Leftridge: Just in Time for Tonight’s 1st Place Arrowhead Showdown, a Chiefs Drinking Game

This is huge.

This is monumental.

It’s been almost a year since the Chiefs have hosted such an important game at Arrowhead. Can you believe it? One whole year? It feels like eons ago. Take yourself back … where were you? What were you doing? Were you wearing something totally unfashionable? Were you drunk? Yeah, you were probably drunk.

Let’s set the mood. It was a frigid January day. The murderously stabby Baltimore Ravens were in town. Kansas City was a 4-seed, hosting their first playoff game since failing to punt in 2003’s debacle against the Indianapolis Colts.  The surprise AFC West Champions were riding the wave of an efficient Matt Cassel and an epic running game. Expectations were astronomical.

And then, like an octogenarian who indulges in too much delicious Christmas goose, Todd Haley’s squad shat all over themselves. I needn’t remind you of what happened, but I will: Cassel sucked, the defense bended AND broke, and when all was said and done, the Ravens walked out of Kansas City victorious.

But this time, it’s different. All expectations were grounded when stud-pony Jamaal Charles was lost for the year, along with standout tight-end Tony Moeaki and blossoming young safety Eric Berry. The Chiefs started out slow, like a fat kid in a sack race, but all of the sudden, there’s something to play for. First place is on the line. And yeah, I get it, it’s early… even if somehow the Chiefs manage to pull this off, there’s a lot of season left to protect a first place lead, with home games against the Steelers and the Packers, and treacherous travels to New England, Chicago and New York (Jets).

So let’s embrace this while we can, piss into the wind of reality, and pretend for one glorious Halloween night– a time well suited for masquerading—that the Chiefs can be competitors. Oh, and while we’re doing it, let’s play a fucking drinking game, alright?

The rules are simple: Follow the rules. What I say goes. No substitutions allowed.

Announcers/Crowd:

 

• Anytime Mike Tirico, Jon Gruden and/or Ron Jaworski reference Kansas City barbecue, take a shot.

 

• If any one of the above-referenced individuals confuses Kansas with Missouri, take two shots. Of bourbon.

 

• During a crowd shot, if you see any coworkers—past or present—drink a Belgium beer for 10 seconds.

 

• Whenever you see someone in the crowd dressed in a slutty _________ costume, drink a wheat beer for 30 seconds.

 

• If that costume is “slutty Al Davis,” drink a pint of aquavit as quickly as possible.

 

• Anytime the injuries of Moeaki, Charles and/or Berry are mentioned, take two drinks of a pilsner.

 

• Whenever the Power and Light, the Performing Arts Center and/or the 18th and Vine Jazz District is mentioned, take three shots of high-priced tequila. If any of these areas/objects are shown coming back from a commercial, take four.

 

• In the event that Todd Haley’s disgusting, sweat-stained hat is mentioned—or his grizzled hobo-beard, for that matter—take a shot of some really shitty teenage party drink… you know, Aftershock or Goldschlager. Don’t puke.

 

• If Clark Hunt makes his way into the broadcast booth for an interview, turn your television off and drink in silence. If the zombie-ghost of Lamar Hunt shows up for an interview, record that shit.

 

In Game Action:

 

• When Philip Rivers make a face like he just stuck his tongue on a battery, take three swallows of rotgut wine. If he yells, screams or otherwise acts like a 5-year-old throwing a tantrum on the sideline, take three more (heads up—this could be a very dangerous rule… Rivers is an undeniably obnoxious pussy).

 

• Anytime McCluster falls down from a seemingly phantom hit, drink two cans of Mexican beer.

 

• Anytime Cassel throws a two-yard dump-off when it’s 3rd and 13 or greater, take two drinks of root beer schnapps.

 

• If Leonard Pope somehow ends up returning a punt, cry and then drink a bottle of Irish whiskey.

 

• If Javier Arenas somehow scores another offensive touchdown, drink a case of warm, domestic beer—preferably Coors or Natural Light. Then get a tattoo of KC Wolf sodomizing the Tasmanian Devil on the small of your back. Don’t tell your mom, but make sure you take a picture and post it to your Facebook, so she accidentally sees it anyway. 

 

Hey—are you still alive, buddy? Okay, cool! Let’s keep playing.

 

• When Thomas Jones completes anything over a 2-yard run, shotgun the can of Red Dog that you hid in your closet 15 years ago. Remember Red Dog? Sort of? Cool.

 

• If Dustin Colquitt punts the ball more than three times in the first half, take six rapid-fire shots of Drambuie, vomit down the front of your bathrobe and go join a street gang. If you need help determining which street gang is the right fit, please consult my non-sports related blog at www.bransonbones.blogspot.com

 

• Anytime Sabby Piscitelli’s name gets called for any reason, drink a two-liter of Purple Haze and set a small fire in your neighbor’s trashcan. Don’t get caught, champ!

 

• If the identities of either Brandon Flowers or Carr are confused at any point by the announcing team, drink a 40 of expired St. Ides Special Brew in as few swallows as possible and congratulate yourself on having the same name as two decent-to-above-average players (this only works if you’re me, or your name is Brandon).

 

• Anytime you see #27, Donald Washington, and you mistakenly shatter your television screen with a bottle of St. Pauli Girl because you think it’s Larry Johnson, rush out to buy a new television. And some more St. Pauli Girl.

 

At this point, you’re either in the morgue, in jail, or fleeing from the authorities in a stolen go-kart. I hope you had fun!

Oh, and if by some chance you’re actually GOING to the game, just drink a shitload in the parking lot beforehand and try not to pass out or piss yourself.

Enjoy!