Welcome Back NFL! Oh Have We Missed You.

Well, well, well, we have finally made it to yet another year! I can’t believe it is already here. The leaves on my aspen tree haven’t even changed from Billie Eilish green to Ed Sheeran red yet. It still feels like someone left pizza rolls in the oven on 450 overnight outside. Hell, I sat in the sun for three minutes yesterday while enjoying a nice refreshing wheatgrass and kale smoothie after a nine-mile run through the park (is what I told my doctor) and I got more burnt than those pizza rolls that have been in the oven overnight. (I should really go get those… ahh they’ll be fine) Even the rusted wheel wells of the local creepy GMC ice cream van are still caroling down my street. It doesn’t feel like fall at all. But even though it feels hotter than Gollum’s fingernails after falling into the flames of Mount Dome. The calendar doesn’t lie, it still says September and you know what comes with the September heat. No! Not your uncle Doug’s 4th wedding in 4 years.

“Brett this one feels different I swear. Julie is the one this time.”

“Isn’t that what you said about wife number 2? What was her name again, it’s escaping me… Ooooh yeah… it was Julie!”

“Yeah, but this is different…”

“Is it?”

The NFL football season has finally arrived for you degenerate gamblers, fantasy footballers, ACL injury rooters (I have Jahmyr Gibbs in an ACL Death pool this year… Wow... That sounds worse out loud than I thought it would), helmetless Jimmy Garoppolo lovers and the people who just love the game of football. Wait people still watch football without stakes attached… Huh? Didn’t know that was still a thing… Is it bad that I’m more excited to stare into Jimmy’s eyes on the bench this year than when he was a mid tear starting quarterback? Oh, new idea for the NFL this year a Jimmy Garoppolo bench cam, could you imagine all the soccer moms and dads just swooning over the L.A. Rams bench, that might make more money than Sunday Ticket…

While I’m on the subject of Sunday Ticket, does someone want to explain to me why it cost $600 this year? Hey NFL/YoutubeTv, if you want to bankrupt ever sport bar in America this is a great plan. At least you are listening to you're biggest sponsor Bud Lights ad campaign “Real Men of Genius.” You know what… instead of paying $89 for a frozen strawberry daiquiri in a cactus shaped steamed glass that I will inevitably break when Bo Nix throws his 3rd pick in the first half, just so they can cover the cost of one month of Sunday Ticket, I’ll just buy a blender and a cactus shaped glass from Home Goods and watch redzone at home for $10 bucks. Now I know what you’re thinking,

“Brett you drink daiquiris on football Sundays?”

"Yes, yes, I do drink daiquiris, they are delicious. What’s it to you?"

Beep, Beep, Beep. Why is my fire alarm going off… ahhh shit… my pizza rolls may have officially started a fire… Do I use baking soda, water or an oil dampened rag to put out an oven fire… I think i'll try the oil damp rag I swear I saw Gordon Ramsay use it on Master Chef one time... Anywho, football season has arrived and so has the bitching… Instead of me complaining about the price it cost to watch my hapless Broncos try and win a game this year, let’s take some time to talk about the positives. On Thursday night we get an unbelievable game to start the 2024 season. A rematch of last year’s AFC Championship between The Swifties and The Phelp…sises? Strong Swimmers? Gold Members? Ray Lewis Fall Guys?… Ummm it’s a working title. But what a matchup we have for week 1. New look Chiefs offensive vs arguably the best defense in the league. An angry Ravens team lead by Lamar Jackson seeking revenge on a Chiefs defense that embarrassed him in the AFC Championship on the way to ending his seasons last year, all while the Chiefs raise their 3rd banner in 5 years. Oh… Thursday night is going to be fun at the loudest stadium in the country.

