Extra P_int Invites Chris Peterson

Sports BarWelcome to the Extra P_int, the sports bar where the beer is always cold and the patrons are all slightly less informed than most. (Apologies to Garrison Keillor.)

“Hey, Scribbler, come on in!” welcomed Dennis McDonnell, the owner and bartender of the P_int.  By the time I got to my usual stool he had a Mirror Pond dripping on a brightly colored printed coaster.  The bright colors caught my eye.  Usually he settled for white, message-free, bar-sized napkins.

“What’s this?” I asked, picking up the coaster.  It read Watch the Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives Marathon here Jan 9th at 5:00. “Really?  During the BCS game?”

“Ab-so-posi-tutely!” he said.  “I ain’t kidding about this protest over that do-over game.”  He showed me a big box of printed coasters waiting to appear on the bar and tables of the P_int.  “And I got more news than that!”

I shrugged off my winter coat and sipped my beer before asking, “What?”

“Guess who I tweeted?” Dennis said, leaning across the bar and lowering his voice.

“Guy Fieri?” I said, playing along.

“Who?”

“The host for Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives!”

“Nah, but that’s a good idea.  I tweeted Chris Peterson, the pissed-off coach at Boise State, and invited him to the Anti-BCS bash.”

“I know who Chris Peterson is,” I said.  “You hear back?”

“Wants to know if there’s an appearance fee.  I told him there’s no cover.”

“That’s not what he meant, Dennis.  He wants to know if you’ll pay him to show up.”

“Why should I?  What else has he got going?  He sure as hell ain’t coaching in no game!”  He pointed at me and gave the finger a shake.  “Which is kinda the point.”

“Sure, but driving himself from Boise to Portland to not watch the game is a bit of a slight.  He’s trying to upgrade his image.”

“You mean he might fly to Vegas to drink Champagne instead?  OH, wait a sec!  He’s already done that with the MAACO Car Care Bowl.  Hang on.”  He went down the bar to serve another customer.

I drank my beer and considered that Dennis might be right.  What else would Peterson have going during the BCS fiasco?  He might even consider Dennis’s idea a statement.

“The way I see it,” McDonnell said, as if reading my thoughts, “Peterson comes here and watches the Food Channel with a bunch of Duck and Beaver fans.  What better way to say I’d do anything not to watch?  He’s a cinch to get his picture everywhere.  If I paid him, it would cheapen the moment.”

“I think you’re on to something, Dennis, but I don’t think you should count on Chris Peterson no matter how mad he is.  You might want to keep Plan B handy.”

“Which is what?”

“Guy Fieri!  Duh!” I said, losing my patience, which I rarely do.  “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives could be a big deal!  Hold a contest.  Ask the Habitués to bring their favorite hot snack.  Set up a buffet table and have Nadine pick the best two or three.  Think of the saving on food.  Your customers are bringing their own!”

He walked away without a word, then came back carrying a fresh pint of Mirror Pond and set it in front of me.

“On the house,” he said, his voice cracking from the unusual phrase that slipped from his lips.  “That’s a great freaking idea!”

“The winning snacks go on the menu when Fieri’s here filming the specialties of the house.”

“Yeah, I like it,” he said, nodding slowly.  “Tell me the truth, Scribbler.  What do you think of this Anti-BCS thing?”

“Well, there have to be fifty million people who think the BCS sucks.  I think you’re on to something.”

He kept nodding.  “Parking’s going to be a problem if they all show.”  He walked away leaving me to my free beer.

“Oh,” he said, coming back and leaning close again, “don’t say nothing about the on-the-house beer, okay?”

He turned away again, but stopped before he took a step.

“Scribbler, you think those morons in the BCS would have done that do-over if the game had been in Pasadena?”

I set my beer down and looked at him.  For once I had nothing to say because he’d just asked the perfect question.

More soon from where the beer is always cold and the patrons are slightly less informed than most.

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