Frankie C's Excellent Super Bowl Adventure: The Deuce

By Frankie C.
Cold Hard Football Facts Bon Vivant

To get caught up with Frankie's trip to last year's Super Bowl in Dallas click here.

Guess who’s back (back back)?

Back again?

Frankie’s back.  And still carrying a formidable drinking problem.

Hi Everyone!  Welcome back for another edition of my Super Bowl blog.  So much has happened since last February.  Where do I begin?  I suppose I’ll just pick up from where I got home after last year’s Super Bowl.

After Kerry and I took Dallas out to the woodshed and treated it like a secret hillbilly cousin, I decided I needed to put the work in so that 2012 version would be even better than incestuous hillbilly love (no hillbillies were harmed in the making of this blog). So, I quit smoking and started working out non-stop.  All the while I tortured my friends with daily updates.  By summertime, I was a lean mean fighting machine with no friends.  Not that I’d ever pat myself on the back, but I was the best looking guy in the history of mankind.

Fast forward to November, the holidays arrived and I had to think of what to get myself.  After careful consideration, I settled on sloth and gluttony.

And, now on January 30, I look pretty much identical to the way I did last year.  And I smoke again. 

A year well spent, in other words. 

January 29.  Day 1 of our trip to Indianapolis.
Kerry and I decided to drive from Boston to Indy for the big game.  Kerry hates to fly but likes to drive and meet random poeple. And the flight to Dallas last year, famously delayed by anentire day, took at least 5 years off my life. This year we’re going to be the masters of our own destiny.

Somewhere around 5:30 a.m., Kerry picks me up at my house. We are on the road. My official duties on this trip are to blog, and to video our exploits. We run into our first glitch about 8 minutes into the trip when the video camera (which has been charging all night) tells us the battery is dead.  I quickly adapt, adjust and overcome by doing charcoal sketches instead.  Kerry says he prefers his art in crayon.  We argue about the creative direction of my work. 

6:20 a.m. We stop on Boston Common to record some video about the birthplace of football, which up until that moment, I did not know was Boston. There’s a monument to commemorate it.  It’s located right down the street from the beautiful statue to commemorate the invention of ether as an anesthetic.  I suppose that’s one use for it.  I’m grateful for the invention of ether too, because without it I’d have to use the pick-up line “Does this rag smell like chloroform?” Ether just flows better. 

6:40 a.m.  We’re back in the truck.  It’s 951 miles to Indy.  I decide to pretend to sleep so I can break wind without having to feel bad.

9:30 a.m.  I’ve decided to pretend I’m awake.  We’re just about to leave Connecticut.  As we enter New York, it occurs to me that 951 miles is a really long drive.  We’ve got roughly 200 miles under our belts.  My legs aren’t pretending anything.  They’re totally asleep. I start punching my thighs to get the blood flowing.  I haven’t had a cocktail in almost 12 hours.  It’s no wonder my body is in revolt.

11:30 a.m.  I’m like a feral cat scratching at the windows of the truck when we stop for lunch at some bar room, somewhere in New Jersey.  I can’t make out the letters on the sign because I’m shaking too violently.  Kerry’s a pal.  He drags me to my stool where I can finally get some medicine.  Three shots of Jack Daniels and several beers later, I feel human again.  I wash down my booze with some chow containing sausage.  It’s time to get back on the road.

1 p.m.  We’re now in Pennsylvania.  We meet up with Bill.  He’s a Football Nation Superstar and he’s going to bunk with us in Indy.  Also, he’s a trained video guru, so I’m now freed up to concentrate on my blog and my buzz.

1:30 p.m.  Our convoy stops at Dietrich’s Meats in Krumsville, PA.  This place is pretty awesome.  It’s an old school meat market where they do all their own dirty work.  Their specialty is a football shaped bologna that has real laces and threads.  It looks exactly like a real football. It’s really cool.  Kerry simultaneously fondles the meat and interviews the owner.  Or maybe it was the other way around. 

2 p.m.  We’re back on the road.  We’re headed to Pottsville, PA to talk to the owner of Maroons Sports Bar. It's a pub dedicated to the Pottsville Maroons, an early NFL team that local say was robbed off the league championship in 1925.

3 p.m. We arrive at Maroons and meet Bob and Karen Dittmar.  They are awesome people.  Just as friendly and hospitable as I’ve met on the trip so far.  Bob and Karen offer up some delicious Lithuanian food and a bunch of free drinks.  I’m officially drunk. Hooray!  I try to have a conversation with a 50 year old hottie and fail miserably.  I have no game at all.  Plus I’m fat. 

5 p.m. We’re back in the truck.  Our goal is to hit Pittsburgh before we call it a day.  It’s 255.5 miles from here.  I don’t feel much like the master of my own destiny. I’m lousy drunk and awfully tired.  This is going to be a long week.

7:30 p.m.  Along some highway in Western Pennsylvania, we drive right into the heart of a Biblical snowstorm.  We can’t see 10 feet in front of the truck.  I used to love to drive in the snow at night. If you squint your eyes at the show in the glow of the headlights, it looks like navigating deep space. I’m officially cured of that.  This was scary.  Then like a light being turned off, it ended.  Thank God.  I just want to get where we’re going.  You wouldn’t think that sitting down all day would be so exhausting.  I’m beat.

9:30 p.m.  Whew!  We made Pittsburgh PA.  It’s been roughly 15 hours, 600 miles, 12 beers and 7 shots of whiskey.  I’d say we’re off and running.  As soon as we check into the hotel, I fall into bed with my clothes still on.  We’ve got a big day tomorrow.     

For Day 2 of Frankie C's Excellent Super Bowl Adventure, click here.

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Read more: Cold Hard Football Facts, Football Nation, Frankie C., NFL, Super Bowl