River Falls 2006

(author's note: thanks to the wonders of the internet, this is not so much a static finished work as it is a living recollection of our weekend. please point out any inaccuracies, grammatical errors, or possible needed submissions, so it is as readable and entertaining as possible. thanks.)



Well, I've been back from River Falls, Wisconsin for a few days now, and I feel as if I have mildly recovered from all the shenannigans while having a rekindled excitement for the start of the NFL season. To fully enjoy this little essay you'll have to love the Chiefs... and words. Because I see everything through red-and-gold glasses, and I don't know how to be concise.

DAY 1:
We left Wednesday afternoon (Aug. 2nd) from Liberty. The plan was for Mason to drive his mess of a Taurus through Iowa, dropping off the wife and kid in Not-So-Clear Lake and getting to River Falls by midnightish. I wasn't relishing the idea of spending the first 5 hours of the drive couped up with Mason and Joanna, because as much as I love them, they talk A LOT. Now, I understand that I talk a lot too, but not like this... and not nearly this loud. Luckily the first couple hours were a breeze, but then they began a 3 hour long argument about which cd or song to play next, and at what volume, and which speakers they should favor, and whether or not to skip the end of songs, and so on.
*sigh*.... I only wish I were exaggerating.

We checked into Ye Olde Arab Inn by midnight, just one room over from where we stayed last year. Sadly, the ammenities are not what I remembered. Most noteably, the lack of a fridge and/or microwave. Luckily, we are across the street from the practice fields,and that is its finest feature.

We drove downtown that night, to see what the local pubs had to offer, and Glory Be to Allah they had Pabst on tap. We drank down a pitcher or 2 while Nathan demonstrated his dart prowess, and Mason began his weekend long habit of pushing money into any machine that will take it. That night, I think it was only Golden Tee, Pool, Darts, and a Jukebox.

DAY 2
AM:
I got up early the next morning, pumped for practice. I secured a handful of donuts for the crew, and after some showers and the packing up of supplies (rosters, binoculars, cameras, autograph fodder, shades, red-and-gold gear, etc) we made our way across the street.

We found a nice fence spot to lean up against as the players arrived on the field. From the start of the first practice we realize all over again just how good the access is up here, and just how close you really are to what is going on. Now whether or not I always understand what is going on is a totally different story.

It doesn't take long to notice that Herman Edwards is in way better shape than our previous coach. He makes a habit of wearing a clean white sweatshirt with a simple NFL shield on it and bright red shorts, making him easy to pick out amongst the other coaches. Actually, he blends in more naturally with the players than the coaches, because he is constantly in motion, and very active... looking as if he would have no trouble suiting up for a down or 3.

It took some time to acclimate to the new way of doing things, as I assumed it would be similar to last year. But no, this year the pace is different, the placement of the drills is different, and the practices are much shorter. Where last year, we could lazily squat in the stands for a few hours and see everything, this year we have to keep moving from place to place and from field to field to try to see as much as we can.

We focused on the QBs first, which is easy to do because they are the only 4 guys on the field with bright yellow jerseys, while the rest of the 96 guys out there have on either red (defense) or white (offense). Watching one pro quarterback go through the drills, it always looks like they know what they are doing. But watching a Damon Huard go through drills moments after Trent Green you quickly realize just how good Trent is. The word "perfect" kept coming to mind when watching him run drills, hit receivers, drop passes into a net target 40 yards away without ever missing. Even in the footwork and agility drills, he looked more comfortable and more accurate than the other QBs half his age. He really is impressive. And, not to sound gay or anything... but he really is a handsome fellow, even with his hair being now totally gray. Also, you'd be surprised to see how much fun he is having, and how much joking he does throughout any given practice.

The rookie quarterback, Brodie Croyle, hardly practiced. I think he only wore his shoulderpads during that first morning practice, and after that he just stood around trying to look like Jake Plummer, all shaggy and bearded. Damon Huard consistently looked like a backup quarterback. But, Casey Printers quickly caught my eye as an exciting prospect. It is lame to attribute "great athletic ability" to every black quarterback who comes along. In fact, it seems pretty insulting. But, seriously, this dude throws bullet passes that look scary to catch, and he instinctively moves around the pocket like he is in his own living room. And, if he needs to scramble, it looks like he is one of our fastest players at any position. On a couple different occassions he zipped up the field with unexpected quickness.

