Make me the happiest boy in the world Joel. Marry me and make me Ms. Robuchon. <3
Join Date: Nov 2009
Mentioned: 336 Post(s)
Tagged: 193 Thread(s)
jim is this just you firing brutal shots at your fellow midwest rubes
Jim:
The Cincinnati game day experience is horrible, that is unless if you like to see 41,000 drunk people who couldn't get a ride to the Ohio State game the day before. The mood at Paul Brown Stadium at any given point during a game is just like your dad's growing up. The crowd coldly watches the game, as if even being there is above and beyond any expectation you could have had for them, while they choke back their insane, unpredictable rage until even the slightest, most mundane thing makes them just lose their shit and start screaming at you.
"Timeout!?! I don't bust my ass all week so you can take a timeout! Your brother wouldn't have called a timeout!" All of this while the stadium sound system blasts old cassettes that Mike Brown probably bought at a Sharonville garage sale back in 1993. You can hear the tape rewind after every time they play 'Bang the Drum All Day.'
Fans in Cincinnati refuse to buy tickets to games. And if you offer them tickets for free, they still won't go and they just get even more pissy about the team. I once won a charity raffle for tickets. I got a call about winning the tickets a solid four weeks after the raffle ended. Those four weeks saw the Bengals as the losers of three and the tiers of one. Guessing conservatively, those tickets were turned down three times a week until they got to me. Out of the five I won, two were actually used. For a team that has been around for forty some years, the Bengals have all the rich history and tradition of the Jacksonville Jaguars circa 1992.
Cincinnati is a weird place. It's an alternate reality where the South won the Civil War and the city was turned into an orphaned, international buffer zone between the Union and the Confederacy. In the weird alternate reality that is "The Nati", Pete Rose is the supreme all-time mayor. Food rationing during the war led people to create a replacement spaghetti that consisted of canned chili on bagged noodles with government cheese. To this day, they prefer the substitute spaghetti more than the real thing, even though it is wretched. In the city of Cincinnati, NASCAR, baseball, and college basketball are the only three sports that matter. In Cincinnati, restaurants just float away. The local economy is totally based on prescription painkillers and custom built cornhole boards. Opinions are dictated by talk radio trolls. The Emerald Ash Borer and bedbugs have united to ruin all spaces outside and in. Forensics students at the University of Cincinnati have the unique opportunity to hold class outside at a real unsolved crime scene every single day. And all the teachers at the local high schools have to preregister as sex offenders. With all of this, the upstart perpetual expansion team that is the Bengals, with their cheapskate owner and literacy first approach to logos, just can't find a loving audience.