I was within reach of two people who make the very top of my “People I hate and would punch in the face list” but instead I learned that the list should be called “People I hate, but you know are pretty handsome… hmmm yea, they are okay, I guess list” In what unfolded like a Lemony Snicket’s novel, I went to the Redskins/Cowboys game yesterday. For those who don’t have the benefit of a crotchety 70 year-old man blabbering on constantly about the Skins, the Redskins needed the win against the Cowboys to make the playoffs so it was a pretty big deal in Washington even if the Cowboys weren’t going to try any harder than I would at a Bally’s Total Fitness free trial membership.

In the pouring rain I turned in to Scalpbot 2000. My one mission: to pay nothing to get in to the game. Halfway in to the first quarter and after refusing the extreme liquidation prices of a scalper (from 300 down to 25 bucks) I was happily handed a club seat stub and club section “re-entry pass” by a fan who had been forced to leave by his girlfriend (so we can assume) and I headed off to the gate. Well, as we know from reading the backside of the stub, once a ticket is torn you can not reenter a game for any reason after leaving. But I pleaded that the club section reentry pass was misleading and I thought I could get back in to the game with the pass and stub together. The ticket usher said it was a good thing he was having a good day and let me through anyway. Bad ass. I watched the second quarter in pouring rain while accessing the never ending supply of beers coming from a ripped hole in the back of my jacket.

After a not-so-elaborate scheme was planned I met my dad to attempt to join him in the press box section. I acted as if Dan Snyder was my brother and walked in confidently (underdressed) to the luxury suites where broadcasts were occurring. We watched the third quarter behind the Redskins Radio broadcasters but in the lull of the crowd and when Sonny wasn’t rambling on about the Second Boer War I could hear a piercing squelch of an obnoxious man’s voice. I could almost make out the man saying “fuck the Red Sox” and it hit me. BUCK.

Next door was the Fox Sports broadcast booth and there through the plate glass partition was one of the most hated men in broadcasting and the top of my list of complete assholes, Joe Buck. I contemplating making a fake mooning motion at the glass (something that horrified Buck so much in 2005 that he almost quit broadcasting to become a seal beater) but instead, with drink in hand, just walked next door and entered the Fox Sports booth. There was surprisingly no reaction from the man seated by the door standing just off to the side of the blue Fox Sports sheet draped behind Buck. I figured this could be my chance to make the world right for baseball and football fans all over the country. Sadly, I had no weapon other than an unopened can of Natural Light (still left over from Crabfest) in my jacket so I thought about just spearing the shadow of Buck through the sheet and tumbling with him down in to the crowds below (or on top of a moving rail car) to have a fist of cuffs set to climatic 1980’s Steven Segalish “last fight scene” music. As I stood listening to the shrill comments of Buck a man came from behind the sheet and walked right by me. I again was shocked at what I was looking at. More of the hate all in one small bathroom sized room. SEACREST.

Now I was really torn - with all this hate what was I to do? I did what everyone would have expected me to do. Nothing. In fact I walked out of the Fox booth after Seacrest and even stood in line with him to get a slice of cake and some chicken fingers. “He eats the same things we do, not the souls of infants” I thought to myself as he dolloped a healthy serving of honey mustard on to his plate. Yeah he’s alright by my book. I guess he was pretty funny on Talk Soup anyway. And what about Buck? Well he looked pretty tall so he’s okay in my book too, as long as he’s not covering the Sox/Yankees games.

All at once I felt peace on my life.