Unfortunately, when we saw him scrimmage against the live defense of the Vikings during the scrimmage the next day, he didn't look nearly as sharp. And, he seems to get a little too much underneath passes on fade route/touch pass kinda throws... but the dude is gonna play pro football, and we'd better keep him around to find out just how good he can be in a few years.

Like most training camp days, there were a lot of missing guys. Will Shields and Kyle Turley didn't stroll out of the training room until about halfway through practice, neither one in pads. Micheal Bennet wouldn't show up until the afternoon practice, and by Saturday night he still hadn't put on pads and practiced with the team. Besides that Brian Waters and Sammy Knight were the only other noteable exceptions, and it was the only practice that Sammy would miss while we were there.

After practice, some of the players did their required autograph session. Only the offensive line was required to sign for the fans, but Tambi Hali showed up and signed a few, as did Larry Johnson. The thing about L.J. is he signed more autographs in the 4 days we were there than all the other Chiefs combined. It was unreal how patient and kind he was to all the photo takers and autograph hounds.

Oh, and apparently, Larry Johnson is a popular football player. In the picture above, Nathan is holding up a visor that L.J. would end up ingoring. I'm holding up a big Arrowhead magnet, but by the time he got to me, I put it up and pulled out a mini-helmet that he signed beautifully. Nathan did alright though, and that visor would be filled with many players by the end up the trip.

After I quit being little-kid-excited about my new L.J. helmet, Nathan and I walked back over the the hotel. Mason was already there, because any activity that requires prolonged standing, he wants absolutely no part of. And, he didn't say it, but when he is sitting down, I'm pretty sure he would prefer to be laying down.

We went to lunch, and had the customary fried cheese curds. They are so good, it isn't even funny. I'm not sure really what they are, although last year they were explained to us by a kind waitress as some sort of crumbly byproduct of the cheese making process. If I remember right, they don't actually make the final mysterious step to becoming cheese, and are instead packaged up for the curd-loving masses... this includes me. They taste like heart attack. I love them.

After realizing just how easy obtaining signatures is, Nathan decided to drop some big bucks on a very nice football at a local gift shop. It was full-sized, with one leather panel, one plain white panel for autographs, another white panel with a large embroidered arrowhead logo, and the final white panel emblazened with the Chiefs name and notable moments in the teams history. It would prove to be a sound investment.

DAY 2
PM:
I told you Herm was athletic... just check out this picture of him tossing passes in some drill that I'll never understand.

When first arriving at this practice, Nathan and I were walking around the facility, trying to guess which of the 4 fields would give us the best point of view. I saw some lonely bleachers with just one dude on them, and I thought by sitting there I'd get a good view of some of the individual position drills that I like to so much. Mason wasn't with us for the walk, I'm sure he was sitting somewhere... probably a toilet.

On the way over, I say to Nathan, "I hope we aren't cramping this guy's style" in reference to the big fella holding down the front end of the bleachers. As we approach the dude in the bright red #68 jersey, he turns to look at us, and hell if it ain't Big Silly himself--Jason Whitlock.
"Aw hell," I say, looking right at him with a grin.
We exchange hellos, and I'm sure he gets all excited to be recognized. Of course, upon further inspection, he's less than incognito with his last name printed largely on the back of his Ball State jersey.
I assumed honesty was the best policy. "I really like the stuff you've written while being up here [in River Falls]," then continued, "which I can't always say". He mumbled a response, then flipped out his superstar phone to make some really important phone calls, while we go back to eyeballin' practice.
Trent Green is only 20 yards away, and grabs Will Shields around the neck from behind, and points over to Whitlock with a laugh. I can't be sure, but I assume that Green was making fun of Shields for also being #68, because it was obvious he got a big kick out of whatever he said. A fat joke would seem appropriate.

