2012 Kickoff Weekend Flashback

The year was 2012. A time just before Twitter blew up, when message boards still ruled.

After a much needed recovery time, I’d do my best to recall each year’s trip to Las Vegas for opening weekend of the NFL season.

In the beginning, it was all about the out-of-control boys weekend of table games, non-stop partying and of course college and pro football sports betting. Then came my discovery (in their second season) of the World Championship of Fantasy Football, followed by the Fantasy Football Players Championship main events which have taken Vegas-fun to the next level for the past 18 years.

This article is a photo-assisted flashback of what I could recall back then. A time stamp of life unfolding. Hope you enjoy the trip.

September 18, 2012

FFPC Draft Weekend 2012

As I begin writing, It has been exactly one week since returning from Las Vegas after channeling my inner Hunter S. Thompson over a far too long and far too dangerous five nights in Sin City.

The memories have come and gone during the week like flashes from a crime story. Many faces recalled. Far too many others though, well, I fear I have drank their faces away.

For those who have yet to take the plunge, here is one man’s fragmented recollection.

Wednesday, September 5th.

Deciding to do all of my packing the morning of, I woke up early and went to work. Shortly thereafter, I received an automated call, then another, saying my flight had been pushed back nearly two hours, then more like one hour. Not sure what to do, I called the airline and they directed me to show up on time regardless, as they would be doing their best to depart as soon as they could.

This year had a rather quiet and solitary feel to the beginning, as I kissed the wife and kids goodbye, tossed my bags into the taxi’s trunk and was swept away.

Grey skies. Rain a coming.

Destination: SFO airport. For the first time in ten years, I’d be both wingmanless and brotherless, as Brett (Garbage Points) and Mike (Terminators) had decided to stay home, for reasons I shall simply generalize as feminine. ;-)

I had done enough research to feel at peace with the low odds that a tired, knee-pad wearing Southwest Airlines crewman, nor their security clothed counterparts would bother to notice the small amount of amazingness I had tucked beneath the rolled out deodorant in my checked-in bag.

An extra tall Blue Moon at the airport bar couldn’t hurt, and before I knew it, we were airborne. That motherless city never fails to get the blood pumping at first sight through the airplane window.

Check-in went smoothly, and although my room had a beautiful view of Caesars Palace, Bellagio, etc, my window’s participation into the gigantic sticker-billboard of Penn and Teller that was plastered outside the Rio took its toll on both the camera’s and my eye’s ability to focus through it.

Clothes unpacked and hung, ice and orange juice run, and we are finally truely in Vegas with that first sip of a cocktail.

Being in the same hotel as all of the parties was such a relief, as the room clock seemed to always show plenty of extra time left when the route would be simply walking vs. the hustle and bustle of taxi lines, traffic and the like.

Maybe it was the diesel smoke, but I was blown away when I saw a single lightening strike, and what looked like a dark cloud in the shape of a posing Zeus, with one arm curved up to the sky and the other dropped down to his side in front of a backdrop of fluffy white clouds.

I was stunned, and felt obligated to stand in the center of my hotel room, re-creating its pose for posterity. By the time it dawned on me that I could actually capture the image, I fumbled through my bags to grab my camera, but by then it had become far too wide and wind-blown to resemble the human form it once did.

Now perfectly primed and sporting a lower cargo short-pocket bulging tight from the Gatorade bottle full of vodka I had allotted myself for the evening’s festivities.

“Four hundred on the Dallas Cowboys moneyline, please.” (I believe Zeus whispered that one in my ear.)

I recalled the long walk down the halls of Rio’s convention center from high stakes past.

My spider sense was tingling as I saw what appeared to be a friendly face, but something was a bit off. I reached my hand out and questionably asked “Baker Boy?” and was met with a hearty handshake and laughter with “No, but I’m his brother!” A couple more corners to round, then BAMN, a flood of familiar high stakes faces strewn out in all directions as they assembled for FFPC’s very rare (thanks a lot Obama) Wednesday night NFL Kickoff Party!

Being foiled by the big security dudes working the door, I was forced to register and get my magic bracelet!

I recalled wondering “Should I remove my shades for the singing of our National Anthem?”, then doing so just in case. It was awesome to be in stealth mode this year, sporting a head full of hair plus beard after close to fourteen years of being razor blade bald-topped. Unrecognized, I was being walked right by, and in turn I was able to sneak up and surprise many people who otherwise would have spotted me.

Jeff (Fish) had his twenty two year old son Taylor along this year, which was great! Another ten years or so and I’ll be doing the same with my sons. Lots of hand shaking and reintroducing the hairy version of myself to all of the message board regulars as well as the powers that be at the FFPC.

