Tag Archives: Boise State

I Had A Dream

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(Continued from yesterday.)

Quote from the movie Bronco Billy:

Bronco Billy McCoy: You should never kill a man unless it’s absolutely necessary.
Here is Louie’s dream:

The mob down at Billy Bronco’s quickly grabbed Louie. He struggled to try for the door. Someone slid a table in front of the door to bar his escape. They pushed him around in a little game of cat and mouse.

“Take that!” someone said.

“How does that feel?” someone said.

“Not so good is it?” someone said

“We’ve had it with you?” someone said

Louie cried out, ‘Is there not one of you with a sense of decency?”

“We’re a mob. We hide our decency,” someone said.

“He’s calling us indecent,” someone said. “You heard him boys. Lets string ‘im up.”

A rope with a noose was tossed over a beam. It dangled and swung ominously. A chair was grabbed and placed under the rope. Louie was hoisted upon the chair. The rope was slid down over his head and pulled snug around his neck.

“What did I do? What did I do? Louie cried out.

Everyone stared in sort of a gleeful trance.

“For what crime am I being hung?” Louie said tearfully.

“You mentioned Kellen Moore and an unspeakable term in the same sentence,” someone said.

“I never said ‘n-word.’” Louie said.

A collective gasp filled the room. Fright fell upon their faces. There were screams of horror. Some held hands over their ears. Some fainted.

“What is the ‘n-word?’” someone said temptingly.

“Noodle arm,” Louie said. “I never said Kellen Moore and noodle arm in the same sentence, ever.”

“Blasphemy!” someone said.

“Heresy!” someone said.

“Apostasy!” someone said.

“Sacrilege!” someone said.

“Profane!” someone said.

“Irreverent!” someone said.

“Disgusting!” someone said.

Louie begged. “Mercy, please.”

“No one ever says Kellen Moore and ‘BW’ (Bad Word) in the same sentence,” someone said.

“Is there need of any further proof?” someone said.

“Somebody kick the chair and let’s watch him dangle,” someone said.

“What if we just don’t pay attention to him?” someone suggested.

“We got another rope and more chairs for you!” someone said. “This is mob mentality, no one thinks independently.”

“Keep silent and do what the mob says,” someone said.

“But I didn’t know ‘noodle arm’ was a BW,” Louie cried out.

“Well, it is here!” someone said.

“Let him hang!” someone said, but they all kicked the chair.

Louie swung silent, alone, and a tear dripped from his lifeless body.

Louie awakened from his dream. Immediately he thought of names, words and phrases he should not mention in the same sentence.

“Grant Hedrick and happy feet.”

“Jay Ajayi and fumblitis.”

“Shane Williams-Rhodes and small.”

“Don’t confuse Petersen with Peterson.”

“Brotzmen and choked.”

“Billy Bronco’s and sense of humor.”

 

 

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Quarterbacks, Quiet, and Quenching At Billy Bronco’s

 (This is fiction. It didn’t really happen. Billy Bronco’s doesn’t exist. It’s a fictional place.)

Quote from the movie, Bronco Billy:

thIWJAW7O8Antoinette Lilly: What are you going to do?

Bronco Billy McCoy: I do the thinking around here.

Antoinette Lilly: I hadn’t noticed.

Now the story:

 

Louie walked into Billy Bronco’s without a care in the world. “Drinks on me!” he said with a lilt equaled only by his gait and smile.

Nobody bothered to thank him or even acknowledge his presence.

“I guess you guys are still… well, you know,” Louie said, “the Kellen Moore selfie thing. I know it runs deep.”

One person at the bar slid Louie’s beer on the house away.

“You know you guys were right,” Louie said. “There’s things that shouldn’t be mentioned.”

The bar remained quiet.

“Kellen is up to over a half a mil this year,” Louie said. “Probably the most underpaid player in NFL.”

“Quit trying to wheedle your way back into our good graces,” a voice said from a distant part of the bar. Along with it came murmurings of affirmation.