Suddenly, in a shocking display of agility, Jason Whitlock jumps from his seat, clears the bottom bleacher, and tosses his phone to the ground, letting loose a barrage of F* bombs. He was hopping around like the clown he is for an extended period of time, while Nathan and I sat with mouths agape now realizing just how round this fat ass really is. I swear he can't be but like 5'9" tops, making him about as wide as he is tall. He was way more ridiculous and repulsive in person than I could've ever imagined.
He looked at us, phone still laying in the grass mid-conversation, and hollered out, "did you see that thing... he looked right at me!"
We just laughed at his performance, and I said "is somebody still on there," nodding towards the phone. He picked it up, and sure enough somebody sat patiently listening to the big moron spout of at least a half-dozen "motherf*ers" in a matter of seconds.
Whitlock puts phone-to-ear, now pacing about as if he is scared to sit back down, and reveals to the mystery caller that a grasshopper was the catalyst for his hissy fit. Again, he is a big joke. And I mean "BIG". But, despite his 350 pound disadvantage, the small critter one the battle that day.

Surprisingly, there was another big dude there, only this one was stalking the sidelines "big" in a positive way instead of a Whitlock way. Neith Smith was there the entire weekend, patting guys on the back, smiling big, talking to all sorts of staff and players, and curiously enough, scribbling down notes in a little notebook from his back pocket.
Initially, I thought he was just there to be around the game, then after seeing him AGAIN in Mankato, Minnesota for the Vikings scrimmage, I garnered my own theory. Knowing he is involved with the KC Brigade in some sort of front office capacity, I think maybe he was getting to know some of the fringe players who may not make the cut in the fall. Maybe by getting to know them personally and athletically, he thinks he's getting an upperhand on his AFL advesaries. Or, he was sketching pictures of daisies, I'll never know.

Carl Peterson could be also be seen pacing the sidelines, talking in Herm's ear, and comically riding a bicycle around. This second practice of the day brought a certain new player to our collective attention. Some know him as "Bonecrusher", some don't know him at all, but I am confident no matter how the season develops, Kansas City fans will grow to adore Bernard Pollard.

He maybe a rookie, but you wouldn't know it from his swagger and skill. The dude is maniacal. He was inches from multiple interceptions throughout the day, was responsible for a majority of the massive hits in all the practices, and is obviously a firey fellow. At one point, he tried to start a fight with offensive tackle, Will Sviteck, who easily outweighs him by almost 100 pounds and is 6" taller, by my estimation. But, much like the outweighed grasshopper who faced off against Jason Whitlock, his mighty presense was felt despite his small stature.
A few plays later, when Pollard finally pulled down an interception overthrown by Casey Printers and returned it a good 20 yards upfield, he started yet another scuffle. Seriously, who starts a fight after returning an interception?

Funny thing about him and his big hits, when I got to meet him for a moment during the Saturday evening autograph session, he was all smiles and seemed totally happy to be there and be talking with fans and signing away. His postive off-field positivity came as a big surprise after seeing his violent on-field explosions. He will be wearing #49, and hopefully he can make us proud now that our boy, Tony Richardson, is playing for the Vikings.

When not placating King Carl's every whim, Coach Edwards could be found showing 2 of the finest Defensive Back's in the league how to play the position. You expect this sort of thing with the rookies and younger fellows, but seeing him get hands-on with the likes of Patrick Surtain and Ty Law, as if they were high schoolers, is both refreshing AND humorous.

After practice, we could get absolutely NOBODY to come and sign autographs. Nathan had bought that fancy football, and its clean white leather panels remained unautographed... for now.

Lucky for us, the Royals were playing the Twins. That meant that despite the fact we were far from home, we could still watch our team play through local Twins coverage. Anticipating that none of us would later be fit to operate a vehicle, we walked from our hotel about a mile into town, stopping in at a local bar & grill named Coach's.

Mason first suggested we sit at the bar. I theorized that he was simply motivated by the close proximity of a stool after walking a mile, so I recommended that we scope out our options first. Nathan and Mason followed me towards the back of the bar, each of us decked out in some form of Chiefs gear like a munch of morons. As we entered walked through a seating area, our wardrobes weren't lost on the large group eating there. The murmering group fell silent as we divided their territory, and they stared at us fearfully. We had interrupted the dinner of the ENTIRE Chiefs secondary, and it seemed as if all 12 of them were collectively holding their breath in fear of what we would do next.

