Prodigal Sons

The spread: 28 points.
Old school: 7
New School: 35

So basically, my prediction is as follows. We get to the field and the old school sissies are still talking trash about the fit and fiddle new school Prods who are about to mop up the hillside with old school sweat and blood. All the while, in they're minds they're freakin out because they know that talk comes cheap and that's all they got. By the way, isn't all this talk just a lame attempt for compensation. Compensation for what? We all know what.....

The game begins and right out of the gate, Cavanna, or "Pedro" as many fondly refer to him as, throws a rocket to Aiden who is wide open because nobody is fast enough to cover him past five yards from the line of scrimmage. Old School Prods receive the ball after the first touch down. After receiving the ball, old school burns four to no avail. Pedro for president, back on the field, gets the ball in a shotgun and pulls his PCL (I think that stands for Pat Cavanna Ligament or Posterior Cruciate Ligament...not sure. Who cares, he's done). Bergy takes over for one down and then we remember that he was too much of a slacker to show up, so we take him out of the game as well. See ya Sunday, Bergy. Aiden's in. Since he can't play QB and receiver at the same time, he just throws it to Conrad for another easy 7.

OS - 0, NS - 14. Helgy's on the sideline shuffling. Man he's good.

Once again, team Father Time has a chance to make something happen, but as Joe Berlucci as their fearless leader, who knows. So they try to run the ball because Pic is still stretching on the sideline. Nick Petro gives the ball to Big Spic, but he can't get through NS's line, and he knows this. You know this, man. Not with a line up like Jamon "Junkyard" Copeland, Eddie "Gorilla" Ross, Mikey "Mt. Fuji" Lafever, Joe "Rambo" Sterett, and Peter "The Dude" Firmin. Not happenin. Pic's still stretching so they just go for the Hail Mary. One problem, nobody remembers how the Hail Mary goes. Cyril's pissed and he votes for a new captain. He rallies Garvey, who doesn't really care, but Beck and Big and Small Spic feel pretty strongly about it so Joe's out. Sorry Joe, you get to be the water boy. NS's ball.

Shuffle, shuffle.

Now the New Prods have the ball, and giving it to Brenden "Black Snake" McKeegan seems like a good idea. Nobody can catch him, but he somehow manages to get most of his clothes ripped off in the process. He enters the inzone with parts of a shirt and no pants. Why does this make Conall so happy?

OS - 0, NS -21. Schornack is smoking a cigarette on the sideline. What a great cheerleader. Meanwhile, Jake is capturing every phototastic moment on his miniature spy camera (he got a new one that's even smaller than before. Pictures coming soon to Imagestation).

OS gets the ball back after Lowicki almost fumbles the return. But Pic's in the game so things might work out after all. Since there are no hands on the team he doesn't have much to work with. An incomplete throw to Peach boy, and it doesn't look good. Finally, Pic tosses one to Joe Rod which catches the unexpecting New School Prods unawares. Old School is finally on the board.

Old School - 7, NS - 21. Pedro and his band friends take the field for the halftime show. Every halftime show can't end with a boob, I mean boom, but at least the Marching band will be cool.

Final half. Not many sober players back on the field because during the halftime Mike Lowzinski shows up with a keg and the latest beer pong table that he's made. This beer pong table is the mother of all tables. It's bottle cap studded, and has laminated memories in it for maximum pongage. Never leave home without it. Greg Kelly brought the solo cups (Johnny blessed them before they left the seminary).

Back to the game. This time the newest prods and even the ones who didn't make the shirt (that's where I'm getting all these names) take the field. They're athletic and they have their own flag foot ball team, so they easily score on the Old Schoolers. After two more touchdowns are scored, everyone decides it would be a better investment of time to drink out of the keg rather than continue to score points upon points on the lagging team. Both teams put aside their petty rivalry and come together at the keg. This is all after a prayer, of course, lead by Spinny who showed up out of nowhere.

This is my prediction, what's yours?

Brenden and Mike arrived in New Orleans Thanksgiving Thursday to celebrate Ryan’s wedding with Daniel. Shortly after, Joe pulled in and joined B and Mikey as he was cordially welcomed by a beer in hand. Best part: drinking in the car is legal in New Orleans. After a little poker and a lot of beer at Ryan’s house, it was time to meet downtown on Bourbon St. with Jim McDade, Steve Howard and Tim Kelly.

Pat O’brien’s was the bar of choice, and why not, it had Hurricanes. That night, though, the Hurricane ended up being Joe’s demise. As Brenden, Mikey, and Joe arrived at Pat O’s, Joe was talking with Jim catching up and all of a sudden he felt a hard kick in the backside. Just then, some blonde hair prick looking guy walked by. Very upset and ready to throw down, Joe lunged toward the passing offender but was grabbed by the collar by Howard, the real culprit. Steve later regretted stopping Joe because he would have loved to see a brawl that he started. Hugs all around.

As the night continued, the bird’s eye view became blurry, but the bird remembered seeing Jim suddenly stop his car on the way home. From the back seat, Jim heard, “Jim McDade, I gotta throw up.” Then the Hurricane that just went down Joe’s throat, went out Jim’s window. Bed time. For some reason, Brenden and Steve decided to drink like rockstars and ended up staying out till 5:30 6ish.

Jim McDade’s House (more like a room than a house…it’s pretty small): A couple hours later as the six Prods peacefully slept off their booze, they were woken up by the sound of a trickling waterfall. It turns out that it wasn’t a waterfall at all, but in fact it was Brenden relieving himself all over Mikey and on Jim’s couch bed. As Mikey tried to convince Brenden to use the bathroom instead of his feet, Joe got up and led the now pinching Brenden to the toilet, thank God. Jim was pissed, pun intended. They say the old Jim would have caused Brenden a lot of pain, as he pounded him into a bloody pulp, but the new Jim just thought back on all the stupid things that he’s done and called it even. Isn’t Karma a bitch?