“This is probably one of the best years in recent memory that we’ve had really good depth at quarterback,” Louie said. “Hedrick had a strong year last year. Hedrick to Miller may be the ticket this year. Finley will be nothing but stronger this year. He’s had a year in the system and has talent, great vision, and poise. That Stewart kid put up some decent numbers in junior college. I know it’s a long way from there to here, but he’s got something on the ball. He’s a stout kid; looks like he can take a licking and keep on ticking.”

“Yeah,” someone said, “whatever.”

“We got that Ogle kid from Florida coming our way,” Louie said. “We’re doing pretty good down there. The state has a lot of talent. That kid reminds me of Ben Rothlisberger.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Someone skeptically said.

“Then we got that Rypien kid coming in,” Louie said. “That’s a lot of talent and competition for one spot. That’s what makes good teams; the competition within the team for the same spot.”

The only thing heard was some clearing their throats, maybe even a cricket.

“What kind of kid do you think Harsin was in his quarterbacking days at Boise?” Louie said. “Anybody remember.”

“Nice try,” a voice said muffled by a glass being tipped to their mouth.

Louie took a gulp of his beer and sat it down half full. “Well I’m going to go. Haven’t heard much out of you guys lately and just thought I’d check in and see how things are. See ya later.”

As Louie rose from his stool he called out, “Go Broncos!” (Normally it brings a “Go Broncos!” in return by at least a half dozen.)

All was quiet, so quiet the sound of gulping beer was heard up and down the bar.

One person at the end of the bar said to Louie as he was about to leave, “Thanks for the beer, Louie. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Louie said. “I had a dream the other night.”

“What was it about?”

“Not in here,” Louie said. “Let’s step outside.”

(Continued tomorrow.)

 

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Look At Me, The Skeptic

Mind Reader

Who’s the last person you saw before reading this prompt? Whether it’s a family member, a coworker, or a total stranger, write a post about what that person is thinking right now.

I looked in the mirror just after waking up. Me, that’s the person I saw.

I frequently post on a sports blog OBNUG. This week the writers, who manage the blog, started a numerical countdown for each player. It started with number 99. It’s about a player named Antoine Turner. He has an incredible story of how he found his way onto the Boise State Broncos football team. Here is the link to his story.

I’m skeptical of at least parts of the story. I posted as much on the comments section of the story on OBNUG.

“Caution: I want this all to be true, but a healthy dose of skepticism is good. Now you can hate what I’ve posted.”

I often find my way to the doghouse with the regular folks who post. I try to be funny, fair, and honest. It’s not always appreciated. I’m likely to appear in the doghouse again.

I think skepticism helps us grow. It may not always be appreciated. Skeptics are often wrong. But that’s me.

Here is my short story for the day, Part 3 of Romancing Ted.

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The Second Amendment Shoot-Out At Billy Bronco’s

thR310JV1FIt was a slow week at Billy Bronco’s.

Last week there was a shooting. There was an argument about gun control.

Three guy came into the bar, Joe, Hank, and Pete.

After the argument their views changed dramatically.

Joe said he didn’t think guns should be in the hands of private citizens.

Hank immediately began quoting the second amendment. Of course, Joe said that was open to interpretation.

Pete didn’t care one way or another so Joe and Hank asked Pete to be the arbiter. They presented their arguments with passion and reason. So much so that Pete could not declare one the winner over the other.

“You are both my friends,” Pete said. “Your arguments are persuasive and articulated well. I just can’t make up my mind.”

“What do you mean you can’t make up your mind?” Joe said inches from Pete’s face.

“I mean what I said,” Pete said backing away.

“You’re a coward not to take a stand,” Hank said backing Pete off his stool.

“That is my stand,” Pete said. “It pleases no one.”

Hank reached inside Joe’s coat and pulled out his concealed handgun. Hank fired one round through Pete’s foot.

Pete screamed. “You idiot! You argued for gun control!”

“Yes!” Hank said. “To keep guns out of the hands of idiots like me.”