There are so many questions headed into the season. Will the new kickoffs lead to more action? Boy I hope it works better than it looks. Can the Chiefs lead by their bow-legged quarterback and some newly found receiver speed repeat for a third straight year. Will this finally be the year that Lamar stops fumbling his playoff opportunities and leads the Ravens to a Superbowl. Is C.J. Strouds encore going to be Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen or Friday by Rebecca Black. Is it possible that Joe Burrow doesn’t get a tiger scratch and can stay healthy for an entire season. Will Aaron Rodgers drink some backwoods amazon remedy labeled "fuente de la juventud" from an Ecuadorian drug store and lead the Jets to the promise land for the first time in 55 years. Will Tua's confidence and skills rise as much as his bank account has. Can Josh Allen with less weapons than a Meryl Streep movie lead the Bills to another division title. So many questions and that’s just the AFC.

The NFC is full of just as many question marks as the AFC like, can Jerry Jones and the Dallas Cowboys finally stop choking on their own vomit in the playoffs. Will the motor city kitties driven by the kneecap biting Dan Campbell do what has never been done in the history of the Lions franchise. Can Kyle Shanahan with arguably the best roster in the league finally live up to his wizkid potential and win the big one. Will the Carolina Panthers win a game this year. Can Kirk Cousins use his very thick wallet as a step stool to lift the Falcons to a title. Can Kyler Murray scamper the Cardinals into the playoffs. Will Caleb Williams be the Patrick Mahomes of the NFC and lead the FIB's to a championship (if you don't know what a FIB is ask your friends from Wisconsin). But the biggest question of all is can someone from the NFC other than Tom Brady take down Patrick Mahomes? I’m looking at you Brock Purdy, Dak Prescott, Jordan Love, Jalen Hurts and Jared Goff.

“Really? That’s what the NFC is going to try and throw at Mahomes. Well, I’ll tell you one thing if Mahomes makes it to another Super Bowl he isn’t losing to those guys.”

“But Brett Nick Foles beat Tom Brady in a Super Bowl.”

“You know what you’re right. I have no comeback to that… Nick Foles did beat Tom Brady, so anything is possible.”  

So many questions will be answered this year and so many questions will remain unanswered like is Kirk Cousins good? There is one question that I can answer, am I excited for the start of the NFL season? That answer is simple and easy... Yes! There is something special about the start of the football season. Maybe it’s the changing of seasons. Maybe it’s the cool breeze blowing between my knees as I put out a small kitchen fire with an oil stained rag. Maybe it’s the sound of a betting ticket being crumpled up and thrown in the garbage after the Chargers give up 31 second half points to sunshine from Remember The Titans. Maybe it’s just an excuse to be lazy on a Sunday afternoon (like I need more reasons). Maybe it’s the joy of watching your fantasy team go off. Maybe your just glued to the tv just to get a glimpse of Taylor Swift in the crowd or maybe it’s just the fact we get to hang out with great friends, eat some good food and enjoy the sport we all love. So, whatever your reason is for watching football, enjoy the first weekend of hard hitting, fast-paced, bow-legged action because 20 plus weeks from now when the UFL kicks off and we are forced to watch Case Cookus vs A.J. McCarron, we will be clamoring for Bryce Young vs Derek Carr.

Thanks For Reading and Enjoy Week 1 of The NFL Season.

Oh, Canada... Finally!

Last night we had one of the greatest scenes in sports. No not the club championship at your local municipal golf course where Brain won it for the 3rd year in a row… Bleeping Brian with his fancy clubs, fancy balls and golf lessons with old tour pro Tom Lehman. Maybe I should go back to school and get my accounting degree so I can be Tom Lehman’s personal accountant, just so I can get free lessons. Bleeping Brian… I’ll get him one of these years. Sorry I had to get that off my chest, anyways I’m Talking about the Edmonton Oilers punching their ticket to the Stanley Cup final for the first time since 2006. If you ever hear someone talking about how sports don’t mean anything to a city or hell, even a country, tell those people to open their phones and go to YouTube to look up the videos from Edmonton last night and they will probably still call it stupid but just maybe they can see another side to the sports world. It was truly one of the most beautiful moments you can have and that was only the Western Conference Finals. Hockey just means so much more in Canada and it’s so fun to watch them celebrate a victory like that. I can only imagine if they actually win the cup…