Cowboy fans were out in full force, led by Kirk (KO Krew), and the cheering was loud as they got what they wanted that night.

Par for the course, the wildness level shot up once the Day Drinkers rolled into the party. I recall a 1970’s retro version of Howard Co-Balky, complete with sideburns, hairpiece and a powder blue sport coat and tie, interviewing the Day Drinkers under bright lights with rolling video. The fear kicked in a bit, wondering if I was in control enough to handle that kind of a scenario.

Not yet.

I recall two beautiful and tall women luring me into their lair and winding up with a nice photo of them with me in the middle, wondering how I’d keep from losing or ruining it without a bag. I thought I’d remedy that dilemma by purchasing some FFPC swag, but once again I went bag-less. I believe 2013 may have some FFPC plastic bags printed up, as not having one sucked in the slightest and least powerful sort of way.

From then on, the night was a blur of fist bumps, spiking drinks, blackjack tables, taxi lines and vampires.

I thanked my lucky stars that somehow, the buddy system worked and I managed to be saved and returned to the Rio, and in turn my room, shortly after sunrise.

Thursday, September 6th.

Having no set plans for this day, other than the FFPC Appreciation Party much later, I managed to sleep in quite late, finally deciding enough was enough around 2:30pm. Little did I know that by doing so I missed out on a classic Day Drinker Jason moment! Verified by the video captured on someone’s phone, the story as I recall being told to me went something like this, but I’m sure Josh or others who saw it live would have far better details.

A fairly nice gathering of party animals after a late night out, likely either still buzzed from the previous night, or certainly from the morning’s imbibing when somehow the subject of who’s faster comes up, and it’s on.

A small pile of hundred dollar bills on the convention center carpet, and the thoroughbred bets are in!

Pacing off and standing as human checkpoints spread out at ten yard increments, the forty yard dash setting is official.

Barefoot and stretching with tall tales of past track & field glory mixed with a few warmup jumps, and the race is about to begin!

In the blue corner we have Taylor, age 22, a former Texas football player and track runner with low body fat, and the look of a youth in his prime. In the red corner we have Day Drinker Jason, another former athlete, closer to 30 with a bit more insulation, but never underestimate the crazy factor, which he has in spades.

With the last second betting complete, they are off!

Clean and legitimate start for both barefoot superstars as they really give their all, galloping in full sprint through the lumpy, downhill portion of the Rio Convention Center hall at high noon on a sunny Thursday in Vegas.

In a virtual dead heat through three checkpoints, Jason manages to pull slightly ahead at the end, finishing with a textbook sprinters lunge to secure the victory over the young favorite! The crowd goes wild!

While winding down his speed something goes terribly wrong with Jason’s footing, and the lumpy downhill hall takes its toll, as he tumbles down in a heap, winding up with a jacked-up shoulder and rug burn for days.

A bag of ice and an appointment with his rooms bed, and he is never seen again. DAMN, I wish I could have seen that live!

I’m already struggling to string together the bits and pieces of memory I have.

I recall moments, but which day it was is the hard part. After hearing Josh tell me the bad news of how I missed out on the above, it was time to find them at the bar now. “Boob’s, Love ‘Em” and their crew were out in full force, along with the Gill’s, with most of us trying to put the previous nights details in some logical order.

Was this the day I stumbled out of my room on the way to the elevator and randomly ran into Day Drinker Josh on his way to the in-room draft with the Boob’s Crew? I recall a bathtub filled with ice and beers, a stack of pizza’s being delivered, and listening to Zach dictate a very professional ad-lib breakdown summary of each teams final roster.

I recall running into and sitting down for a healthy meal with Mike (4D) and his bubbly (in both spirit and tummy) daughter Ashley, along with Joe (Baker Boy) before the “Off-the-Grid” draft. That was a crazy awesome setup for a league, with some real heavy hitters.

Was this the day I got stressed over a total breakdown in communication between Rich (Codecraker) and his team of traveling mates? Josh and I figured there’s NO WAY The Smartest Man Alive could get swallowed up by Las Vegas, and time would prove us right, as he was in fact still alive, albeit most likely in the fetal position with curtains sealed and pillows over his ears as he dealt with the Migraine From Hell.

Time to clean up and hit the FFPC Player Appreciation party at the Voodoo Lounge on top of the Rio!

Crystal clear Vegas night. A Who’s Who of the fantasy football world, with guys like BillyWaz, Menobrown, Glenneration X, 4D, Fish and son, and the regular version of Balky!

