Rambling Rhodes

The Metrodome

So, the Metrodome is going down. Leaving aside all the dumbery of it going down in the first place--to be replaced by something I'll probably never be able to set foot within unless I strike a nice vein of gold under my basement--let me just pause and consider what the Metrodome meant to me.

- I remember my father taking me to a few Twins games. I don't remember the games in particular, but I do remember the batting practices, waiting for the hopeful stray ball to make its way into our obscure seats on the upper tier. A couple years later, when we were on the lower tier, along the foul ball line, my father sat between my brother and myself, so he could reflexively push our heads down and out of the way in the event of a line-drive foul. Never happened, but they were awesome seats all the same.

- The 1984 Harmony Cardinal Class C football championship team. I still can't tell you much about that game, beyond the fact Harmony won against the Glendon-Felton Buffalos, and I was there, and the town talked about it for years.

- There were a couple of years when I was a member of the Minnesota School Patrol when we were gifted free tickets to go to Twins games, and we were transported to the Cities in a van. Again, I remember the van rides and the batting practices much more than I recall the actual games. Why I remember van rides with a bunch of kids and a strange adult should probably be left up to a psychiatrist.

- 1990 Harmony Cardinal football year. We had a really good team, and made the state tournament. All the tenth grade players were brought up to varsity to make the overall team seem like it had massive depth. I spent all the playoff games sitting on the bench with my belt cinched up so unnecessarily tight that I subsequently spent the halftimes lying on locker room benches on my stomach battling epic gas. We got within one game of being able to play in the Metrodome, but ended up losing in overtime.

- 1991 Harmony Cardinal football year. We had another good team, but we ended up smacking into a state playoff team that had a running back that was apparently a stone golem. The guy didn't seem too bright, but they handed him the ball and it was like Forrest Gump built like Hitler's bunker. "ME TAKE BALL! ME RUN! FOR EVA BRAUN, JENNY!" The guy would run through our line, trailing tacklers behind him like a kite tail. I watched the whole thing from the bench, thankfully, because it looked like it really hurt getting hit by that massive pile of asshole. We lost, but we did get to go to the Metrodome as spectators. We almost were detained by dome security because we tried to walk on the turf to "see what it felt like." It felt like we were really close to being detained by dome security, in my opinion.

- 1997 Vikings game. I attended this Vikings game with several friends. Two things to note. Thing 1) The quarterback, Brad Johnson, threw a pass that was deflected by a defender. He then caught his own pass, and ran it in for a touchdown. The only such incidence of a quarterback throwing a pass to himself for a touchdown.

Thing 2) I had gas so bad that day, that I kept farting and farting and farting, until the people a few rows up from us started chanting "STINKY BOYS! STINKY BOYS!" Unfortunately, I have no video of that.

1998 Vikings Game (yes, THAT Vikings team). Same group of friends attending (plus Jeremy Stevens). Thing 1) Randall McDaniel was penalized for taunting the opposing team as he loped into the end zone for a defensive touchdown.

Thing 2) I had gas so bad that day, that I kept farting and farting and farting (and Jeremy Stevens kept telling me to "do it again" *giggle* "do it again" *giggle*), until a woman a few rows up from us yelled "What, did you shit your pants!? It's fucking disgusting!"

So, yeah, they're pretty much tearing down the Metrodome because of me.

I Put That Under Where?

I think it says something about myself when there’s a breaking news item, and then my Facebook page is bombarded by “Friends” repeatedly linking to that particular news item. Some people may think it reflects the fact I’m a journalist, and my friends are simply pointing me towards an important news story that absolutely requires my attention.

In this case, however, the news story in question was about a stepson who somehow managed to kill his stepfather using an atomic wedgie. While the story didn’t carry the weight of, say, the Watergate break in, I have to hand it to my Facebook “Friends” for pointing me towards the kind of story I can really sink my teeth into, so to speak.

Now, I could pick from hundreds of sources to cite this particular news item, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. According to a Jan. 9 news report from ABC News: “A brutal fight between a former Marine and his stepfather in Oklahoma ended in the stepfather’s death by “atomic wedgie,” also known as death by underwear.”

First off, let me just state that I’m shocked this incident happened in Oklahoma. Second off, I’m leafing through the AP Stylebook right now and nowhere does it indicate that “atomic wedgie” is also known as “death by underwear.” Maybe I’m looking in the wrong section. Back to the news item:

“Denver St. Clair had been arguing with his stepson, Brad Davis, 33, last month when the two began to fight. Davis told police that St. Clair had spoken “ill of Davis’ mother,” and then threw the first punch. The men had been drinking, investigators told ABC affiliate KNXV.”

There’s a lot to digest in that paragraph. Firstly, the victim’s name was “Denver” and he lived in Oklahoma, so that just doesn’t fit. Secondly, I highly doubt St. Clair shouted “Your mother is foul, and I speak ill of her!” before unleashing a fierce round of fisticuffs. Thirdly, the men had been drinking? I simply have a hard time believing that. Now, the article really gets into the inverted pyramid guts of journalistic story telling:

“Davis said he fought back and then gave his father an ‘atomic wedgie” in which he stretched the elastic waistband of St. Clair’s underwear up over his head. The move is most often used as a prank among children and teenagers.”

Underwear—particularly brand new underwear—can exhibit astonishing properties, so much so that scientists are considering including it in the periodic table of the elements under the designation “Sm” for “Skidmark.” Among those properties is extreme elasticity, including the capability, in some cases, to be stretched in between the buttocks and over the forehead.

I’ve actually witnessed—and experienced in one unfortunate case— underwear suspend a person in mid-air, before the elastic band separated from the rest of the garment. But, an atomic wedgie resulting in death? Consider me skeptical.

“According to the affidavit obtained by the affiliate station, police said the underwear left a ligature mark around St. Clair’s neck and noted that there was blood around the kitchen and living room.”

If the underwear band was made of barbed wire, I could maybe see this as a plausible scenario. As it is, I suspect, er, FOUL play was involved.

Just in case, however, I think there should be a nationwide underwear ban. You know, to be safe.