07-08-2020, 04:59 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-10-2020, 01:16 PM by Fordhammer.)
Look, I think I'm a pretty non-controversial guy. I get along alright with my teammates and the league normally doesn't go after me for punishments. I try really hard but I'm a pretty sensitive guy. So when Flash Panda stole my lunch from the fridge it didn't ruin my life or anything but it was still upsetting.
So listen, it's Sunday evening and me and the squad just got finished with training and we're all in the locker room hanging out, getting back in street clothes, just chatting. And Brandon Booker starts talking about how the previous night he had had some chicken tikka masala that it was incredible. And he's going on and on about the spices, and the sauce consistency, and I'm over there getting hungry, right?
I'm not a master chef or anything, but I decide I'll go to the store after practice and pick up a bunch of ingredients so I can make this wonderous English-by-way-of-India dish, and I don't even know what it is. I don't know what a Tikka is, and I sure as hell have never heard of a Masala. Either way I bought the shit and went home to cook it.
So things go pretty well in the kitchen and suddenly I've got this meal in front of me, and you know me, I love having leftovers. Why cook twice when you could only cook once, you know? So I make way too much and throw the rest in my fridge (it was delicious by the way).
So I take my leftovers to work the next day; Luckily San Jose had a fridge in their locker room so I could store my goods there. I personally like to have a big meal at halftime during games, I find that it either pushes me to the next level to finish out a tough game, or it destroys my intestines and I'm basically useless. That's a risk I'm willing to take.
So it's halftime and we're basically beating up on the Sabercats and I'm getting ready to chow down on some eastern cuisine, but before I can even figure out where their microwave is I come upon a true tragedy: My chicken tikka Masala is missing. So at first I'm like, "Did I misplace my food? Perhaps put it in my locker by mistake?" But twasn't the case dear readers, it had been taken. All that was left was the Tupperware.
So coach is droning on about tackling or some bullshit but I'm focused on what's important: identifying the monster who stole my food.
My first thought was Booker. He was raving about this dish last night so I know he lusts for it. His motive is established, but I've never seen him take advantage of the fridges in every locker room, and he's generally a pretty straight shooter. He's the kind of guy who'll just ask for some of your cold locker room food, not steal it.
Next I had to consider my friend Matt Cross. It would be a hard pill to swallow, but he must've smelled me making it last night and silently pined for those spicy savory notes of a well cooked chicken tikka masala. He would know he's above suspicion, and perhaps that makes him the most suspicious of all. But no, Matt had been near me all night, it would've had to be someone on offense, or perhaps a malicious third party who knew how to strike us where we're weakest.
Finally I realized Panda had sauce all over his mouth and paws and his breath smelled even worse than usual. It could only be him.
So I confronted him. I try to shy away from confrontation most of the time, but I had to avenge my dish. I had to get to the bottom of this. And would you believe it, this panda plays the animal card and starts acting like he can't speak english. He's just going on in grunts and shrugs and I'm like come on dude, I know better. Panda's an eloquent speaker and I even own his book of poetry ("Can Cherry Blossoms Bloom on the Gridiron?" Here's a haiku that really spoke to me: "Without receptions / A receiver is like a / Panda sans bamboo")
So I'm just trying to get him to apologize so we can go on with the night, but he's being obstinate as fuck and just going "Huh? Huh?" Finally I just get so angry I tell him to go chew on some bamboo and that's when shit all hit the fan. Me and this anthropomorphic panda are just arguing in the tunnel and eventually I had enough and just put my helmet on and stood far away from him on the sidelines.
It took me completely out of my element, I barely did anything that game. We still won, but I was weak and hungry and wish I had contributed more. And the worst part? He still hasn't apologized! The gall of this bear! He knows he did me wrong and just doesn't care! It really grinds my gears.
Anyway there isn't really a point to this story but it made me really mad so I wanted to get it out there in hopes it can provide comfort to somebody who's suffering through the same or a similar problem.
