Dinky & Smalls Go Bowling
December 2001/January 2002
With jacko-rat #2 slated to destroy my 2002 football viewing season, it
was critical that massive amounts of gridiron enjoyment be partaken
during what remained of the 2001 season--and hence spawned the
amazing bowl adventure undertaken by Mr. Dinky J. Diggler and Mr.
Jackie Smalls Jr., esquire.

Our saga began at San Diego's Holiday Bowl, moved on to the Fiesta
Bowl in Phoenix and then culminated in a barrage of scrambled
eggs, Heineken and scarlet jumpers at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena.  
Along the way, we had plenty of fun and met lots of cool people--the
coolest of which was this rowdy Buffs fan to the left.
Anhdai, please
note: this woman hunted us down like a coyote after a couple of
harmless bunnies, simply because we were wearing CU gear at a
Ducks party. I'm totally innocent and in case you're wondering, I still
haven't noticed her mildly torn attire. It's all Dinky's fault. I repeat, I'm
I picked up the Dinkster at 4:30 and then drove like a bat out of hell
(didn't realize satanic bats drove Volvos, did you?) to Qualcomm for
the Holiday Bowl.  We were past the ticket guys by 6:00 and in line at
Gordon Biersch for quality brews no later than 6:02.
As usual, the Holiday Bowl rocked.  We missed the first quarter but
not a single point.  From the 2nd quarter on, both teams went
crazy--scoring something like 96 points. And the best part was that
Texas punked the Neuheisel-led Huskies in the last minute.
The next day, we took advantage of Dinky's 24 hours in OC by
assembling a Mud Bowl Championship.  Dinky pretty much shut
down the festivities by faking a knee injury and threatening to require
emergency medical assistance. Of course, we laughed him off.
Then it was off to sunny Phoenix with Anhdai and Zoe (pictured above
catching up on her current events while at a rest stop in hopping
Yuma, AZ). Zoe proved to be a pretty good little road tripper despite
her constant demands for the now-haunting Elmopalooza CD.
Upon arrival, Dinky & I ventured down to McDuffy's (renamed McBuffy's
for the Buff fans) for some pre-pre-pre-game libations. Aside from the
off-track dog-betting locals, the place was full of Buff fans.  They ran
out of kegs and margaritas before 11.
The next day, we kicked off New Year's Eve day by attending Gary
Barnett's alumni breakfast and buff-a-thon.  Zoe lasted all of 18.3
seconds, instead opting to look for rocks outside the tent, while the
boys listened intently to the Big 12 Coach of the Year.
New Year's Eve night was spent in downtown Tempe with about
150,000 of our closest friends.  Anhdai was nice enough to take care
of Zoe that evening, while the boys checked out the festivities. Here
we are at the Buffs-Ducks pep rally hoping to catch the band.
Much like Miss Ripped-Shirt (just noticed), this girl had too much to
drink--which explains how we ever struck up a conversation with
her in the first place.  I've digitally cropped out her boyfriend to
create the illusion that she was digging the Dink.
Finally it was gameday--time for some real pre-game prep. Here's
the gang posing on the Buffs Fiesta Bowl Parade float, shortly after
Zobo had stuffed 18 fries in her mouth in a valiant attempt to defy the
gag reflex. She lost, as did our shocked table mates.
The pre-game party at the Fiesta Bowl was quite solid. Live music,
team cheerleaders and bands, freshly grilled bratwurst, big screen
coverage of the other games--and an endless supply of free Tostitos
chips, cheese dips and salsa.  Junk food sponsors rock.
Again, Dinky proved to be quite the ladies man by snaring these young
ladies for a photo-op.  I'm pretty sure it was the brunette who asked
Dinky, "Are the Buffs #1 or are you just happy to see me?".  They
exchanged numbers (hers started 555) and we moved on.
I include this photo as a tribute to the Oregon Ducks (who played a
great game) and their fans (who we were thrilled to discover, seem to
hate Neuweasel even more than the Buffs fans do).  Oregon would not
have beaten Miami but they should have been in the Rose Bowl.
After Flipper and Zipper departed, we made our way over to the
stadium to get ready for the game. Note to all future Fiesta Bowl
attendees: the stadium hot dogs are just about the nastiest food
items on earth. I'd sooner eat my own butt the next time I visit.
Our tickets were just to the side of the goal posts--good for pre-game
warmup pics, bad for watching a goal-line stand at the other end of
the field.  Not that we actually had any to watch, as the Buffs got pretty
much smoked by QB Joey Harrington.
The 70's band, Boston, came out from under a rock to play perhaps
the weakest anthem since Rosanne butchered it during a Padres
baseball game a few years ago.  I'm not sure what they sang but at
least we had a close-up view of the musical carnage.
I love huge flags. I'd like to have one like this to roll out during Sloshball
or to display at home when we finally capture Osama-boy. Other than
that, there's nothing significant about this shot, other than I think the
Buffs were still in the game at this point.
Things started off with a rousing entrance by Ralphie and the players.
From there, the Buffs took their second possession of the game
down the field for a touchdown and a promising 7-0 lead.  Then the
roof (and our fun) caved in, while Harrington went wild.
Let's skip all that Buff carnage and go right to the uplifting final Buffs
drive of the game--featuring the return of Craig Ochs and Marcus
Houston, as well as the final career reception and touchdown of one of
the all-time great Buffs, NFL tight end Daniel Graham.
In moving on to the Rose Bowl portion of this little odyssey,
we begin our study of what happens when a young Hispanic
male (known in some quarters as "El Guapo") is temporarily
released from the restrained life of new fatherhood and
hardcore loan coordination.  Toss in a few blue drinks and
some scrambled eggs, and you end up with the god that
was Milo Chavis on January 3, 2002.