Next night was the wedding, and of course, the reception. That’s when Jamon came into town and turned into drunk boy, the wonder drinker who can’t hold his liquor. And why not, there were two open bars and lots of hot Louisiananian women. No woman was too young, old, ugly, dumb for Jamon to hit on, and no drink was to be left undrunk. Jamon’s quest was to let everyone know in his most vociferous voice, that he was from Texas and that he was white trash. For some reason he thought everyone was hard of hearing so he felt the need to put them in a headlock and scream “Wat Trashe” into their unsuspecting ears.

After much dancing, drinking and booze, the after party continued at the Red I, somewhere in the French Quarter. Nobody really knows what happened after that, but we all made it home safe and sound. So, Tim is back “teaching” fourth graders, Jamon is back to picking up high school girls and teaching on the side, Steve is back wandering the earth waiting for Liz to say yes again, Mikey is back in VA Beach asking if they want paper or plastic, Brenden is back in Steuby marking his territory on some unsuspecting sleeping Prod, McDade still has long hair, and Joe is in Austin with the bird’s eye view.

Come on Jamon, everybody wants to hear the story about the time you shit in your pants in Austria.

As God, I feel it is my duty to instruct the miscreants (Joe Rod, who might that be???) and correct his wayward mistakes. For the benefit of the rest of the three of us who read this post, I will relocate the post on previous entries:

Joe Rod said...
Hey does anybody read this shit?
Okay, here goes in the beginning part two. If any of you don't know by now I'm a hard-ass invesitgative reporter and here I've done some hard-ass investigative work.
I'm sitting around like a dink at work waiting for an interview so I figured I'd go along and tell the "rest of the story" seeing how I don't know how to post, all I can do is comment.
So here goes:



Joe Rod said...
Part 2:

After returning from Mass the boys were at a loss of what to with there time. Most of the fellas decided to sit down to a healthy Sunday afternoon of American football while one cetain prod, oh... let's call him Chirs Ortiz, decided he was off to the ice cream social at the big tent on campus.

The big tent was like something young Chris had never seen. He spent his youth picking cabage in the Florida everglades "boy that tent sure would've kept the sun off my greasey back," he remarked to himself. There were so many new people, all of them willing to listen to his stupid jokes and stories. For the first time in his life, Chris was cool.

Joe Rod said...
It was at that ice cream social that perhaps the most infamous of prodigal sons lore went into the history books.

At first Chirs caught a glimpse of the unkept man from the corner of his eye. The unkept man was licking dry a bowl of what used to be soft-served chocalate ice cream. In the hot Ohio sun the tasty dessert melted before he could really get after it. The proof was on his "STAND JUST" t-shirt, now covered with chocalate run-off. Junks of nuts were lodged in his goatee, his sloped shoulders hung nervously around his love handles. His name was of course Pete Cole.

Joe Rod said...
"What a beautiful human being," thought Chris. Maybe it was all the hay, liberally spread throughout the big tent, but Chris was starting to feel a little confused. A tingling in his stomach, a rush of blood to his head. He new his feelings were wrong, but how could something wrong feel so good?

and the rest as they say is history...
8:13 PM

Should I tell the Epic Adventure of Dioge becoming the all time record holder for the Beer Club at Rooney's. The thing is I wasn't there, so I didn't witness it first hand. I'll leave that part for someone else to tell. I was at home, though, when he was done and was dropped off by Helgy, and I do know that side of the story.

It's funny how you find out about things sometimes. Me? I had just got home from work and found the Prod House unusually empty. "Where could everyone be?" I thought. Just then the phone rang. It was Marina, Conall's (the guy who can't stop talking in spanish in his prod-wide emails...that's really pissin me off) girlfriend at the time (now they're engaged). "Is Conall there?" She asked, and after I said, "No" she said, "Oh, he's probably still down at Rooney's with Dioge in the beer contest thing." I was confused because I hadn't heard anything about this, but just then, like a ray of light to dispell all confusion, Dioge stumbles into the house. He looked like he had been in a bull fight, but I later found out that it was a fight with the dirty floor of Rooney's bar. I think he won because he was still standing...kindof.

Getting back to the phone conversation, I said to Marina, "Well, Dioge just got here, and he's wasted." Overhearing me say that, and not knowing who I was talking to, Dioge became incensed. It was time for me to end the conversation and run for my life. Luckily, I had the advantage of sobriety on my side, so I easily escaped the fury of a pissed off Dioge. The long and the short of it, Dioge drank 34 beers in 4 hours and 23 minutes to become the all time record holder for the beer club at Rooney's. Pretty amazing, huh? Not nearly amazing as the next morning when he got up for morning class without a hangover. Liar, you totally had a hangover.


So that's my story and I'm sticking to it, but there's more to Dioge than the alchohol stories. But, I don't know if there are any stories worth telling that don't have alchohol somewhere in them. What other household could strike such a precarious balance as the Prods: fun(alchohol) and God.

Here's a little taste of what the reunion will end in. These are all new prods and some of them aren't even prods (maybe they are, who knows). The was the picture at the 2003 winter retreat. Good stuff.

Since there are only a few elite part of the first ever ProdBlog, we only have a few contributors. But if we're only going to have a few, why not have the best.

I wanna know what ever happen to the tree in front of the Field house. Firmin always said he was going to cut it down before he graduated, and he actually bought the saw, and showed me. Did that ever come down?

What's going on, and who's doing it? That's a good question. Spanning Steubenville history for 17 years, the Prods are understatedly a legend. Why? We all know, and the stories never die. Whose got the best stories? Lets hear em.