by flyte44

I sit perplexed, puzzled on how to begin;
About my adventures in traveling to meet Brady Quinn.

Should I write an article, a story? Oh here it goes,
My attempt to convey the day in prose.

It may not be pretty, and won’t put any poet to shame,
But at least I can tell you about the NFL game.

It starts the day before, with a disaster involving my vision,
My glasses snapped in half leaving me with an awful decision.

Do I drive 600 miles with a scratched five-year-old pair of glasses?
Or do I drive 10 miles per hour - as slow as molasses?

“Hell no!” I said looking like Velma from Scooby-Doo.
“I will not be denied my Brady. No thank-you!”

I drove to Pearle Vision, located in the mall,
And had a gentleman fix them by the name of Paul.

I sat there worried. It was touch and go there for a minute.
He didn’t think he could fix them without the proper kit.

Finally, after an hour I could see, I COULD THINK!
Despite a new bridge made of metal a shade of pink.

I could care less about the color – things were ok.
Going home I had to pick up my nephew along the way.

Tossing and turning I could barely sleep the night before.
Dreams plagued me involving Derek constantly getting to score.

I mumbled, “Sack him you linemen. You call yourself a Giant!”
I yelled, “Get Brady in there!” That was my mantra – my chant.

Oh well, the next morning was beautiful, blue sky erased the nightmare.
It was 8AM and I yelled, “Get your ass up and start to prepare.”

We loaded the car with DVDs, Red Bulls, and Little Debbie snack cakes,
Don’t laugh. I needed to be entertained and awake for goodness sakes.

While driving I couldn’t help but enjoy the foliage and the leaves.
A palette of orange, reds, yellows, and gold were the trees.

Our first stop was 200 miles away in the town of Clarion.
I refueled and ate McDonald’s like a barbarian.

It was a hasty lunch and my anxiousness sealed my doom.
Next stop, down the road at another McDonald’s to use their bathroom.

OK. Finally I see that we are entering Ohio.
We are making great time with tunes from the radio.

I pay the toll and now we are close to Cleveland.
I yell at my nephew, “Get out the Garmin,” I demand.

I can’t believe it; we arrive in such great time,
I swear we did not speed or commit any other crime.

At the stadium we find parking for twenty bucks.
The price is outrageous and totally sucks.

Our options were few and we had to park,
I needed to stretch my legs, stand up, and disembark.

We park in the lot with all of the tailgaters,
We were welcomed as one by all of the Giant haters.

I check my cell phone, finally I can.
Driving and talking is never a good plan.

My friend left a message her name is Diane,
“Brady might play if Derek puts it in the can.”

I jump up and down a smile across my face.
It is a wonderful day and this is a wonderful place.

I grab my nephew, who is, by now, tossing a football with perfect strangers,
They are heavily drunk, and he is unaware of the dangers.

But not so quick to judge I realize that they are having fun,
Throwing a beanbag, a Frisbee, playing in the sun.

Next, we take a walk along the Port of Cleveland pier.
We see yachts, seagulls, sailors, and people all in good cheer.

We see the Rock and Roll Museum and the Museum of Science – so cool.
We walk around the stadium spying a guy in a Manning jersey – such a tool.

I enter the Cleveland Browns Team Shop with money to spend.
So much winter stuff – that must be the trend.

I snatch up a scarf, a lanyard, and a T-shirt a plenty
They are so cool and fashionable. Question is, “How many?”

My nephew gets a Braylon Edwards pennant and I get something to brag.
An engraved, silver Cleveland Brown’s dog tag!

What was engraved you inquire, you ask again.
“Just in large letters, ‘BRADY QUINN #10’”

Now I had some more dough to get one more goodie,
A huge warm and fuzzy Brady Quinn #10 hoodie!

That will keep me warm during the long winter days.
My nephew is freaked out by my far away gaze.

I snap to, pay, and realize we have to get to the car; the gates will open soon.
On the way out I see a Brady Quinn poster. I stop, stare, and swoon.

My nephew, his name is Jesse, pushes me out.
“I really like that hat too,” I pout.

We dumped our stuff in the car’s trunk and sit outside the stadium gate.
It is true what they say about the hard part being that you have to wait.

We both contribute a dollar to the pink ladies Help Find a Cure.
We both feel so self-assured, so cool, so mature.

I have my Brady Quinn photo and Sharpees hoping he’ll sign.
My nephew also has a photo - the gates are opening. It’s time!

We run to our section and we are stopped by an usher.
He checks our ticket, says we can go – we are a blur.

We get to our seats, Section 145, seats 1 and 2
Another usher has some words for us. What did we do?

Nothing it happens, he just wants to tell us
That no one can stand near and create a fuss.

“You mean no one can crowd down here next to us and scream?”
“No,” he says, “That is a new policy. Some one complained they couldn’t see the team.”

This is awesome. I cannot believe it is true.
It is just us near the tunnel. Just us. NO ZOO!

This means we are the only ones that are allowed to be hanging over the wall;
Screaming for autographs, grabbing for player’s gloves – we are going to have a ball!