Edmonton didn’t get the Conference clinching win in the normal fashion they are used to by dominating with their high-flying offense lead by Canadian native Connor McDavid. But instead, they won with great goal tending from their 24-year-old net minder Stuart Skinner and high percentage shots by Connor McDavid and Zach Hyman on the Oilers seemly unstoppable powerplay, which was top 5 during the regular season ending with a 26.34 conversion rate. Both The Oilers goals from McDavid and Hyman came in the first period which awarded The Oilers defense the freedom to sit back and make sure Dallas wasn’t going to get any high percentage shots off on the Oilers young net minder.

The Oilers ended the game with only 10 shots on goal to Dallas’s 35. That’s right you read that correctly. I had to rub my eyes like I was just waking up from a night on the town drinking nothing but Mango White Claws and shots of tequila to make sure I wasn’t dreaming when I saw that stat line. I mean, Dallas outshot the Oilers 3-1 and still lost the game. Stuart Skinner, with a little help from his good friends, the posts, was a mastermind last night with 34 saves on 35 shots. He looked a lot like fellow Oiler and Conn Smythe winner Bill Ranford during the 1990 season, with some of the saves he was making. With the way Stuart played last night it reminded me of one of my favorite childhood songs that I used to listen to on repeat while eating Popsicles in the backyard…

“Old McDavid had a Goalie E-I-E-I-O

And on that Goalie, he had some pads E-I-E-I-O

With a pad save here and a pad save there

Here a pad save, there a pad save, everywhere pad save

Old McDavid had a Goalie E-I-E-I-O

And on that Goalie, he had a glove E-I-E-I-O

With a glove save here, and a glove save there

Here a glove save, there a glove save, everywhere a glove save

Old McDavid had a Goalie E-I-E-I-O”

After a barrage of wrist shots from what seemed to be every winger on Dallas’s entire team like they were trying to break down a castle wall, the final horn sounded inside of Rogers Place with the Oilers winning 2-1. But what happened next was truly a sight to behold inside and out of Rogers Place. Deafening roars filled the whole entire city of Edmonton. I had to turn down my tv’s volume, it was so loud, it was like you took every screaming teenager and speaker from a Taylor Swift concert and put them directly inside of your eardrums at max volume. Strangers hugging in the stands like they were long lost cousins seeing each other for the first time in 30 years. Babies were being tossed 20 feet in the air, to eventually be caught like Stuart Skinners glove saves. People jumping for joy creating the largest earthquake Edmonton has seen in over 50 years. Grown men hugging other grown men while tears dripped down their faces like a broken faucet that eight different plumbers have now looked at and still can’t fix. To be honest, it brought a slight tear to my eyes seeing people come together like that in joy for their hockey team. What a night for hockey, what a night for Edmonton and what a night for Canada.

But that was only the Western Conference Finals, and the job is far from done. There is a team that resides in a sub-tropical climate with a Russian goaltender that is hotter than the white sands at Pompano Beach, who were in the Stanley Cup Final last year that would love to rain on Edmonton’s parade more than a humid summer afternoon in Miami. The Florida Panthers and their exact opposite climate in which hockey was birthed in, stand in the way of a Canadian team lifting the cup for the first time since The Montreal Canadiens lifted it back in 1993. To have a south Florida based team in the way of Canada lifting a cup must piss of the Canadians so much, which makes for a great story in itself, then you slap shot in two great teams with great players scattered throughout the ice and you my friend have the makings of one hell of a Stanley Cup Final.

Canadian hockey teams and their fan bases care so much about hockey and the Stanley Cup that it would be incredible to see one lift the cup over their tired bodies and minds once in my lifetime. So, I know who i'll be rooting for since Minnesota is practically Canada, and we have a hockey kinship with our northern brothers that is stronger than the blood pact of Grindelwald and Dumbledore. Also, it might be the fact that I have a future on Edmonton that I bet back in October… but that’s beside the point… it’s definitely the Canadian kinship that I’m rooting for...