I don't know how we didn't notice it was them until we were amongst them. Seriously, it was a lot of athletic dudes, not a one of them white, lots of black t-shirts, ballcaps, braids, and bling. I made eye contact first with Sammy Knight, and then across the table from him I looked at Greg Wesley. He immediately averted his gaze. We played it cool and strolled back towards the bar. We may be dumbasses, but we know not to interrupt a meal. As they left, I also recognized Patrick Surtain, Julian Battle, and Jerrad Page. Besides that, I was unclear who all was present, but I do know they drank a lot of expensive booze and tipped very well.

So, it was 7pm. The baseball game was starting, the beer was poured, and we were devouring a tasty helping of well-priced cheeseburgers and waffle fries. The game didn't go well, but the drinking did. Apparently, this bar is the place for Kansas City sports media. Adam Teicher was there from the KCStar, D.A. from 610am, those Metro Sports guys, and Ronda Moss from the Royals doghouse. Luckily for us Jason Whitlock wasn't present, so there were plenty of waffle fries to go around.

In fact, they are all equally gross in person as Whitlock. Ronda Moss is big and scary, Adam Teicher looks sickly and sad, and D.A. is a big dork who was trying very VERY hard to hook up with this trashy drunk girl next to us. She had holes in her pants, leaned back and forth as she talked, and was touching everything in sight. All signs pointed to skank. We moved on.

The rest of the evening is fairly forgettable. Not that nothing happened, just that I forgot most of the night between 10pm-2am. Here are some guesses: Mason putting money in every jukebox he walked past, Nathan drinking heavily and frightening children, Me complaining about stuff and trying to keep up with these heavy drinkers.

At another bar, we see the Skank from Coach's earlier. Now she is surrounded by a handful of 50somethings whom I recognized as Chief's staff. When I figure out who these guys were, I'm definately gonna put their names on here, and let it be known that they are GROSS. They took turns fondling her, and she was loving the attention. They were sitting in a circle of stools, and she would bounce from one to the next, slithering between their knees and allowing them a cheap thrill or 4 before moving to the next. It was repulsive.

Even LATER that evening, I saw the Skank again... weaving back and forth down the sidewalk before some kindly older fellow, sounding sincerely concerned asked, "are you okay, sweetie?".
She promptly turned around, doubled back towards him, and pushed him into the closest bar, following him inside never to be seen by us again. Thankfully.

The bars close at 2am, and at that time we started stumbling home. We had been drinking for 7 straight hours, and walking was truly an adventure upon itself. To get to our hotel we had to walk past the practice facility. It was too good to pass up that sacred and forbidden lawn. We were going to get a closer look.
But, first, Mason and Nathan wanted more beer. So, we stopped at the hotel room to pick up some warm cans of beer, watched Nathan hop a fence that Mason and I wisely decided to walk around, and found ourselves achieving our goal.

We each snapped sweet pictures on the 50 yard line, getting saturated by dew in the process. We helped ourselves to some quality cardio thanks to the teams exercise bikes and pushed the tackling dummies around a bit. Mason climbed the expandable tower thing (similar to a cherry picker) used to videotaping the practices. After insisting that I take his photo while up there, he then demanded we get on the field goal posts. It looked like it would be easy.



First, we tried simply leaping up to grab the field goal post. That wasn't going to happen, the thing is 10 feet up. Then Mason tried boosting Nathan up, Batman-and-Robin style. A combined height of over 12 feet, and they still fail. Then I stood on Mason's shoulders as he raised me up to the upward-swining center bar, but it was so wet from the dew that I quickly slipped off. With each passing try, that yellow bar seemed to grow taller and taller.
This was going to take some real inginuity.

Maybe it was the waning moon, maybe it was the incessant commercials we'd been seeing for Bring it On 3, or maybe it was just 7 hours of drinking, but Mason had an idea. As the lightest load of the three of us, he and Nate were going to interlock hands and forearms in a criss-cross pattern and lift me to the goal. Due to democratic rule, I had no say in my participation, so I prepared for lift-off. In Mason's mind, he and Nathan would stand up, elavating me upwards where I get get on. In Nathan's mind, he and Mason would spring upwards, tossing me upwards.
We figured this out AFTER the attempt.

