Freedom Throws A Party

Picture if you will the 2009 Denver Broncos Season as an epic Russian literary tome, a la Dostoevsky or Tolstoy. Lets call the author Denivar Broncovsky. The prelude would be our shared history, (some of which we are re-living right now courtesy of some seriously dangerous throwback uniforms). Said prelude would be contained in the amassed works of Broncovsky prior to 2009, most of which we are all well versed in.

The Prologue to Broncovsky's tome would be the epic off-season we in La-La Land got to endure. Make no mistake, no matter how everything played out in your own head, getting through the mayhem required endurance. Some fans no doubt fell by the wayside (and we warmly and eagerly welcome them back on the wagon with open arms). The Prologue needs no re-hashing. It was well documented, certainly among these digital pages, and strewn across the derelict rags of national media, ever clamoring for the muddiest of bites for the laziest of intellects.

Which leads us to: PART 1 – The First Half Of The Regular Season (Please do not bore Broncovsky by pointing out that the Broncos are not actually through the first half of their scheduled games. This is faux-literature for crying out loud. On a fan post. On a sports blog. Broncovsky can bloody well count.)


After a Prologue like that, how were we to expect that Broncovsky would throw us such a bone for Part 1? I mean, c'mon!!!

Part 1 had six chapters:

Chapter 1: I'll Take That  A nail biting thriller with an "immaculate" twist at the end that Chubby Checker himself would tip his hat to.

Chapter 2: Is Bernie Kosar Here?  A necessary plot propeller.  As in, "Hmmm, there just might be some meat with these here potatoes."

Chapter 3: Class Dismissed The return of arch enemies into the fold. The darkest of the wretched. The chapter smells foul as you read its beginning, based solely on its sordid characters, only to smell sweet and delicious as the enemy is dispatched, almost unnoticed....

Chapter 4: Prodigal Son Returns Major portions of the highly emotional Prologue are addressed (and healed) with one ridiculous snatch and dash. The Prodigal Son wears the pure release of it all on his sleeve as he envelopes The Coach with his arms. Ocular welling ensues.

Chapter 5: Four Fist Pumps To The North Stands  This elegant chapter comes down to one question: Where were you? I was at Claudia's. With Freedom. 

Some of you may recall my buddy Freedom from my post following Chapter 5.  If you would like a little back story, please refer to said fan post entitiled, "Confessions Of The Dubious Faithful".

Chapter 6: Freedom Throws A Party As evidenced by the title of the post, this is the chapter of Broncovsky's epic tale that I really want to talk about.  I believe Broncovsky actually titled Chapter 6: Mr. Rivers, This Is Mr. Doom, but I have taken the liberty to recall this chapter from my own humble perspective.

I caught this first half of Chapter 6 in my home, with my boys. Cause that's what dads like to do. West Coast time the game is on during dinner. My boys sometimes don't eat dinner (read: veggies, cause that's what little boys don't like to do). You know I was talking about how many veggies Eddie Royal must have had to consume to be able to fly like that. Thanks Eddie. For so many things.

With halftime upon us (down 3 points? Right where we want 'em!), my Aussie wife, who could not give a rats about Broncovsky's tale (but will bend yer ear right off on all things Warne, Ponting, and McGrath me Aussie brothers), kindly shuffled the boys to their rooms, and I got me arse to Claudia's.

Turns out Claudia's is a Chargers bar.  Am I fussed? Nope? Is Freedom in full control of the situation? Um, his name is Freedom. He is in full control.  Also turns out that Chargers fans, at least in Claudia's (in what is, lets face it, one of the most ridiculously not scary parts of town, city, and country -- Southeast Portland, OR) are actually relatively cool. While they were certainly grumbling as we hooted and hollered, they were gracious in defeat.

As the final whistle blew and we danced out the door into Claudia's parking lot we stumbled into the primary group of Chargers fans from the bar, led by Big Al, a felafel cart owning, raspy voice growling, bear of a man. Al says with a monstrous grin, "F&*% you guys. You guys are great." He meant every word.

Freedom goes to his car, Bert, which of course is parked right outside of the door and proceeds to open the hatch and the doors and turn up some serious I&I reggae jams. The lot is bumping. The crowd has left the buliding (cause Elvis was in it!!) and is now rockin' the lot.  One Charger fan eyes a coupla surf boards in Bert and is practially begging Freedom to take him to the coast. Mind you we just embarassed the Chargers on MNF. The bar keep comes out to the lot, not to kick us out, but to make sure we got everything we need! Items are twisted and ignited, beers are enjoyed by all!

This is a post-game tailgate party in a bar parking lot with Bronco and Chargers fans alike, reveling in the Broncos supreme dopeness.


Let it be said, Freedom is quoting from MHR at this party. He mentions that it was on MHR where he first read about the way the Broncos let the oppostion do whatever they want in the first half as they "probe" you. Find your weaknesses. And then exploit them to victory.

Scheffler was hailed. Royal was unspeakable. The O-line was revered with slow head nodding like listening to Confuscian wisdom.

And the D. Re-enactments ensued. While I like to pretend I am the starring Bronco of a particular play (cause really, I'm still 5 years old), Freedom always plays the Ref. No one waves off a catch like the Dome.  And no one scares the pants off the NFL like the 2009 Denver D. Nobody.

And that my friends, is the end of Part 1: The First Half Of The Regular Season. 6 chapters, all different, all delectable. No matter what happens in the rest of the season, you will never forget Part 1.  That is what you do over the bye week. You savor. You enjoy.  It has never been as good as it is right now, because we are in the midst of it.  Memories are sweet. They are not to be forgotten.  But nothing can quite amp you up like the present.

And presently, we are 6-0!!!!!

This is a Fan-Created Comment on The opinion here is not necessarily shared by the editorial staff of MHR

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