already. Our sacred Tuesday night was falling apart. Rain, lack of peer support, and now this. But it gets worse…

She was tall and long-legged and her blonde hair hung down sort of like what Beethoven had in mind when he wrote the Moonlight Sonata. She wore a knit sweater and jeans so tight it looked as if she’d been poured into them and forgot to say when. When she moved, she seemed to undulate under her clothes in ways that took a man’s mind off the state of the economy. Oh wait, it’s just SA in his rain gear. After a awkward hello, he adjourned to the men’s room to wring out his sox. True story.

Even the main event was ruined. Imagine going Curling, shuffleboards ugly Northern uncle, at the beach. The wax was wet. The table was wet. We had to wipe off the bottom of the pucks before each throw. I considered throwing the pucks underhand horse shoe style. Only two games were played for good reason. SA collected stats but really…why.

She was tall, blonde, in jeans that looked sprayed on and a T-shirt so tight I could study her bone structure. I could see she wasn’t from Portland. There were no chinstrap marks on her neck, her hair hadn’t been deformed by a bike helmet, she didn’t have that roll of fat around her middle—her midriff was as tight as the cap on a pickle jar. Oh wait, it’s just Kong. He drove… He made new friends though. The first new friend was a struggling trivia team who he consistently fed correct answers too. His trivia prowess is becoming legendary. His second new fan was a friendly BBW that jumped into our conversation over a smoke. As soon as I fled the scene Kong was hit straight between the eyes with the, “So. Are you married?” True story.

Next stop Tiga. With four fathers now in attendance I felt like we had accomplished something. We could actually do this without The Statistician or our EBMB. They were sorely missed though.

But hark! Who was this rock and roll angel! She was tall and dark and so beautiful you wanted to just give her all your money right way and skip the preliminaries. Oh wait, it’s Leech…

We now had a father for every finger on your hand. What started out as as a seemingly total disregard to tradition had somehow overcome the odds and blossomed into a beautiful cornucopia of thirsty dads! To top it all off the DJ threw on the theme song to the final battle in the epic western The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. All was good except my wandering eyes as the ladies paraded to and from the water closet. We drank, we laughed, we made new friends, and we rode home in the rain.

Rumpus in Full Scrap, Fosbury Kielbasa, and Lamb Prosciutto

Couldn’t wait to ride tonight. Interrupted a violin lesson to shake B*****heart out earlier than expected. Beautiful clear night sky to ride under. First father night on the new fixed gear. Quirky route, but we get out there in fair time. The EBMB has already claimed the Brunette for our purposes. Despite my hopes, Darren the Spinning Towel is indeed behind the bar. Better crowd than the tales of ghost bar last. The Farmers square off first in singles. Broken scoreboard means tally will have to go direct to the book tonight. Martin dismisses of the lead dog and, with the arrival of the Chairman, we are onto doubles play. Favorable nights for Scrappy and the Snipper, the Big Altoona breaks even, and Lizza and late arrival Foz go winless. 1 kielbasa, 5 hangers, 2 open ends, a flood and plenty of exciting frames. Great show on the table tonight by all. Foz and SA head straight home after, but the Snipper, the Chairman, and I aim toward Beulahland where the Leech and Kong sip and wait. Dave points out a friend’s house, prompting an impromptu visit. What wonders lay behind these doors? A beautiful host, a tour of a wine-filled & hung-salami basement, and a delicious sampling of lamb prosciutto. Pleasure to meet you. Ride on with the fixed gear swap in full effect. The time has slipped so I must break off and venture south under the foggy half-moon. The two others carry on for Beulah beers and a food cart stop. A fitting continuation of the stretch run. Things getting pretty tight at the top of the table.

God Dan You!

In the beginning there was Dan and the Dan was made flesh. Dan begat Dan whom then begat Dan. All in his own image. The there was a flood or something and Dan built an ark and, contrary to popular belief, refused passage to the animal pairs, preferring to make the voyage alone with his mirror. A million years later, the story continues in large cities, small rural town, seedy rest rooms, and, as was the case on Tuesday, in dilapidated shuffleboard taverns on the south side. Already on a record winning streak, OmniDan had to go and get biblical on us, his all-powerful wrath tumbling down with godly ease on the trembling masses below. The certainty with which he clarified his holy status left even the atheists buckling to bow. Only after the game had fallen into tedium did he relinquish a moment of optimism to the broken heaps of flesh. The wreckage of his vengeful visit to the human world: 6 straight victories, including 3 shutouts, outscoring opponents 87 to 29 in the span. The string was eventually broken, but it seemed result of lack of interest in a game already mastered. After the thundering clouds and lightning flashes dissipated, the crowd, with the deity in tow, biked down through the corridor under beautifully chilly weather to celebrate the second coming at the Roadside Attraction. Zulu and the Leech joined the congregation for beer and pleasantries and the peerless glow of the patio fire. Talk of Manzanita and theater girls felt like vain attempts to reclaim humanity from the recent claims of the divine governing body. A largely necessary visit to the carts and a largely unnecessary visit to the gold dust did little to distract from the superhuman spectacle still fresh in the stunned minds. And so it was written. So shall it be. The Holy One is now 22-3 in his last 25 games. Perhaps more impressive, is his holiness’ 14-1 record in his last 15 single matches. Sure, a sudden rise of secular humanism is always possible, but for now the table is in God’s hands.

Bars visited: Black Cat, Roadside Attraction, Carts, Gold Dust Meridian
Attendance: DB, MB, SP, DL, LS, OC, TL
Cycling: DB (18.9), DL (21.8), MB(9.8), LS(17.4), SP(12), OC & TL (carbon)
Shuffleboard Overall W-L (Singles W-L) Notables:
DB (6-1) 3 Shutouts
LS (3-2) Shutout, Hanger
SP (3-3) 3 Hangers
MB (1-3)
DL (0-4)