2002 TFL Convention: Chicago
First to arrive were Casey and Kirsten, having taken the red-eye from Anchorage. They went straight to the hotel and somehow convinced management to let them have their room, even though Scott Lacy had not arrived yet (the rooms were in his name). Michael Bourque arrived soon after. He called, wondering where Scotty was. Scotty left two days earlier to take a long drive and find himself. Sain left on Monday and spent that night in Cincinnati, where he dined on the best Indian food on the planet (Ambar's on Ludlow Ave.) and also added yet another Fudds to his impressive list (No. 42).
The hotel was truly in the heart of Chicago. The Hancock Center was across the street. We were right on the Miracle Mile. Everything you could want was within walking distance.
Scotty eventually arrived and it appeared he had lost himself, more than found himself. A group went to lunch at the Cheesecake Factory. It's a nationwide chain. If you've been, you know it has the best cheesecakes in the world. For those who have not, the menu is thick. Page after page of possible dinners. All meals are delicious and they give you huge portions. However, because of this there is usually a two-hour wait to eat and they don't take reservations.
Sain eventually arrived and had trouble checking in. He crashed with Casey and Kirsten, who were still recovering from the red-eye until the others were found.
Mike Taylor also arrived. There was a quick reunion in Bourque's room. Many lies were said. Remnants of truths were stretched. Old stories rehashed. Finally, hunger settled in.
The group (Scott, Ken, Mike T., Mike B., Casey and Kirsten) headed for the "expensive" dinner we tend to do at each convention. This time it was Ditka's, only a block away from the hotel. After some drinks, they settled in for the meal.
The steaks were excellent despite the $33 price tag that came with them. Others had burgers, and meatloaf. Desserts were ordered. The banana creme pie melted in your mouth.
After dinner, the group made the first of many trips to the local Walgreens for supplies. Casey later led the group to a liquor store. Mr. Brogan was most upset about the lack of people offering to sell a particular kind of weed. He would go the whole week without, which may be a first.
The Carlocks arrived later that night. Everyone found a room and slept.
The following day, Iggy arrived early and the group met in Bourque's room to get ready for the outing to Wrigley Field.
Scott and Ken announced they would not be going, because they had to set up for the draft. Donny offered to drive everyone to Wrigley in his van, so off they went. The game was played under a blistering sun. Mike Taylor came back looking like a lobster ready to be placed on your plate. Apparently after a 30-to-40 years of life, none in this group had heard of sun block.
During the course of the game, Mike Taylor was making inroads with a nice looking woman in a thong. They knew she was wearing a thong, because they had all seen it. She and her friend were talking to Taylor most of the game. At one point, they even made a comment about could a paralyzed woman keep her man happy. They agreed it depeneded on if she could still perform oral sex. They were surprised there was no reaction. Our TFL group did not hear the comment. So, they repeated it loudly enough for everyone in the bleachers to hear.
Still, the sun baked and finally the group began to head for cover. They did not stick around to watch the Cubs finish off the Brewers, but left early.
Scott and Ken checked into the draft suite. After an initial set up, they headed for Johnny Rockets, for the pre-game burger fest. Scotty was in heaven. Back to the draft, everything was ready when the owners began arriving near 7 p.m. local time.
The draft went very smoothly. Ken, the tyrant that he is, had done his Chicken Little routine for weeks, trying to scare everyone with the prospect of a 7-hour draft. There are rumors that he was very eager to skip over an owner early in the draft for taking too long, just to set a tone and get the other owners a little more motivated. That happened when Charles Bingham thought he had four minutes to make two picks. (Where has he been for the past 12 years?)
Luckily, the players Charles wanted were not gobbled up by the owner behind him so no harm was done. And, it did set a tone. The draft was over in 4.5 hours, which is the second fastest draft since the conventions began.
During the draft, Casey and Wit continued their tradition of butting heads, and using tequila to dull the pain and their senses. Pizza was ordered and consumed. Libations were swallowed. Much fun was had.
Since the first of us was scheduled to leave that afternoon, the annual Touch Classic Football Game was played first thing. The sides were Mike Taylor, Mike Bourque and Scott Lacy on one side. Wit Tuttell, Casey Brogan and Donny Carlock on the other. For the first time in TC history, the game was a rout. And, it wasn't that close. Iggy, Casey and Donny had scored four times before the other side could muster a first down. Originally, they were going to play to 5 TDs, but since the Tuttell/Brogan/Carlock team was nearly there without breaking a sweat, they increased it.
The highlights included a physical battle between Lacy and Brogan. Lacy would stay in to block, and Brogan was rushing. They two went at it so hard that at one point QB Mike Taylor admitted he quit looking for his open receiver to watch.
With the score about 34-1, the Lacy/Taylor/Bourque team finally gave up and everyone returned to the hotel. Showers were taken. we set off for lunch and found a sandwich shop where they boast they make the world's fastest subs. It's no boast. You order your sub the way you like. You pay, then they hand you a paper cup for your soda. You walk around to fill the drink and they're trying to hand you your sub before you can even fill your cup. We ate outside, enjoying a great week of Chicago weather. If the weather was like that year-round, 500 million people would live in Chicago. It was perfect all week.
Mr. Bourque had left us. The group remaining relaxes, shopped, chatted. That night, we headed out to find a place to watch the game. We landed on legendary Rush Street and found many options. We settled on one that did not appear too crowded and gave us a great view of a large-screen TV. We watched most of the game, then walked around a bit.
We headed back to the hotel, where the first of many late-night chats began. We probed many areas. How to fix the convention with this ESPN wrench thrown into the works; how to fix Ken's love life (surprisingly the homophobes were able to hang in there during that conversation); fatherhood (by our count, there are at least 10 children of TFL owners now); that enemy old age chasing after each of us).
