I don’t know about anyone else but my Labor Day weekend has absolutely sucked. What I envisioned versus reality went so far afield that I scarcely know where to start.
Heading into the weekend it was all laid out just right. Everything was in place. Head to Pittsburgh at a reasonable hour in the morning, see my friends, tailgate and drink most of the day. Head in a little early to the stadium to welcome the Paul Chryst era.
Figured on a sloppy win, as the team gets its feet wet with yet another new coaching staff. That YSU might battle, Pitt might look shaky at times, but the outcome never truly in doubt. Back out to the lot, have a drink while traffic let out and optimistically speculate on the good that was seen. Get back to where we all crash — our friend’s place on the South Side. Go out and have a couple drinks, and watch some west coast college football.
Sunday would be a planned early exit. Taking a friend to the airport for an early flight which would let me go down to Central Ohio to pick up my daughter who was spending the weekend with her grandmother. Get back home before noon and have enough time to do some homebrewing and make dinner.
So much for most of that.
The game started late. We didn’t get in, even with that until right before kickoff due to some other things.
The game itself was a debacle, and possibly more stunning and demoralizing than any game since losing to USF under Walt Harris. So depressing that we couldn’t even drag our asses to a bar for a drink after we got back to the South Side. That has never happened before.
Regardless of the game. Regardless of how bad some of the beatdowns have been in the past 10 years, or how late. If it was a night game and we were all there for an overnighter, we always would go out for at least a drink. Instead, we just sat around our friend’s place. Kind of watching the Toledo-Arizona and Arkanasas St.-Oregon games, but not really. Not even wasting the effort or energy on a beer or bourbon.
Get my friend to the airport the next morning and retrieve my daughter from Zaneseville, Ohio. The engine cuts in Cambridge. The only luck was I was popping off of I-70 to refill when it happened. I had enough inertia to drift through the exit ramp and right into a Pilot travel center. My mother-in-law retrieved my daughter and I got to spend the next 4+ hours waiting.
My father-in-law pulled in some favors to actually get someone to check and fix the car that day (coil in the engine went). By the time it was all said and done, I didn’t get home until nearly 10 pm.
I’ve been in no hurry to return to consciousness today. Recap, and other crap coming later.