Our row mates are young, very nice, and we introduce.
I tell them the good news about crowding and that there is no excuse.

They are very nice, big fans and they also have a sign.
“JAMAL YOU’RE MAKING ME LEWIS MY MIND!”

It is so large and cool and makes mine look puny.
“STOCKS DOWN – UP WITH THE BROWNS” It’s ok, a bit loony.

I never have luck with signs. The first being a huge banner I worked hard on – so very involved.
“GO BROWNS” it said and flipped over “GO BRADY” but with the rain – it dissolved.

That pissed me off, I had 9 players sign,
But this time my poster would shine.

Well not exactly you see,
That day stocks were up 923!

Stupid sign, it will never make TV.
I was still proud of it and displayed it with glee.

Brady. Where’s Brady? I had to find out where he was.
Way down the field, throwing the ball and looking hot, is what he does.

I snap a few pictures thanking God for such good zoom,
I’d love to dress up as Brady in a Cleveland Brown’s football costume.

I stop taking pictures and see my first player.
It is Eric Steinbach. I hope he’ll sign, is my prayer.

Since we are the only one there he sees us no problem.
Having his signature in my Browns notebook will be a gem.

“Eric will you please sign,” I say, he is only a few feet away.
He looks. “The coach told us not to sign any autographs today.”

“Otherwise I really would. Sorry,” says 65.
I cannot believe it. No signatures. How will I survive?

“WHAT!” I yell and I scream.
Does this go for the whole entire team?

Away he goes into the tunnel right passed me.
I am heartbroken, devastated so unhappy.

But oddly enough, it is my nephew who pipes up and sighs,
“We can still ask other players. Maybe Eric Steinbach lies.”

The horror. A Brown tell a fib?
“Jesse the coach said no.” And in went Josh Cribb.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, to pester, beg and plea.
I learned from the best by watching TMZ!

We leaned over the railing with our papers and our pens.
Who will we get to sign, well that just all depends.

Here come two players, Mike Adams and Terry Cousin and they write their autograph.
I am so happy – so stunned. “Well will you believe that!” I said with a laugh.

Here comes Joe Thomas and I am filled with dread.
If looks could kill we’d both be dead.

I recall last year, his rookie year, when everyone was signing
He just walked right passed everyone leaving us whining.

You have to believe me when I say I got right in his face.
He again just walked right passed me as if I was empty space.

Well here comes Willie McGinnest, 15 years in the NFL.
At 270 pounds I’d be afraid to give him hell.

There is no need. He signs and so does Shantee Orr!
I cannot flip the pages fast enough - I already have four!

OMG stands for Oh My God.
Here comes Brady leaving the practice squad.

We all yell, ”Brady!” I prepare myself and try to get composed,
He gives a kid his towel and walks straight into the tunnel. I feel hosed!

I look at that kid who reminds me of Piggy from Lord of the Flies.
I stare at him, open mouthed, and look at his prize.

“I’ll give you 50 dollars for that towel,” I shout and I meant it.
For a moment it looks like he’ll take the bait, I would not quit.

“Come on it is just a towel. I’ll give you $50 plus this notebook.”
Piggy just stares at me as if I was some sort of crook.

Needless to say, I did not get Brady’s towel, or his DNA.
Yes, it was childish; I’m a bit obsessed I have to say.

No matter little piggy, look who approaches.
It’s Brodney Pool with several coaches.

I lean right down, being six feet four I can do that.
I give Brodney my notebook and hold onto my hat.

He signs for me and he signs for Jesse
No one else is that lucky.

Take a smoke of that little boy. I just had the starting free safety sign.
Now isn’t that just a kick in the behind?

Here comes Derek, and I am filled with delight, is that a sin?
I want him to sign, then fall flat on his chin.

This will allow Brady to play and take the reins,
But alas, no signing, no falling down, I have a stomach full of pains.

A bunch more famous starters enter the tunnel and not one of them looks my way.
Phil Dawson, Donte Stallworth, Jamal Lewis, even third stringer Ken Dorsey.

Oh pooh! A lot of them are already in.
I know they will not sign when the game’s about to begin.

Here comes another, D’Qwell Jackson.
Won’t you please sign – just one?

He does and the world has already forgotten about Derek.
I know I am disloyal and not a good fan, but he fills me with ick.

Isaac Sowells comes and graces the pages of my notebook with his pen stroke.
But the best of the night is about to happen and I swear it is no joke.

Braylon Edwards, the one and only, comes jogging right near.
People shout, but they cannot approach and I think he’ll go in I fear.

But would you believe he stops, takes my pen, and signs a page!
A fan tried to take his Edwards jersey off, but misses his chance. His rage!

Braylon very rarely ever signs I say to my nephew.
I can’t believe he did – that was new!

I look at Jesse who looks a little pale.
He’s only 14, tall like me, but a little frail.

I say to him, “I am so glad we got his signature and had a chance.”
Jesse replies, “I am so excited. I thought I would wet my pants.”