(891 words)
So listen, it's Sunday evening and me and the squad just got finished with training and we're all in the locker room hanging out, getting back in street clothes, just chatting. And Brandon Booker starts talking about how the previous night he had had some chicken tikka masala that it was incredible. And he's going on and on about the spices, and the sauce consistency, and I'm over there getting hungry, right?
I'm not a master chef or anything, but I decide I'll go to the store after practice and pick up a bunch of ingredients so I can make this wonderous English-by-way-of-India dish, and I don't even know what it is. I don't know what a Tikka is, and I sure as hell have never heard of a Masala. Either way I bought the shit and went home to cook it.
So things go pretty well in the kitchen and suddenly I've got this meal in front of me, and you know me, I love having leftovers. Why cook twice when you could only cook once, you know? So I make way too much and throw the rest in my fridge (it was delicious by the way).
So I take my leftovers to work the next day; Luckily San Jose had a fridge in their locker room so I could store my goods there. I personally like to have a big meal at halftime during games, I find that it either pushes me to the next level to finish out a tough game, or it destroys my intestines and I'm basically useless. That's a risk I'm willing to take.
So it's halftime and we're basically beating up on the Sabercats and I'm getting ready to chow down on some eastern cuisine, but before I can even figure out where their microwave is I come upon a true tragedy: My chicken tikka Masala is missing. So at first I'm like, "Did I misplace my food? Perhaps put it in my locker by mistake?" But twasn't the case dear readers, it had been taken. All that was left was the Tupperware.
So coach is droning on about tackling or some bullshit but I'm focused on what's important: identifying the monster who stole my food.
My first thought was Booker. He was raving about this dish last night so I know he lusts for it. His motive is established, but I've never seen him take advantage of the fridges in every locker room, and he's generally a pretty straight shooter. He's the kind of guy who'll just ask for some of your cold locker room food, not steal it.
Next I had to consider my friend Matt Cross. It would be a hard pill to swallow, but he must've smelled me making it last night and silently pined for those spicy savory notes of a well cooked chicken tikka masala. He would know he's above suspicion, and perhaps that makes him the most suspicious of all. But no, Matt had been near me all night, it would've had to be someone on offense, or perhaps a malicious third party who knew how to strike us where we're weakest.
Finally I realized Panda had sauce all over his mouth and paws and his breath smelled even worse than usual. It could only be him.
So I confronted him. I try to shy away from confrontation most of the time, but I had to avenge my dish. I had to get to the bottom of this. And would you believe it, this panda plays the animal card and starts acting like he can't speak english. He's just going on in grunts and shrugs and I'm like come on dude, I know better. Panda's an eloquent speaker and I even own his book of poetry ("Can Cherry Blossoms Bloom on the Gridiron?" Here's a haiku that really spoke to me: "Without receptions / A receiver is like a / Panda sans bamboo")
So I'm just trying to get him to apologize so we can go on with the night, but he's being obstinate as fuck and just going "Huh? Huh?" Finally I just get so angry I tell him to go chew on some bamboo and that's when shit all hit the fan. Me and this anthropomorphic panda are just arguing in the tunnel and eventually I had enough and just put my helmet on and stood far away from him on the sidelines.
It took me completely out of my element, I barely did anything that game. We still won, but I was weak and hungry and wish I had contributed more. And the worst part? He still hasn't apologized! The gall of this bear! He knows he did me wrong and just doesn't care! It really grinds my gears.
Anyway there isn't really a point to this story but it made me really mad so I wanted to get it out there in hopes it can provide comfort to somebody who's suffering through the same or a similar problem.
(891 words)
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![[Image: giphy.gif]](https://media2.giphy.com/media/v1.Y2lkPTc5MGI3NjExbDZ0bTh3cWZpdDl6YmNhYTQ2bGR1eWd4NjE4aHZ0dWYwbDhvbjdqMiZlcD12MV9pbnRlcm5hbF9naWZfYnlfaWQmY3Q9Zw/X1mNu6CA6AcircElKf/giphy.gif)
![[Image: ndvj4VD.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/ndvj4VD.jpeg)