Mike (4D), Eric (Balky), Jeff and Taylor.

Red colored drinks and some amazingly blurry snapshots, with the occasional one that came out somewhat clear.

Michael, Billy and Glenn. (menobrown, BillyWaz and Glenneration X)

Me explaining my vision of the cloud Zeus pose. (sportsbettingman)

The view reminded me of the movie The Hangover, just an awesome perspective of Vegas from up there. I’m not so sure what happened after that. I remember watching Mike (9 Route) and Randy (Latham) play blackjack past 3:30am, and even have a photo of the “Gunslinger” dealer waving his finger, telling me not to take any photos!

Mike with Randy behind him. (Route 9 and Latham)

Once again I did not hit the room until there were hints of sun creeping over the mountains. Are there mountains near Vegas?

Friday, September 7th.

DRAFT DAY!

This is the day I make my mark. This is why I’m here.

Cocktail league names complete the good vibes for my Year of Destiny!

Just not quite yet.

I’m guessing this was the day I woke up at a more reasonable noon, and forced myself to hit up the Rio pool scene. For some odd reason, many years I just piss away all four or five days without swimming at all, but not this time! With my blood fully prepped with party needs, I slapped on my headphones, and headed down.

Walking through the casino blasting “All I Do is Win” (DJ Khaled) or “Super Bass” (Nicki Minaj) or the like had me feeling like I was a character in a movie. Running into Zach and the extended Boobs Crew at the pool was great! Those slushy drinks were delicious!

Shane, Zach & the Boobs Crew and Day Drinker Josh with the dual hand slushy hold.

I recall at one point standing waist deep in the pool, surrounded by cool folks, headphones blasting and looking up at the Vegas sun cutting over the Rio rooftop, blasting us with 104 degrees and wishing I could bottle that feeling.

Complete chill mode. Boobs: Love ‘em would go on to draft the team that led the entire event for the regular season for a $2500.00 prize!

All senses were peaking. Nailing people with the double thumbs up high five arrows with that Hunger Games arrow pull, including the close-to-face thumb screwing up the lip area like a pro archer! Life was good.

Eventually it was time to clean up again and gather the cheatsheet, another water bottle full of vodka, and the vibe setting music which I planned to blast all draft long!

Our league was mellow and relaxed, with Ormond (KOTRAX), Roger (Sideline Sage) and Mike (9 Route) as well as two other teams that were familiar foes.

Ormond (KOTRAX) in the middle and Mike (Route 9) on the far right.

The best “enemies” a guy could ask for. Great people all around.

Like Bruce Lee, my plan was no plan. I had no way as way.

I adapted and tried to squeeze some sort of advantage out of the dreaded 10 slot, and when the dust settled I liked my new battalion.

One of us three went on to win the league.

Julio, Brandon, Percy, Vernon, Frank and JerMichael were my core. Thanks to low scoring opponents, I sit happily at 2-0 today. Long way to go, but this is very unfamiliar territory, as I have not won week one since 2006 I believe.

Cruising around looking at draft boards like the last folks to move out of a ghost town, I got the chance to listen to, and analyze many strategies from many draft slots. Fun bullshitting with the hardest core players around. One highlight was being gifted a magic rock from The Wizard!

Embracing my Zeus pose with Taylor and the infamous Wizard!

Once again it gets hazy here, and I’m not certain if things took place on Friday night or Saturday night, but who cares, right?

I recall rolling with Alex and deciding to head back up to the top of the Rio for that killer view and some drinks. I believe we managed to just wander in past the busy cover charge person, and the next thing you know we were heading up the elevator to the top floor.

Cigars and drinks and blasting beats, another Vegas night without a cloud in the sky to provide us with a few cool snap shots for old times sake.

The night rolled on and on, and the next thing I recall was waking up in my room mid Saturday, sun going strong, fully clothed just plopped on top of the perfectly made bed.

That was some much needed sound sleep.

Saturday, September 8th.

Once the cobwebs cleared out and the brain was re-hydrated, I got to make the standard phone calls back home, breaking down my team to those who should have been here with me.

No plans for this day, but I recall doing the mortal sin of bragging up a placed sports bet in the Rio Sportsbook, and of course going down in flames. The 1K on Nebraska had three quarters of entertainment value, but the pick-six ended the fun. Scott (Team Legacy) and Claudia (Nurse Ratched) got their UCLA pick to come through.

Once again I’m not certain if I am mixing Friday or Saturday’s memories together, but one clear memory was hooking up with Kenny (Mr. High), Tommy (Dr. J) and George (Goose) and rocking some with them.