After the traditional count of "1-2-3", we sprung into action. Well... Nathan did the springing, and I did the flying through the air. Because of the uneven propulsion, I went backwards and away from Nathan rather than straight up. I did touch the pole with ease, but it was more in front of me at that point than behind me. My head was easily 10 feet in the air, a good 4-and-1/2 higher than where it is normally placed in relation to the earth. Luckily, my head and the earth would not be strangers for long.

Nathan and Mason had to fear that they had done some real damage as I laid motionless on the ground. I did a quick self-assessment and recognized that if I had broken anything, it would probably hurt worse than it did. I landed directly on my side, so the fact that my ribs remain intact despite the lack of calcium in my diet is dumb luck. Off to bed.

Day 3:

My eyes opened about 8am. I went to pee, but my trip to the bathroom proved more fruitful as I filled the bowl vomit. Puking from beer is shameful, but it happened, so screw you for judging me.

We all got up very rough, barely checking out of the room in time. We drove about an hour towards Minneapolis/St.Paul to find a room to check into for the night. We checked in and immediately all fell asleep.

The plan for the evening after waking up was to drive down to Mankato, Minnesota for the Chiefs scheduled scrimmage versus the Minnesota Vikings. We grabbed a bite to eat, and made it about 30 minutes before the scheduled start. After the free pricetag for River Falls practices, we were appaled to have to pay $5 to park, then got hit up for $10 tickets for the scrimmage. It seemed lame at the time, but the packed stadium beckoned us. Things were crazy there, with silly booths, vendors, kids games. It was like being at the State Fair, only I was more interested in football than corndogs (this time). We found our seat amongst an impressive sea of Chief fans. There were seriously thousands of people there, and I think the KC faithful represented about 1/3 of the total audience.

It was pretty cool, and I recommend the experience for anyone who is so inclined. They simply ran 11-on-11 drills against each other. There was contact, but not FULL contact, and it wasn't as if they kept track of scores or anything. It seriously was a practice... more or less a chance for teams to hit somebody in a different uniform.

Before the practice began, the crowd sat impatiently waiting for players to arrive on the actual field. We were about 4 rows up, and the referees and some random coaching staff from both squads were milling about. Well, a Head-Linesman (#26) was standing with his back towards us during the quiet moments before the scrimmage began. Having just seen an ESPN story about the new zebra stripes, I took advantage of the low volume and shouted out, "those are some fancy stripes, ref!"
I expected no response from a profession of stoic old men. But, to my surprise, he nodded his head, and lifted a thumbs-up. I was pleased.
I was even MORE pleased when he turned to face the crowd, and shouted out loudly,
"be honest... they look like shit, don't they?".
And the crowd rejoiced.

Tony Richardson wasn't present. So, thankfully, we were spared the sight of him in purple in gold. Apparently, he and Tony Gonzalez were both in Canton to support their good buddy Warren Moon during his Hall of Fame Induction.
During the team drills, our front 7 push looked pretty great. There were many plays that would've been totally destroyed by the likes of our safeties, and our free agent pick-ups on the defensive line; Ron Edwards and James Reed. We also did some crazy stunts up front, freeing up Benny Sapp and Derrick Johnson, depending on the different look.

Because of the loose seating arrangments, I found myself next to a Vikings fan. Well, less a Vikings fan than a local frat boy who happened to have a purple shirt and a free afternoon. He was actually pretty funny... but that didn't mean he got a free pass.
"How come Brad Johnson keeps throwing screen passes," in a drill against a handful of Chiefs, with no lineman. "C'mon Brad, go deep"
"I think thats as far as he can throw it," I jabbed, straight-faced.
"Well, at least he doesn't have gray hair, like Trent Green," he grinned.
"... or 4000 yards a season," I replied across his jaw.
He was on the ropes.
"Well, does Trent Green have a Super Bowl ring?"
"Yes," I answered curtly. Through his thick brow, I think he looked confused. "They give them to back-ups, he played for St. Louis"
"Dammit," frattie relented, "I should've researched my team more so I could argue better."
We laughed, while I quietly congratulated myself on my TKO.