The police and rescue squad were called.

Joe was arrested for carrying a weapon without a permit. Hank was arrested for discharging the weapon and shooting Pete. Pete was taken to the hospital, treated, and released.

I has been six months sense the shooting. Pete walks with a limp and carries .45. He swears if his sees Joe or Hank he’s going to put a bullet through their foot.

 

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Subliminal Messaging At Billy Bronco’s

Subliminal Messaging At Billy Bronco’sth[9]

Kevan, in order to keep the conversation rolling about the new Boise State coaches, made a roster of them on a chalk board that hung over the back bar. The chalk board usually consist of what is the kitchen that’s about to go bad. Instead the list of coaches were printed on the board. “Mike Sanford, Marcel Yates, Kent Riddle, Steve Caldwell Junior Adams, And Avolos, Julius Brown, Elijah Drinkwitz, Scott Huff, and oh yeah, Bryan Harsin.

Well, all was going fine. There were good and lively discussions, no disagreements, and the beer flowed, which made Kevan happy.

Kevan made a check mark beside the coach to be discussed for the night. He breezed right through the first five and then slipped all the way down to Scott Huff. This did not escape the notice of Dawg Breath.

Then one night it happened the most furious exchange at Billy Brono’s since “taste great, less filling.”

“Kev, man,” Dawg Breath said. “You can’t do that.”

“What?” Kev said.

“You can’t go out of order,” Dawg Breath said. “It’s list. Lists have to go in order.”

This guy named TommyT from nowhere, his face buried in the mug of beer. With his face still dripping of suds said, “Hey, if it ain’t numbered ya don’t have to go in order.”

Dawg Breath was in no mood to give in. “It’s still a list. You start at the top and work your way to the bottom, one name at a time. That’s the only way.”

It wasn’t this quiet since Broztman’s missed field goal at Nevada.

“Whoa,” Louie said. “Let’s say you go to a grocery and you make a list of what you need; milk, beer, eggs, chips, salad dressing, ham, beer, and laundry detergent. You don’t get the milk and go over and get the beer because it’s next. You pick up the eggs because it’s close. You don’t crisscross and zigzag all over the store to get things in the order you have them on the list. It’s what ever comes next. Doesn’t that make sense?”

At this point Kevan is happy for somebody defending him bypassing a couple of coaches on the list, but more importantly another round of beers had been ordered to further fuel the discussion.

Dawg Breath is not one to toss in the towel. He tossed down the bottom of his glass and motioned for Kevan to replenish. Then he retorted, “What good is a list if you don’t go in order.”

“The purpose is to get everything done,” Louie said, “Not necessarily in order.”

Dawg Breath completely ignored the counter argument. Something said earlier wrestled his attention. “Wait a minute some one said zigzag. Why are we talking about pot?”

“Because it’s legal in Colorado and Washington,” some guy named Blue said.

The next thing you know the whole place is into a discussion about marijuana legalization.

Kevan filled Dawg Breath’s tankard and along with everyone else whose a part of the discussion. Kevan smiles because he knows where now the discussion is going. It now has left football. He’s in for a long night of drawing beer and wrangling about natural selection and quantum physics – and more beer.

Kevan started to draw another one for Louie.

“No thanks,” Louie says.

“Shhh,” Kevan said. “It’s on the house.”

“Some other time,” Louie said.

“I noticed when you gave the example of the list you mentioned beer twice,” Kevan said.

“It’s called subliminal suggestion messaging and positive reinforcement,” Louie said.

“I think it’s working,” Kevan said. “Dawg Breath’s glass is empty already.”

 

 

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The Production of “Hair” At Billy Bronco’s

Daily Prompt: She Drives Me Crazy

It makes me crazy when people wear their shoes in my house. What habit/act drives you crazy? How do you prevent it from happening?

Long ago I’ve gotten over things that drive me crazy. Once you realize that there are a whole lot of things that you do to drive others crazy…

When I was a teenager a bachelor uncle lived with us. His eating habits were intolerable. To say he ate like a pig would be an understatement. After asking him on a couple of occasions to be less noisy and more mannerly with no improvement I ate elsewhere.