We laugh and I look up and gone is little piggy.
I might not have gotten Brady, but I got Braylon’s siggy.

Soon, the game is about to start, the tunnel fills with fog.
Everyone is tense but happy. I am finally a Dawg!

I see the TV camera hover just in front overhead.
“We are on TV Jesse,” but he looks elsewhere instead.

They all make their debut and Braylon does an awesome flip.
This makes traveling 6 hours and 300 miles worth the trip.

Derek is so close, clapping guys on the shoulder.
I could reach out and touch him – slap him if I were bolder.

All of us are cheering, and booing the Giants entry.
Getting wrapped up in the excitement is easy – elementary.

A photographer takes a picture of me, Jesse, and the poster.
She gets our names for the caption; it is for a local paper we infer.

At halftime I changed my sign from “STOCKS DOWN UP with the BROWNS”
To: GIANTS DOWN UP with the BROWNS.” And showed everyone by turning around.

Now comes the part of the poem I need not tell you about.
You all know what happened to the Giants no doubt.

We kicked their sorry asses so badly that night.
We, the Browns, did it! It was such a sight!

The energy and the noise was so massive so palpable,
Not a seat was empty the stadium was at maximum. Completely full!

Oh no one knew the Browns would win, that they would be on fire.
And if someone does you look them straight in the eye and call them a liar.

There was only one small part of the game where the Giants were ahead.
But if you were a Manning fan, at the end you would wish you were dead.

The game was so over, not even close.
OVERRATED and BOOS were the boasts.

In come the Brownies, all happy and full of love.
But would I be so lucky as to reach out and catch a glove?

If you’ve never been there, at the end of the game,
The team goes and we all chant their name.

Some of the players, not all mind you, throw things at the crowd.
If you are lucky you can catch a towel or glove and be proud.

Well, nothing makes you happier than putting the Giants to shame.
I mean these were the Super Bowl champs – their claim to fame.

So all the players were smiling and happy to indulge,
There’s a secret to snatching a towel, I’d be happy to divulge.

First, you have to make your way to the tunnel as close as you can.
I mean if you want to get a towel, or a glove you have to have a plan.

Mine is simple. I stand right near.
Being so tall, I have nothing to fear.

But soon, the crowd came pushing, all hoping to catch a glimpse
Of the Champion Cleveland Brownies and the Giant losing wimps.

The players threw their towels and lucky I was I caught one!
Some bystanders tried to steal it away because they had none.

Next ran in some of the wide receivers.
“Throw us your gloves, we are all believers!”

I don’t know his name I was just too excited,
But I caught a right-handed glove and tucked it away delighted.

Some drunk Barbie clone was so damned lucky,
She caught Brady’s towel and screamed like a banshee.

Her friend popped up under my arm right next to me. Oh my!
I am not ashamed to say she got an elbow to the eye.

I didn’t do it on purpose; I am not that cruel.
But what does she think? I am some fool?

I wanted my nephew to have a chance to catch a player’s glove.
He was successful, and I was so happy for him. Can you feel the love?

The end was upon us, but we were in no rush.
The people were literally piled on me. The crush!

The stadium was emptying only the die-hards stayed.
I am getting my money’s worth. $400 I paid!

It was fortunate too, because who should appear?
No not Brady, he was gone. Are we now in the clear?

It was my new favorite Brownie, Edwards comma Braylon.
He jogged back onto the field with a sh*t eating grin.

You see Braylon was predicting that the Giants were going to lose.
What did you think? Giants win? Browns win? You choose.

He went right passed on his way to ESPN Monday Night.
He was being interviewed, of course, asked about the Brown’s might.

He went back in and I said, “We have to get going.”
“The Browns played so well, they had an excellent showing.”

Both of us were pumped, so pleased to see the exciting game.
Not even the heavy traffic could dampen our spirits I proclaim.

The rest is boring, we left the stadium and we got back to our car.
We said goodbye to our drunken tailgaters and had to drive real far.

We left the traffic and Cleveland’s city lights around 1AM.
It would be a long uneventful trip to talk about my friend.

I drove into the sunrise, my nephew asleep and cranky.
When I saw familiar town names like Hazleton and Blakeslee.

I was glad I took off from work, it was already the next day.
I was zonked, tired, on empty, exhausted, spent, and weary.

I dropped off Jesse; he thanked me, and went to his bed for some rest.
I got home after 7AM, got into my apartment, crawled into bed after I undressed.

Well, not exactly, you see right before I said good night.
I signed into BradysBunch.org to see if everything was all right.

My friends saw me on TV and were so happy with the outcome.
I told them some of the highlights but was so tired I was numb.

I promised them an accounting of my adventures at the game.
I know they would do it for me. We are all one in the same.

I hope I have pleased them. I really tried my best.
Nothing can take the place of being there I confessed.

So, in the end, I was very happy despite not getting close to Brady.
There will always be more games, more signing events, and I guarantee
I will meet him again up close and shake his hand, I have that hunch.
But if not, there’s always my friends at a website called The Brady Bunch.

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