Our secondary also looked like they should have done some research. They participated in one-on-one drills, facing off against the Vikings receivers, and they looked... uh... "rusty". I'll blame the large quantities of Grey Goose and Petron they were guzzling across the bar from us the night before, but maybe not. Julian Battle got beat repeatedly, and Ty Law was visibly pissed after missing a play. Pat Surtain was the only shiny moment during this drill, laying a dude on his ass with ease, then standing over him Muhammad Ali style. The red-jerseyed fans loved it.

Neil Smith was on the sideline with Carl Peterson and other big wigs, but then THE big wig was escorted onto the sideline. Lamar Hunt doesn't look nearly as spry as he did just a few years ago, and sat in a plastic lawn chair when he arrived. The savvy Chiefs faithful quickly noticed, and gave him a standing ovation at his arrival. He actually looked a little surprised at the reaction, and gave us a wave before presiding over his kingdom.

After practice, most of the team bolted. I would hear the next day that a small group of Chiefs signed autographs around their buses across the street from the stadium. Instead of following the masses, we followed the diamonds. Larry Johnson walked up to the imposing crowd, stood on the fence line on the game field and AGAIN signed autographs. Besides a few that Jason Dunn signed, L.J. was alone this time. And he was leaving no fan unhappy, at least not those of us patient enough to linger. I had him sign my hat, and Nathan's oft-ignored football finally got the attention it deserved. When it was finally Nathan's turn, he handed off to L.J. with a black Sharpie, and asked politely, "Could you sign it huge, Larry?".
Larry complied, and Nathan ended up with the grooviest souveneir of the trip:
The rough outing we had the night before, coupled with our newfound joy in autograph seeking, it was unanimous that Mason, Nathan, and I would postpone drinking for one night. Instead, we got gluttonous on Mountain Dews, Cheese Balls, and Pizza Rolls. A triad of tastiness I highly recommend.

Day 4:

Since we were in the area, we drove to the Mall of America. Well, actually we drove past the Mall of America, and then we finally found our way. We just really went for the spectacle, but while there I noticed an alarming trend. There were many many small groups stumbling around the mall. Of all the thousands of people we passed, they stood out as seemingly fatter, stinkier, hairier, and more confused than the rest. The unfortunate part is that they were wearing all red. They were Chiefs fans. I'm ashamed to admit that I was actually thankful to be unemblazened that day, thereby detaching myself from any association with or recognition of these bumbling biggens. Then I bought some kakhis for $15 at Macy's.

That evening was to be our last practice, but it would prove to be an adventure entitled "Family Fun Night". The festivities included a band of parachuters, a visit from the governor of Wisconsin, a confusing all-team autograph session, a $6 entry fee, and practice under the lights for the kiddies.

It was pretty packed, and I'll probably try to avoid this night if I ever go again. Nathan and I waited in line for 2 hours to get into the autograph area. Since this consisted of long-term standing, you should assume that Mason chose bleachers instead. It turned out, they set up the autograph hounding for the night in such a way that waiting in line was superfluous. So, although I make fun of my big brother, he won this night. Not that standing in line was a total loss, we actually were around some pretty cool Kansas City folks. We exchanged stories and expectations, and compared Mall of America stories.

We got all sorts of autographs. Mason got a Ty Law autograph on a football by order (I mean I'm sure she asked nicely) of his sister-in-law. I was proud of him, because that couldn't be easy to get, and his lack of motivation makes him a novice in the autograph hounding. I got Derrick Johnson, Michael Bennett, and Bernard Pollard just to name a few of the many that filled my Arrowhead magnet.

The practice that evening was really cool. I think they did more to impress the extra large crowd that evening, so it was as much of an exhibition as it was a practice. Trent Green was again hamming it up for the crowd, complete with bows to the crowd after successfully navigating a small footwork drill. Eddie Kennison was mostly ignored by the crowd, neither gaining cheers or boos, despite his best efforts to be all smiles and all catches.
The Chiefs fans again proved attentive when a burst of cheers rang loud for kicker Lawrence Tynes after a series of consecutive made attempts, capped off with a 50 yarder.

Despite the large crowds, entrance fee, and farther point-of-view, it was a great way to end our trip. We left totally satisfied with what we had seen, and with our backpack full of autographs. We celebrated the only way we knew how; beer and bargames.
Nathan drank a lot, Mason sat a lot, I again regretted trying to keep up.

I hope they have training camp in River Falls again next year.