Seen here pouring the very last drop of margarita mix into
his cup, Milo had more fun that day than humans should be
allowed.  For starters, he managed to "cough" his breakfast
through his nose at around noon, call out a johnny full of
Husker man-beasts at around five, spill beer all over the
starting guard for the USC Trojans at around six and then
somehow manage to join the tuba section of the Hurricane
Marching Band at around nine.

Milo's day on the lam was one for the ages--an epic tale of
man vs egg, trojan vs husker, fool vs trojan and ultimately
boy vs band.  For those there to witness the saga unfold, it
will forever be a source of inspiration to us all.  Milo, we
salute you.
Upon arriving at the Rose Bowl around 10am (just in time for the 5pm
kick-off), I discovered that I had left most of the food. Chuck helped
ease the pain of the wayward Hackett-Dogs with his jalabeano-
accented Bloody Marys--one of which he spilled on Sean's car.
It wasn't long after that before Milo began doing his impersonation of a
sake-soaked sushi chef on a busy Saturday night. Here he is
attempting to amaze us with one of his "Vegas-Trained" card tricks.  
Little did he know, we'd all seen "52 Pickup" in grade school.
Then it happened.  While the rest of us had barely finished our
bloodies, Milo decided to perform one trick that none of us had ever
seen (or ever care to again).  Here's Chuck getting a good laugh,
while Milo attempts to remove egg residue from his beak.
Within a few seconds, Milo realized that his little accident would
become legend (even noting that it would probably "end up on the
website").  To ensure that, Sean agreed to perform a re-enactment for
you, the Internet viewing public.  Art imitating life.
After the egg incident, things got a bit strange. For instance, here's
Chuck wearing a tortilla with an "N" spelled out in hot sauce.  "Why?"
you ask. We don't know, and we don't care.  And if not for this
website, we wouldn't even remember that it happened.
The TV guys claimed that there were some Miami fans present but it
had to be 10:1 Husker fans.  Maybe it's just easier to find them in their
scarlet attire and corn-yellowed teeth.  These were some of the better
looking Nebraska fans and they actually spoke English.
See if you can spot the Miami fans. OK, this was the Nebraska side
but it's still impressive. Early on, they did a lot of spouting off about
this being "OUR house", which was soon replaced with "this is our
lame-ass team getting creamed 34-0 in OUR house".
Finally, it was time for the national anthem, which was handled by
some recording artist who had an amazing likeness to Barney the
Dinosaur.  She ripped through the song like a pro, while I attempted to
capture both her and Milo's protruding ears on film.
Then we got the always-exciting F-16 flyover from the military boys
patrolling the skies for bin Laden wannabees.  Although, it looks like
there was an attempt to shoot them down, those were actually just
fireworks, folks. None of us were hurt.
Here the teams are getting ready for the coin toss, while the pre-game
fireworks conclude. Nebraska won the toss, which oddly enough was
just about the only thing they won all night.  Down 34-0 at halftime, the
men of corn proved that never belonged in this game.
Despite the lack of gridiron drama, the boys still managed to ham it
up for the camera. Above are Sean and Milo who had apparently found
a blue-drink vendor somewhere in the crowd.  And to the left, one of
the rare pics of Dinky making some sort of gang sign.
As soon as the game started, it seemed like it was finished (which is
about what happened).  At any rate, by then we were deep within the
Miami section--just behind the band and cheerleaders.  Up on the big
screen, you can see the Canes already celebrating.
Toward the end of the game, we traversed our way over to the one
corner of the Rose Bowl that actually seemed to be inhabited by
Hurricane fans.  There, we also found the ESPN crew hiding behind a
wire net (they must have heard about Milo's daylong escapade).
On the left, I managed to snap off this shot of the cheerleaders, as
they hoisted me upon their shoulders in celebration.  To the right, Milo
stares at the Miami tuba player, already plotting how he's going to
distract him and try to steal his feathered hat.
The clock finally ticked down to zero, the Miami players
stormed the field and the Rose Bowl exploded in a sea of
red and white confetti. The stuff swirled around us for about
ten minutes, while we took in the amazing spectacle of a
hard-fought national title and a week of football fun.

As the paper storm waned, it suddenly dawned on us that
our little adventure was just about over. A week of football,
road trips and tailgating had finally run its course.  The next
day, Dinky would be gone and I would be back at work,
pushing corn dogs and jerky. And sadly, Milo's antics would
only be a distant memory.

But, I also knew that someday, with the help of Jackosports,
we'd all be back.  And next time I won't forget the damn
Hackett-Dogs.  Until then...
OK, I'm sorry.  I know it was kind of wrapped up real nicely back there
but I just have a couple more pics of Milo in action. First, we have Milo
looking like the Dali Lama with his giant red confetti forehead,
seemingly perplexed by this strange world around him.
Bonus Section
And then my favorite pic of the week, "Milo Joins The
Band".  OK, that's it.  I'm shutting up now.  Late.