It was a very low-key day, where most of the owners went out and did their own things. Casey and Kirsten went to an art museum. Ken pleaded on deaf ears for someone to join him for an outing to the Museum of Science and Industry. Scotty and Wit begged to be left alone to do some shopping for the significant others left at home. Mike Taylor joined them for lunch before he left the convention and returned to Denver.
That night, things got interesting. Casey, Kirsten, Scott, Wit and Ken went to Second City to catch a show, "Curious George Goes to War." Second City is where nearly all of the Saturday Night Live regulars got their start. Plus, many others. It's alumni list reads like a who's who of comedic talent since 1965. They perform a series of skits that you might see on SNL. The show was fantastic. One of the stars bios ended with the words, "Vote Green." Obviously, Ken had to be subdued from running up and kissing the guy on stage. But, the show had a political and social bent that appealed to all. After the show, the group found a foo-foo Mexican food restaurant to eat at. They all agreed after it was a mistake. Everything was expensive and pretty bad. There was nothing on the menu that appealed to anyone. But, no one spoke up, so all had to endure it.
Back to the hotel for more chats on how to fix Ken's sex life.
Scott, Wit and Ken woke up early and began the long drive to South Bend, Ind., where they planned to find a way into the sold out Purdue-Notre Dame college football game. The drive was about 90 minutes. When we first arrived, scalpers were offering tickets for $75 each. Scott said no.
We found parking and began a long hike to the stadium. They didn't need breadcrumbs to find their way back, but if it wasn't for Ken's anal nature, that might have been a good idea.
More negotiations went on with scalpers. Finally, Scott berated one guy until he was willing to let go of three tickets for $75, well under the $43 per ticket face value (the game had already started). Since we didn't have the exact amount, he asked for and received a $5 tip. The only problem was the three tickets were not together. It was another hot day, and Scotty was very concerned about his delicate skin. The trio spent the rest of the first half walking around looking at the stadium and people.
All three agreed there is nothing like scantilly-clad college students. If it wasn't Wit and Scott walking around with their tongues hanging out, it was Ken diverting his path so he could check out a shirtless wonder.
After halftime, Wit and Ken made their way to the seats. Scott sat down and hid from the sun. He must have looked pathetic, because two people came up and asked if he was OK. One old woman even gave him a bag of ice in the hopes it might hold off death.
Once in their seats, Ken and Wit noticed the sun wasn't that hot, just bright. The watched most of the third quarter of Notre Dame's win. Then, agreed to head back to Chicago.
Wit wanted to get there in time to see some game between Florida and Miami.
While Wit was watching alone in his room, Scott was saying goodbye to Donny and Tina, who took their two children and headed back to Michigan.
The group tried to get Second City tickets for that night. The comedy club runs two shows on two stages. Surprisingly, the shows were sold out on a Saturday night only two hours before show time. This surprised our heroes.
Casey and Kirsten had been out trying some of the world famous Chicago-style deep pan pizza. while the others were in South Bend. They agreed it lives up to its reputation. Casey says the crust is good enough to be found in any pastry shop.
That night, to appease a testy Ken, Scott and Wit agreed to join him at Ginos, one of the deep-pan pizza restaurants. Ken was getting bitchy because he had not done any of the things he wanted to do in Chicago. He and Wit dived into the deep-pan, while Scotty stuck to his New York style. He loved it.
After that, the remaining group went out to a nice bar. It had a pool table. A foosball table. An air hockey table. If it would have had a dart board, it would have been heaven. They played many games. Some won, others were humiliated. They drank. Ken made eyes with the DJ. Later, Scott and Wit tried to test out their gaydar by trying to pick out the queers in the room and asking Ken for his expert advice.
Back to the hotel for more chats.
There's no kind way to say this. The first day of the NFL season was a let down. Fuck you ESPN and the NFL. Three of the seven owners in attendance had already left. Another one was leaving before the games. began. Ken drove Wit to the airport, then went out in search of Fudds No. 43. Scott and Casey watched the first games of the day in the hotel room. Ken joined them later after hearing most of them on Score radio's around the NFL coverage.
Later that night, the four remaining members of the group decided to skp the Sunday night game (take that ESPN) and went to Second City instead to catch the other show, Thank Heaven it happened at Seven-11.
The show was good. Ken and Scott did not like it as much as the first. Casey and Kirsten liked it more. After the show the true highlight came. The actors did an improv session, where they would do skits on the fly based on suggestions from the audience. They do this for free after nearly every show (except Fridays). It was amazing to watch.
They went back to the hotels. Casey and Kirsten watched "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" on pay per view. Scott and Ken declined watching, because they both wanted to see it on the big screen.
Another day, another owner leaves. In this case, two. Scott decided he still needed to find himself and was going to leave a day early. He had to rush out to avoid paying another day of parking charges ($33 a night). So, he was gone. Casey and Kirsten were not far behind him. Their flight left at 6 p.m., so they went to lunch at Johnny Rockets with Ken. Then, got busy packing and preparing for the flight.
Ken was left alone in Chicago for the Monday night game. Without question, it was the most anticlimatic Monday night game at any convention in spite of the blowout.
The next day, Ken packed up and left Chicago, bringing the 2002 TFL convention to a close.
In retrospect, it was not as bad as some feared a mid-week draft convention might have been. Thank the great location and hotel rooms for that. However, I doubt many will list it among their favorites. Losing an owner a day. Only one owner left for the Monday night game. Not watching the Sunday games in a sports bar as a group. All that will hurt how it is remembered.
Where future conventions go from here is still open to debate. But, I think those who were in Chicago will agree that a mid-week convention just doesn't work.
© 2024, Times Football League