Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Fade In
Harbaugh brothers Jim and John brought drama to the playoffs. Let’s return the favor...
EXT. A TELEPHONE BOOTH. BALTIMORE ALLEY. RAINY. LATE NIGHT.
Baltimore head coach John Harbaugh is drunk, drool and spittle ooze from his mouth, flows down his chin and cheeks, then gathers itself and drips onto a grimy telephone handset.
JOHN
Ugh, ugh, guh, gug, gah, gug.
ANGLE INT. KITCHEN IN UPSCALE PALO ALTO HOME. NIGHT. WE SEE A SOBER JIM HARBAUGH, SAN FRANCISCO HEAD COACH, GRIP HIS iPHONE.
JIM
What are you doing in a phone booth?
JOHN
I don’t deserve a cell phone.
JIM (sighs)
Your team played ugly. You had so many chances to win and blew every one.
JOHN (takes a double swallow from a bottle of scotch)
Fucking Flacco scumbag. And that punk, Lee Evans, drops a pass in the end zone. FUCKING END ZONE! Ball hits him in the gut, 27 seconds left in the game, and he drops the BALL! Make the catch and we’re in the Super Bowl. But, OH NO, instead of being four points ahead, fuckhead drops the ball, or has it stripped, same thing. Fucking worthless mutant.
JIM
You think that’s bad? Alex Smith went all Alex Smith on me. The sniveling son of a bitch reverted to his old self in the fourth quarter. Couldn’t take the pressure. Nothing but shit passes. Couldn’t throw the ball to a receiver who wasn’t double-covered.
JOHN (ignores his brother, takes another slosh of scotch)
Then, we get the ball back. Incredible. Miracle. Fifteen seconds left in the game, little boy Cundiff has a 32-yard chip shot, a gimme of a field goal to tie and go into overtime. And the puke MISSES! Choke-ass son of a bitch MISSES THE GIMME!
INT. MEQUON, WISCONSIN, DEN. (Dad, Jack Harbaugh, comes on the line)
DAD
John, son, that was an ugly, ugly game.
JOHN (gulps down another slug of scotch)
Not as ugly as the time you ran over my tennis racket in the driveway. Remember how you LAUGHED?
MOM (Jackie pulls the phone from Dad)
Johnny, dear, your father’s right, that was ugly.
JOHN (guzzles the rest of the scotch)
YES, I KNOW, MOTHER! Remember how ugly it was when you told the police I wasn’t your child? By the way, do you have ANY IDEA how much I hate Baltimore and this funky-ass franchise? Art Modell and the fucking storybook Baltimore Colts. La-de-da. It never ends. Besides, what about Jim? His team sucked, too.
INT. BLOOMINGTON, INDIANA, LIVING ROOM (sister Joani is on the line)
JOANI
John boy, lousy game. Ugly. Are you drinking again?
JOHN (smashes the telephone booth door with his head)
I WASN’T DRUNK DURING THE GAME! What about Jim? Little brother always gets off. Always takes the easy way home. His big-deal punt returner, Kyle Williams, fumbles TWO punt returns, the last one in overtime, which puts the ball on the 24-yard line and LOSES THE GAME! And what about precious-teacher’s-pet quarterback Alex Smith? He couldn’t make a third down all day. He went 1-13 on THIRD DOWNS! Fourth quarter, money time, everything on the line, and he was PATHETIC! He CHOKED! Why aren’t you all on Jim’s ass? Why isn’t he Mr. Ugly Game?
MOM, DAD, SIS, BROTHER (in unison)
IT’S MORE FUN WHEN YOU LOSE!!!
Here's something you might be interested in.
Fade In
Fade In
Harbaugh brothers Jim and John brought drama to the playoffs. Let’s return the favor...
EXT. A TELEPHONE BOOTH. BALTIMORE ALLEY. RAINY. LATE NIGHT.
Baltimore head coach John Harbaugh is drunk, drool and spittle ooze from his mouth, flows down his chin and cheeks, then gathers itself and drips onto a grimy telephone handset.
JOHN
Ugh, ugh, guh, gug, gah, gug.
ANGLE INT. KITCHEN IN UPSCALE PALO ALTO HOME. NIGHT. WE SEE A SOBER JIM HARBAUGH, SAN FRANCISCO HEAD COACH, GRIP HIS iPHONE.
JIM
What are you doing in a phone booth?
JOHN
I don’t deserve a cell phone.
JIM (sighs)
Your team played ugly. You had so many chances to win and blew every one.
JOHN (takes a double swallow from a bottle of scotch)
Fucking Flacco scumbag. And that punk, Lee Evans, drops a pass in the end zone. FUCKING END ZONE! Ball hits him in the gut, 27 seconds left in the game, and he drops the BALL! Make the catch and we’re in the Super Bowl. But, OH NO, instead of being four points ahead, fuckhead drops the ball, or has it stripped, same thing. Fucking worthless mutant.
JIM
You think that’s bad? Alex Smith went all Alex Smith on me. The sniveling son of a bitch reverted to his old self in the fourth quarter. Couldn’t take the pressure. Nothing but shit passes. Couldn’t throw the ball to a receiver who wasn’t double-covered.
JOHN (ignores his brother, takes another slosh of scotch)
Then, we get the ball back. Incredible. Miracle. Fifteen seconds left in the game, little boy Cundiff has a 32-yard chip shot, a gimme of a field goal to tie and go into overtime. And the puke MISSES! Choke-ass son of a bitch MISSES THE GIMME!
INT. MEQUON, WISCONSIN, DEN. (Dad, Jack Harbaugh, comes on the line)
DAD
John, son, that was an ugly, ugly game.
JOHN (gulps down another slug of scotch)
Not as ugly as the time you ran over my tennis racket in the driveway. Remember how you LAUGHED?
MOM (Jackie pulls the phone from Dad)
Johnny, dear, your father’s right, that was ugly.
JOHN (guzzles the rest of the scotch)
YES, I KNOW, MOTHER! Remember how ugly it was when you told the police I wasn’t your child? By the way, do you have ANY IDEA how much I hate Baltimore and this funky-ass franchise? Art Modell and the fucking storybook Baltimore Colts. La-de-da. It never ends. Besides, what about Jim? His team sucked, too.
INT. BLOOMINGTON, INDIANA, LIVING ROOM (sister Joani is on the line)
JOANI
John boy, lousy game. Ugly. Are you drinking again?
JOHN (smashes the telephone booth door with his head)
I WASN’T DRUNK DURING THE GAME! What about Jim? Little brother always gets off. Always takes the easy way home. His big-deal punt returner, Kyle Williams, fumbles TWO punt returns, the last one in overtime, which puts the ball on the 24-yard line and LOSES THE GAME! And what about precious-teacher’s-pet quarterback Alex Smith? He couldn’t make a third down all day. He went 1-13 on THIRD DOWNS! Fourth quarter, money time, everything on the line, and he was PATHETIC! He CHOKED! Why aren’t you all on Jim’s ass? Why isn’t he Mr. Ugly Game?
MOM, DAD, SIS, BROTHER (in unison)
IT’S MORE FUN WHEN YOU LOSE!!!
Comments