Labour Day Classic
Distract him, she said, he needs a distraction
Take him to the Labour Day Classic and make him forget
So they did it, found me a ticket
Gave me a flask beforehand to put down my pants
I took a pull on the pipe to see if it would help me take the lead headed beefcake less personally, I was right
Along with the throngs of red and white
The image of the pilgrimage seemed an elegant sight
Thousands converging with props and noisemakers to partake in the dance of the gladiators
The kickoff ensues and Ted says "It's funny but true I gotta say I pity and I envy you"
Go, go, go, S - O - L - O!
I don't know what I'm here for, I don't know what to cheer for
The thin moustached, baseball capped guy beside me's a drywall contractor
"It's goin' pretty good but it always goes good if you're good at what you do
There's room in a boom for hacks, but you won't get contracts when everything dips
'cause shit sinks; Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Sweet! See that?"
Security with sunglasses at every section, trained at detecting the obvious
Tossing the smoker and the drunk joker who playfully threatens to backhand three young Edmonton fans
I think security's looking my way, Sam Lowry, Joseph K., dogged into giving in that guilt is implicit in living
But there, to the rescue, girls parading, jailbaiting back and forth with popcorn and licorice, squeezing their breasts tight into Playboy and Coors light
Giggling when strangers tap their ass or laugh and slap an Eat More Beef sticker on their back
Half time horn blows-" Stay tuned for Cuba Gooding Junior, he's filming on location and stopping at the stadium!"
Well, I wonder what catch phrase he's going to bray
I wish I could get paid to say it
I hope Mom's doing fine, I hope you feel you can call anytime
That woman at the dog show? She was just a friend, and anyway, she called me, I won't be seeing her again
Word on the street's the parakeets are flying, I'd love to see them when we're ready but I know I know I know I know
While we muddle through I need you to know that I'm suffering too- "Show me the money".
Concourse people watch, buddies clutch drunk buddies, usher them out of the way of the cops
Gang of girls' own halftime show- "I'd rather be a homo than a fuckin' Eskimo!"
Long line of men before porcelain, the pungent, potent smell of urine as clear beer piss attacks the cakes, everyone shakes and staggers on, riding and teasing anyone in yellow or green
Third quarter, it's tight, players scrap and fight,
Despite myself I'm caring, standing, sharing whiskey, staring through binoculars
Amazed at the speed and fluid passing plays
Galloping horse, poor stressed horse, Ted says last year after a touchdown ride one had a heart attack and died
My telescopic leer, I imagine the cheerleaders in 25 years, the superior sneers turned mortal fears
And it's hot, and I'm riddled with doubt, and the pace of the game is petering out
And my ear's throbbing where I got stung, the buzz is fading and I'm waiting
The clock stops and starts and stops
And I'll come back for practice tonight, and see the car on the street, and the light on inside, and I'll hope you're reading or sleeping or finally got a television, but for a moment not wondering why we stopped trying
And I will half heartedly jog around the block in the morning to clear out the booze from my blood and the newspaper boxes I pass will all say 'A True Classic- A Thriller- Stampeders Deliver on Labour Day'
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