Thanks For Reading and Enjoy The Stanley Cup Final

Gustav The High-ly Trained Secret Agent.

Prologue:

There’s a crispness in the air on summer mornings in Stockholm, Sweden that have a habit of getting me out of bed faster than you can say “free needles.” But when you’re still high on meth and heroin from the night before you need something to get going in the morning and the frigid morning air is just the cure, well that and a full pot of steaming hot Zoegas Coffee. Ohhhh, do I love Zoegas. I like the Forza version the best, it’s an extra dark roast and when that motor oil hits the back of the throat you can feel the jolt of caffeinated energy hit right away. Some people say, “The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup.” That’s a lie… The best part of waking up is Zoegas in your cup.

Hi there, I’m Gustav Eriksson and I’m addicted to every substance on the planet from caffeine to meth and everything in between, you name it, I enjoy doing it. But I’m not some junky on the side of street selling empty cans of Diet Coke just looking for my next fix. But instead, it’s kind of my job to be high all the time… Hold on, hold on, before you go jumping to any conclusion about my lifestyle choices, let me take some time to explain… I have one of the strangest professional careers there is. If you would call it a professional career. I am tasked with trying to take down some of the biggest drug rings on the planet all by myself, with no back up, no partner with a plaid deerstalker hat and a magnifying glass smoking who knows what out of a cherrywood pipe. Yeah, I’m talking about you Sherlock, you pompous asshole... it’s ok, him and I go way back actually a pretty nice guy, hell of badminton player. He has a serve on him that would make even Roger Federer stain his all-white Wimbledon shorts… Huh… That reminds me I need to give Sherlock a call, there’s a doubles tourney down at the local community center and I need a partner.

Sorry I get distracted sometimes my doctor tells me it’s because of all the drugs but I think it’s just a minor case of A.D.D. Anyways where was I? Oh yeah that’s right on my own… I have no fancy gadgets that let me propel up the side of buildings, no watch with a secret switch that sprays knock out gas, no Aston Martin with machine guns for headlights. It’s just me and my two-fist named Henrik and Lundqvist. Yes, they are named after the handsome North Sea blue eyed Swedish goaltender, what’s it to ya. The only so-called gadget I have besides Henrik and Lundqvist, is a watch I got from my great grandpa when I was born, that tells time pretty darn well and to this day, it has never let me down.

But for the most part I am on my own and if I get caught well… let’s just say I better not get caught. Because nobody is coming to save me from the dark hell holes where I reside most of the time. I guess you could say I’m a very “high” James Bond. Well James Bond without the fancy tailored suits and MI-6 constantly breathing down my neck. At this point I know what you’re wondering, who is it I work for then, if I have no back up, no team, no agency, or any fancy gadgets. I guess you could say I’m sort of a freelance worker that helps governments or cartels but mostly governments take down drug rings inside of their countries that are hindering the people of their great nations, or you know take down the under the table drug dealers so the governments can continue to deal their drugs on a much larger scale because we all know that governments deal way more drugs than Timmy and Billy pushing dime bags out by the dumpster behind their High School. Damn, I forgot about those two I really need to give them a call… those guys get some great weed…

Let me just give them a call real quick…

“Hey Bill, it’s Gustav how ya been my man?”

I’ve been good Gustav, just you know… slaving away trying to make ends meet by dealing weed to these ungrateful teenagers who always want to bargain with me like they are at a sneaker convention. The price for dime bag hasn't changed. Your not going to get it cheaper just becomes your on my water polo team... The nerve of some of these kids is outrageous...”

I hear ya there man… Hey you mind holding on one quick second I gotta talk to some people…”

This may take longer than I thought, Bill is a real yapper. So, while I’m talking to him, let’s take you back a few years in time to where it all began on one fateful night that would change my life forever and how it made me become the High-ly trained secret agent that stands before you today.