As in Krista’s situation if there are people who do not remove their shoes when entering your home and you have asked them, simply stop inviting them. If they should ask why they are no longer invited politely tell them why.

Here is a short story about a barroom discussion down at Billy Bronco’s, a mythical bar where all the Boise State faithful drink beer, talk Boise State football, talk sports, and drink beer. And they don’t remove their shoes. In fact there are some who don’t wear shoes.

The Production of Hair At Billy Bronco’s

Jerry Lucas

Jerry Lucas

Louie brought pictures of five old basketball players to Billy Bronco’s the other night. He laid them on the bar without so much as a word. There was some passing interest, but nothing to amount to anything.

Finally Sailor Sam said, “Louie, why on earth did you bring those old pictures in here?”

Louie replied, “Can anybody name them?”

“Hank Luisetti is one of them?” Dawg Breath said.

Bob Pettit

Bob Pettit

“Did you just make that up or do you really know who he is?” Sailor Sam said.

“I’m from Oregon,” Dawg Breath said, “and my grandpa said Luisetti was one of the first guys to use the one handed shot. It was the beginning of the jump shot.”

“There’s always been a jump shot,” Kevan, the bartender said, “Right?”

“That’s right,” Dawg Breath said, “my grandpa said he hit a 3 point jumper in the Idaho state finals in ‘55 to win by 1.”

“They didn’t have 3 pointers then,” Sailor Sam said.

Bob Cousy

Bob Cousy

“You callin’ my grandpa a liar?” Dawg Breath said.

“When did Idaho become a state?” Kevan said to quiet things a bit.

Sailor Sam made something up so as not to offend Dawg Breath. “Idaho experimented with the 3 pointer for one year. Of course your grandpa wouldn’t lie to you.”

Dawg Breath settled back into his stool at the bar. “He also told me he stuffed Chamberlain in a pick-up game in Pocatello in‘57.”

Sailor Sam spit out a mouth full of beer.

Charlie Tyra

Charlie Tyra

“Let’s get back to it, does anybody know these guys?” Louie said.

There was a collective, “No.”

“Tell us,” Sailor Sam said.

“Jerry Lucas, Bob Petit, Bob Cousy, Charlie Tyra, and Wayne Embry” Louie said. “What do you see different than you do players today?”

“There’s too many white guys to be a really good team,” Broadway Joe said.

“Well that’s obvious,” Louie said. “What else?”

“You ain’t gonna tell until somebody buys you a beer, right?” Sailor Sam said.

Wayne Embry

Wayne Embry

“Kevan,” Broadway Joe signaled. “Get the sap a beer so he’ll tell us.”

Kevan drew a beer for Louie and sat it in front of him.

“They’re all hairy,” Louie said. “Where has the hair gone today? Especially on the legs, but those guys are hairy all over.”

“It’s evolution,” Dawg Breath said. “We don’t need as much hair anymore; they don’t wear the short trunks like they used to. They hang almost to the tops of their socks now. We‘ve had to adapt.”

“Ahhh,” Sailor Sam said, “they shave their legs now days.”

“Just another way feminize a manly sport.” Dawg Breath said. “They won’t be satisfied until it’s coed and there will be two baskets at each end; an eleven foot basket for men and a nine foot for women.”

“It’s okay with me so long as the women shave their legs and arm pits.” Broadway said. “Remember some of those Russian babes from the 50s?”

“I really don’t think they were women,” Dawg Breath said.

“Oh my, here comes the evil empire conspiracy stuff,” Sailor Sam said.

“Back to the pictures,” Louie begged.

“What’s your point?” Broadway said.

“Players just aren’t as hairy as they used to be,” Louie said.

Rony Seikaly

Rony Seikaly

“Yeah, come to think about it the last hairy guy was Rony Seikaly,” Sailor Sam said.

“What about beards?” Dawg Breath said.

