Sports Blogger Reveals Torrid Bromance with Ripley – Believe it or Not
While signing hundreds of autographs for fans as he sits at his four-by-four card table at the Army football stadium parking lot, Sammy Sportface notices a guy he’s ferociously jealous of coming out to him. He’s a graduate of Army here in West Point who has gone on to fame and fortune and arrogance and smugness.
“Hey Sportface,” says Coach K. “I’d like to give you a tour of Army’s campus. This is where I got my start and learned how to be more disciplined and mean to my players which made me the greatest college basketball coach of all time.”
“Cram it, K,” said Sportface “No interest in hearing about how you learned all those important life lessons at Army that made you the most pompous guy on Earth. This is Wake Forest’s day. Puke on Duke. We’re gonna smash them next week for our Homecoming celebration. Best wishes on your season-long lovefest in your last year. Sure hope Duke chokes and loses every game and makes your last season a total embarrassment.”
Coach K gets the vibe he’s not welcome and walks away feeling jilted. As well he should. Sportface has no time for anything today other than signing autographs for his fans and taking in all the other activities taking place at this inimitable Wake Forest tailgate just two hours before the Demon Deacons take on Army before a sell-out crowd.
Lookie over there, he notices. A Very Fine Juice trucked just pulled up at Zucca’s Highlander tailgate. Twelve pallets packing the equivalent to 548 glasses of Grape, Apple, and Orange Very Fine Juice are being loaded in front of, beside, and on Zucca’s tailgate.
Behind his truck are 39 Port-a-Johns.
“These juices make you pee every other minute,” said Zucca. “Had to be sure we had enough pissers with all the Very Fine Juices we’re gonna be chugging during the tailgate.”
At the next tailgate over, a Volvo, there’s the Fez band selling subscriptions to Spotify so the crowd can listen to Fez music during the tailgate and anytime and anywhere on whatever electronic device they use.
It’s a football tailgate special promotion: buy one Spotify subscription and you get a free pass plus $10 worth of gambling tickets to next year’s Casino Night where the Fez will perform for the 52nd time.
At the next tailgate, a BMW with a Phillies bumper sticker, Sportface notices that Snake is selling tickets to the next Snakefest to be held sometime before 2028 at his tony neighborhood on the outskirts of downtown Philly.
“Snakefest is still a thing,” said Snake. “We gotta get guys signed up now before it sells out as it always does. Scof will be there. That oughta ensure Sportface will be there because he loves to sniff Scof’s jock.”
At the next tailgate – a black Lincoln Continental – stands Gibbons with beer bong in hand.
“Jets tickets anyone,” he says. “Going for $3 apiece. Great bargain. J-E-T-S Jets Jets Jets.”
One tailgate further down you see Ripley in his Chuck Neal jean jacket. He’s there now with his new bromance buddy, Sammy Sportface, who quit signing autographs because he wasn’t getting paid for it and wanted to hang out with Rip.
Believe it or not, Ripley brought a 12-pack of Peach Snapple and Sportface hauled in a jumbotron bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream. The two of them have a line 48 deep at their tailgate with people craving to fill their cups of coffee with a hit of Baileys and Peach Snapple.
“Everybody needs to drink a ton of booze today and feel wild inside,” said Sportface. “Hey Rip, tell Zucca we need a few of his Very Fine Juice pallets over here so add to our concoction and really get this party started.”
Then Sportface heads over to the Port-A-John to hit the head. For a good four minutes, he leaks.
“Feels so good to be here with the fellas,” says Sportface. “I wonder if Ripley realizes how much I really love him.”
Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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