There aren’t many rallying cries that will equal Goose when he enthusiastically proclaims “Let’s BOOZE!” It’s like he’s the Pied Piper, and I’m a rat happily caught in the spell.

And Booze we did, along with Dave I believe, the other half of team “Win or Lose, We Still Booze.” At some point we decided to pool our efforts and hit up one of those $100 per pull slot machines, agreeing to split our winnings.

It was a fun few pulls!

Like I said, my Friday and Saturday recall is all mixed, but I do remember getting into a limo with Josh, Boobs Crew and more, and I believe winding up at the Wynn, where we shot some pool and I got to enjoy my first visit to that casino.

A very high end, classy place.

I have no recall of how the night ended or when I got back to my room. Maybe someday soon the memory will reappear.

Sunday, September 9th.

Happy to see the familiar faces of Kurt Awe and The Real Leroy and his friend in the taxi line, as all four of us big dudes squeezed into a cab and muttered “Monte Carlo”.

My body is working on all sub-systems now. The four days of abuse still hidden by the adrenaline rush of Kickoff Sunday in Vegas.

This was one of the biggest and best days of the trip!

All of our drafted players IN LIVE ACTION! NFL parlays rolling along with dreams of glory.

John (Syracuse Slappers) arranged a sweet private party with five hours of top shelf open bar and fully catered with plenty of seating for all.

The games seemed to be giving me a touchdown for each player I drafted! I had a solid parlay with the Niners moneyline, Washington moneyline, and Seattle moneyline. $120 would have paid like $2380 had Russell Wilson been able to convert on one of those seven or eight tries inside the 15 yard line with 1:40 remaining in the game.

Ouch. I re-watched that game at home, and it really was a great defensive stand by Arizona.

Back to the party.

AWESOME gathering with virtually everyone in the story above, along with Alex, Lenny and Chrissy. I got to sit around and bullshit with Wayne and his crazy buddy Bob! He reminded me of my uncle Brian, and he had me laughing the entire weekend. Dude is a nut in the best way. I got to meet Kurt Kuekes and Todd Hunter (great guys) for the first time, as well as re-meet David Hubbard, Jack Haan, Mike Santos, Tommy Yates, Dave (Desert Snake) and many more as we watched the games unfold.

Jack Haan in white behind Tommy Yates. Hubbard in front with Wayne and Bob behind him.

By the end of this party, I was a zombie.

All my reserves were used up, and we happily piled back into a cab with the same folks we came there with, returning to the safety of the Rio.

I was so used up I made my phone calls early and then went down and bought some more Gatorade and water and tried my best to watch the Sunday Night Game while sweating underneath my covers.

I looked down and puzzled over my swollen feet. Where did all of the bones go? Was this alcohol poisoning?

I did not last the entire game, instead opting to toss and turn, shiver and sweat.

My dreams were an insane mix of talking trees, jet black eyes, and earthquakes. Very disturbing dreams.

I had to use all of my will power to just remain calm, to just keep breathing.

I managed to force myself to get up and wobble slowly to the refrigerator to keep hydrating myself over and over, all night long.

Three separate wake up calls, followed by a coffee at the Vegas airport, and I was feeling back on the mend.

Our return flight had a gem of a flight attendant who made the trek home sound like a charming trip on Disneyland’s Jungle Cruise. She had perfect comic timing and wit, and helped immensely at easing the pain I was in.

A few vows to never stay more than four nights in that city again for fear of self inflicted death, and here I am, Screwdriver in hand, almost tired of the effort it took to recollect what was another classic weekend in Vegas.

So many casual cameo’s that roll by in a blur, like the ever-wandering Terp, or meeting Garret Matheny, Eric Reeves and Mike Trent for the first time. I recall running into Jules, Russ, Zaleski, Coots, Culligan, Lou, Dodds, Duckworth, a yoked James Duggan, and seeing all of the heavyweight players at their respective top level games like Chad, Hubbard, Glenn, KJ Duke, etc.

Either I was running on pure subconscious when I ran into them, or I just plain missed some regulars like the Pittsburgh Mafia, Nostradamross, Mike Anderson, and a bagful of others that are staples of the yearly migration.

A special Thank You goes out to the entire FFPC team for hosting such great parties, and to John Haskell as well for the Sunday Viewing Party!

A total and complete success of a weekend!

Having the Day Drinkers in the top 15 overall after two weeks is icing on the cake!

I have a funny feeling I’ll be back next year.

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2012 Kickoff Weekend Flashback