“Beards don’t count,” Broadway said.

“It has all to do with the tattoos,” Dawg Breath said. “I mean who wants hair growing through a tat?”

“I’ve got one,” Broadway said “It was supposed to be of an old girl friend, but it looks like Elmer Fudd with hair. Well, she really wasn’t a girl friend, but alcohol was as much to blame for the tattoo as it was her.”

“Okay, Louie,” Sailor Sam insisted. “You must have a stupid point to make.”

“No,” Louie said, “ but there was a time when players had more hair on their body than they did their head and I wanted a free beer. This place is so easy.”

 

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A Night At Billy Bronco’s

thH6YOQQNPBilly Bronco’s is a bar where all the faithful Boise State fans on the east side talk about their passion – Boise State football, wet their whistles, talk about their passion – Boise State football, fill their bellies, and talk about their passion – Boise State football.

February is the worst time of the year for college football fans; the previous season has been replayed hundreds if not thousands of times, there’s not much to speculate about on the upcoming season, and National Signing day occurs the first part of the month leaving nothing new for a beer to wash down.

One of the bartenders, Kevan, likes to toss a bone out there every now and then, if you know what I mean; something for the boys to chew on. The more they chew the more they drink. It’s called job security. Anyway, it’s mid February and beer sales are as low as cleats on natural turf. Kevan thinks it would be a good idea to start a conversation about each of the new coaches. This is perfect. Nobody really knows anything for sure about the new coaches so it’s a time to let the creative juices flow and nothing lubricates creativity like beer (so I’m told).

One night everyone is settled into there favorite hitching post and Kevan says, “What do you guys think of Caldwell?”

Butch (he’s a little thick) says, “I got ran out of their one night.”

“No,” Kevan said. “Steve Caldwell, the Broncos new defensive line coach,” (And it’s a good thing he said that, conversations have a way of going astray. One night he said what do you guys think of Harper and the first comment was about the writer Harper Lee. What ensued was a literary discussion comparing Harper Lee to Margaret Mitchell. Well whose going to drink beer over that? But they did.)

A guy named Reno says, “I think the first order of business is move Horn to stud.”

There’s some agreement noted by a simultaneous lifting of classes and the sound of them placed back on the bar with the same precision as a Marine honor guard.

There’s silence.

There’s this guy they call Jittery. (Here’s his story: Some accuse him of inviting the regulars over to his place to have a beer, but he says, “I can’t hold that much beer in my basement and besides my place don’t have near the ambiance.”) Anyway Jittery pipes up with, “I think the second order of business is to not listen to fans.”

Reno can’t let this go. So he fires back with, “Hey if you don’t like this place and the diversity of opinions go home.”

Jittery waits in silence. He seldom has supporters. Everyone is suspicious of his motives, not withstanding his comments are usually stupid.

Then from nowhere a guy known at Trav says, “Hey, that is diversity. Yeah, he gets under my skin, but maybe he makes sense this time, not really, but maybe, so don’t quote me.”

“Reno,” Clever Clyde says. “It was tongue in cheek, chill.”

“Hey, Reno,” Jittery says. “I was trying to be funny. I meant no offense. You offered an opinion, I offered one. You drink Bud Light, I drink Guinness.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Reno says.

“It means if you drank Guinness it would cost me more to buy you a beer,” Jittery said. He looked over at Kevan. “Get Reno a beer on me.”

“Nah, nah, Jittery,” Reno said. “Let me buy you one. Kevan set one in front of Jittery.”

“I got the next round,” Trav says.

“Don’t forget me!” Clever Clyde says. “The next round’s on me.”

Kevan smiles. He’s drawing beers faster than a one handed diary farmer at milking time.

“Now this is fun,” Reno says. “I ain’t had this much fun since that discussion about Harper and Mitchell. Didn’t Mitchell go to California and set the bench until he got busted for possession?”

Kevan smiled. “Yeah, I guess you could say he was gone with the wind.”

(Posted as a Daily Prompt.)

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