O-P Field Trip: Verizon Center

As you may have noticed, I've been MIA the past week. A combination of a busy week at work and an inadequate Verizon DSL connection have conspired to keep you from experiencing my unique brand of humor. Or, at the very least, it's kept me from posting anything. To make up for it, I bring you this Very Special Entry: An officially sanctioned Opossum-Palooza Field Trip. (To find out how you can get your field trip sanctioned by the O-P, email opossum-palooza@hotmail.com.) This time around, the field trippers were myself and sometimes contributor DefDude. The occasion was Alex Ovechkin Calder Trophy (pictured) Tribute Night.

I could now go ahead and bore you with stories about the tribute ceremony (pointless photo-op followed by a pretty good video montage of Ovechkin's first season highlights) or stories of the game itself (a frustrating 4-3 overtime loss to the Atlanta Thrashers, for details go here), but I won't. Instead I will spend some time discussing the man in the Alex Ovechkin sweater sitting at the end of the row in front of us. We were lucky enough to be sitting in a section (430) with some most excellent Capitals fans who were knowledgable, funny and overall entertaining to be around. This man, however, was not any of those things. We knew we were in for some trouble when he was screaming at the people in front of him for moving to their seats while play was going on (fair point, but there are nicer ways of saying it than "Jesus, I paid good money for these seats! Sit the fuck down!"). He then proceeded to scream every single uninformed, ignorant thing you would expect to hear from someone who has almost no knowledge of the game. Whether it was trying to convince Alex Semin to shoot the puck (right before Semin made a gorgeous pass to Jamie Heward for a tap-in goal), or screaming at the Caps for not hitting more, the man could not have been any more obnoxious if he tried. The best part, however, was when, while play was still going, he pulled out his cell phone and started yammering away. The cell phone, of course, was decorated with a Number 8. No, not that number eight. That number eight. In an unfortunate turn of events, he also had a young boy of about eight or nine (whom I can only assume was his son) with him. They both left at the end of regulation, rather than stay and watch overtime.

But enough whining about the bad fans, let's get on with the pictures:

The view from our seats.

The commemorative coin. In very nice packaging.

DefDude, DefDude's unfortunate facial hair, and Alex Ovechkin's Calder Trophy.

What can I say? I was in a "take pictures of trophies" kind of mood.

Sadly, the poor digital zoom on my camera phone didn't allow me to get good pictures of "Fatty McGee" (DefDude's nickname of the jerk at the end of the row) or the clever gentleman with the number 69 jersey sitting a few rows in front of us. So this will have to be enough for you. I leave you with this, possibly the worst picture of me ever taken:

Another O-P Field Trip - With Booze, Of Course

As some folks around here know, I am a fan of Rugby in general and the New Zealand All-Blacks in particular. Jonah Lomu has long been my Rugby boyfriend. It has come to my attention that there is a fund-raiser this weekend involving, from the press release, "a traditional Irish breakfast, Kiwi meat pies and assorted beverages." (yum). The beneficiary is Alexandria Rugby, an organization that indoctrinates the small-fries into the love of this violently beautiful game.
The event is a televised viewing of the Tri-Nations rugby match between the New Zealand All Blacks and the South Africa Springboks as a fundraiser on Saturday, September 2, 9:00 AM, at O'Connell's Restaurant and Bar in Old Town, Alexandria. There is no charge for entry and all proceeds benefit Alexandria Rugby.

So if the above picture of the two gentleman in black crushing the little Springbok in green intrigues, or even (as it does for me) excites you, please join me to eat, drink and talk shit about a sport hardly any American cares about (Biff's note: My favorite kind of sport). Oh, come on, it'll make you feel all superior.

And if the game itself isn't enough, you should come for the Haka alone. Awesomely fearsome tradition.

RFK Part II: The Pictures

Okay. Sorry for the delay there. It looks like we've finally worked through all the technical difficulties, so now on to the pictures.

(Siobhan's Note: As Biff drinks beer, his hand grows less steady. Some of these shots look as though they were taken by Katharine Hepburn)

The Hat







The View From Our Seats



The Steam Cleaned Concourse



The Wave





The Corporate Suite



The Closest Thing to Improved Concessions That Biff Could Find





The Reason Biff Couldn't Find Burrito Brothers Next to Section 120





The Douchebag With the Popped Collar



Siobhan's Ass - On my way to smoke and get more beer



The Red Carpet After the Game





And last but not least...

The President Race!!!













For further coverage of all the Grand ReOpening fun, go here and/or here.

Also, huge thanks go out to BigTDog for providing the photographic equipment needed to make this happen. His selfless act makes him the first official Friend of the Opossum Palooza (FOP for short).

"Get Your Red On"

As promised, the O-P team attended Friday night's Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Stadium Grand Reopening Red Carpet Extravaganza. Needless to say, we arrived late like the quality journalists that we are. We walked past the inflatable wonderland that was the Nats' Fan Zone on East Capitol Street and arrived at the red carpet just in time to hear the fireworks that accompany "rockets' red glare" during the national anthem. Unlike other nights, though, the anthem was also accompanied by a flyover and a bevy of fireworks at the end of the song as well. (Biff's theory: Extra unused "Nats Win!" fireworks.) Standing in line waiting for tickets, we were at least able to see, via television screen in the Team Store, the first pitch being thrown out by the "US Armed Services" (whatever that means).

Upon entering the stadium, we were each handed a (surprisingly good quality) red "W" baseball cap (sponsored by Tickets.com). (Siobhan's Note: These hats smelled like what I remember Wal*Mart smells like: shoddy workmanship and cheap child-labor) After finding our way to our seats (we entered the seating bowl to the tune of Ridin' Dirty, thanks in no small part to Ryan Zimmerman), the rest of the evening proceeded more or less as usual.

As far as the "improvements", a quick rundown of the concourse by Biff found very little to get excited about (Siobhan's Note: Burrito Brothers is next to Section 120, if you're interested - and I think you are.)

All in all, it was a pretty exciting evening, but the fact of the matter is, nothing will do it justice like pictures. Pictures are what you need, and pictures are what you'll get. As soon as we figure out how to make our computers work.

Siobhan's Note: There is still a shockingly small number of beer vendors in the 500-level seats; Budweiser was in troublingly short supply. Cotton candy more your thing? (If it is, I have no idea why you're reading this blog, by the way) I saw roughly 5 vendors of the cloyingly sweet confection to every beer vendor.

Wee! An RFK fieldtrip!

Tomorrow night marks the "Grand Re-opening" of RFK Stadium and the Washington Nationals here in Washington, and we here at the Opossum-Palooza would be remiss if we failed to cover the "event". Thus, we will be attending tomorrow night's game and reporting on all the exciting goings-on. You can expect a full report on the new and improved RFK (if not a new and improved team) sometime over the weekend. There may even be pictures.

Siobhan's note: What with the steam-cleaned concourse and the large-headed presidential mascots running the bases, it may be too much excitement for me.
Any and all are welcome to join us. If you want a piece of the action, email me: bosoxsiobhan(at)gmail.com - I promise not to get as drunk as I was at the Deadspin field trip. Saturday is my old man's birthday, which means happy fun family day in VA. That'll be bad enough without a raging gin-based hangover