This blog has been and usually will be a glorification of one of the finest Americans to ever diet on Natural Light, but when Humphrey comes up short — and it seldom happens — I believe it is important to point that out. I know for some it stings to read this, but he is at least half human being.
In last week's game against an impressive all-Asian squad, Humphrey got off to a hot start under center. It was an amusing start too, as he dressed as Ace Ventura, Pet Detective. His hair has grown rather long — he is going for a mullet next week — and he gelled it up just like Jim Carrey in those great American films. He also donned an Hawaiian shirt with jeans tucked into his woolly tube socks.
He played Ace well, replacing BLUE 32! snap counts with BUMBLEBEE TUNA! BUMBLEBEE TUNA! and EINHORN IS A MAN! It seemed to be working as the other team was caught off guard by his charisma and commitment to the game and his character. On the game's first play he comfortably slung a 30-yard touchdown pass to a streaking Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris. It was a shootout through the first half as both teams struck often. Dickinthe4skins trailed by a score or two at the break. Humphrey had managed to keep the team in the game against a far quicker and as he put it "sneakier" opponent. He was having fun in the process.
Humphrey plays well out of the shotgun as it's just a few steps in from the snaps he took as a punter for Hanover High School, where he became Henrico County's most prolific boot of all time.
The second half was a different story. Possibly bogged down from swigging an Olde English before the game, he went from being an accurate Peyton Manning to an erratic Jake Plummer. He went from the top of Mel Kiper Jr.'s draft board to barely looking at getting a practice invite from the Scottish Claymores of the now defunct NFL Europe experiment. (Though it's debatable if his love for the American sport is enough to see him go abroad in order to continue playing it.) He went from being the leading candidate for the head of the Players' Association to leading candidate for the head of the Washed-Up Punters' Association. Humphrey failed the Dickinthe4skins as the team's once fearless leader.
He came to the sidelines after throwing pick-6s and tried to hide his dismay with comedy. "They're so sneaky and quick," Humphrey said. "Feels like Pearl Harbor out there."
Instead of rallying his troops and finding a solution to the quickness of Team Flagrats, Humphrey reverted to cheap talk with the officials. They were amused, but not enough to add points for the Dickinthe4skins. The final score was an embarrassing 63-41.
It is important to note that there is no I in team. There is no H for that matter, either. Humphrey only has the E and the M and that means at best the semi-human Humphrey was half the team. Everyone else was to blame as well.
Co-ed Kristin, a once legendary defensive tackle, wasn't even at the game as far as I remember, opting to study instead. (Below, Kristin and Humphrey team-worked for a nice catch a couple of weekends ago.)
Co-ed Becca, a starter for the JMU club Ultimate Frisbee team the Bitch Monkeys, couldn't snag much of anything. Her usually soft hands with the disk turned into stone with the pigskin. (Co-ed Becca is below, far left, with a team she apparently cares more about.)
Co-ed Lauryn, a nice gal with solid hands, lacked focus as she could only think about selfishly ruining another co-ed's birthday party on Saturday because she didn't plan her own. (The Birthday impostor is below with Humphrey.)
Zach, a striking young chap from Chincoteague, was anything but a galloping horse that his home island is known for. He was spent most of the 10 p.m. game trying to fine-tune his tan under the 1,000-watt stadium bulbs. (Zach also lifeguards.)
Chris, a balding young fella — not to be confused with Big Chris — was too busy texting his girlfriend Kelsey (a wonderful co-ed, I must add), hoping to secure some afternoon delight in the back of her car as soon as she got into town on Saturday afternoon. The rendezvous happened, so I guess you can't blame him too much. (This picture below is likely post-rendezvous because if he had lost balance, no chance at any delight for a long while.)
Mike, the sketchy cat from Jersey mentioned in the previous blog, played hard, but forgot that we were playing football at times. During one crucial third down, he stopped mid-play and pretended to be holding a skull as he acted out the part of Hamlet, or something like that. (Mike, below, "acting" with his "friend" Jesse.)
Myself, a sack specialist, was a disgrace to Daniel E. "Rudy" Ruettiger. After recording a monster sack the previous week, I was worthless. Even when the sizable Asian played quarterback he left me diving for nothing as he continued to prove that his race is the quickest and shiftiest to ever play. (Below is me. No. 45.)
Spectators also deserve some of the blame. Big Chris, not to be confused with Chris, and Pat — two gargantuan young chaps, in their own ways — gave little support and instead played grabass. (A picture of the two can't be located because they're always playing grabass.)
Brad, a confusing young chap, is Humphrey's only roommate not on the team. He is still nursing an ankle injury, but his support could have gone a long way. Sadly, the most likely reason he wasn't at the game is that he was masturbating to Merlin, a two-year old British television series about a wizard. (...Yeah.) (Brad, below and left, getting ready to watch Merlin before kicking Zach out of the room.)
In the end it was a collective failure. Ace didn't save the day and Dan Marino didn't back to the big game. April 20, 2010 is day that will live in infamy.
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