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(Taken from First Down Issue 831, May 16 2002) Iain Carey (left) and Steve Bedwell are better known as the Scottish Cheddarheads. They can be spotted at the occasional Claymores' game KURT WARNER, reminiscing about his time in NFL Europe in his autobiography, refers to Amsterdam as 'Sin City'. We can only think Kurt was using SIN as an acronym to describe the Strange Inexplicable Nonsense that takes places there. In our many football travels to the Dutch Capital we've seen all kinds of weird and bizarre events. We've seen a game played in only one direction, after one end zone was deemed 'unsafe' (this year at times the Claymores' offense has stretched that notion to both end zones). We've seen a former offensive co- ordinator call his best plays of the sea- son here -numerous 'body shots' in a bar called Teasers. We've seen a back-up OB see his most action of the season here -alas it was in a local theatre that wasn't playing Shakespeare that night. We've seen another Claymore OB try to call our fourth time out of the game with only six minutes gone. We've seen numerous objects and items mysteriously disappear. In poor Casey Weldon's case it was the surprise appearance of an object in this city that created a story about the ex-Dragon and NFL OB that we'd rather not say for fear of legal action. Last weekend we made our way once again to the City of Sin to see what it had to offer this time, and then the strangest thing of all happened - we won! How could this have happened? For one, the noisy ArenA has been home to some of our poorest offensive displays before this season. In 1998 we amassed 126 total yards in a 26-3 loss, while last year, only 125 yards in a 14-7 loss. The omens were not good then for this year's model (Steve Spurrier has the Fun N Gun offense in Washington, we have the 'No Fun and I Need a Gun'), which until last Saturday was threatening records of passing inept- ness previously held by professional franchises such as the Montreal Machine and the Decatur Staleys. But Dondre Gilliam ended the TD drought with a great catch, and when Admirals' kicker Joe O'Donnell's 54- yard field goal fell short with 23 sec- onds left, and all Scott Dreisbach had to do according to his coach was "sniff the center's ass" -the loud and boisterous Tartan Army, had reason to celebrate. The losing streak that we carried around with us for the last nine road games (including WB 2000) must have got stolen when we staggered through the Red Light District on Friday night and Saturday morning. The Police have been informed, but Sting couldn't believe it either. SO if the Claymores winning was strange and inexplicable -where was the nonsense? Enter Bill Maas. For several seasons now, the Cheddarheads and Bill have had a running feud, based on Bill proving somewhat 'difficult' in our feeble attempts to have himself photographed with a lump of foam cheese on his head. His fearsome reputation gained as a Pro Bowl defensive lineman for the Chiefs in the 1980s continues to this day, so much so that Nick HaIling even offered to give an eulogy at our funeral if we attempted to 'cheddar' the Maas man again. Bill even laid down the gauntlet directly to the Cheddarheads on NFL Films a couple of years back saying he'd "Never wear a Cheesehead -even in Green Bay". He was back out in Europe last weekend at the ArenA, doing his excellent colour commentary for Fox. Figuring a half-time strike might be promising, we headed up to the ArenA:s empty top tier where the FOX guys were located. As we approached the booth however, a panic-stricken guy called Buzz (who worked as a spotter for the TV crew) came running to us -"Mr Bill Maas needs some food! Do you know where I can get some?" We suggested the Press Room, but Buzz explained there was none there. So we calmed Buzz and assured him we would get nourishment for the hungry FOX man. With only seven minutes before the second half kick-off the race was on and the play-by play was as follows: (7:00) Run back down the spiral stairs to the club level, along past the corporate boxes, trying to sniff out any possible leftovers. No luck there. (5:43) Sprint down the escalator back to the main level. Every concession stand has a long line. (4:32) Grab an ArenA official. Tell him of our plight. (4:17). Knowing of Bill's reputation, we are led furiously through more suites, then through the kitchens and into another suite containing post- game food for the Admirals. (2:33) Acquired two plates of hot steaming brown slop n' rice complete with silverware. Ready for mad dash back. (0:00) Despite galloping back through the kitchens, through the suites, up the escalator, past the boxes and carefully navigating the spiral stairs, hearts sink at the sound of the second half kick-off. Undeterred, we continue up and sit patiently behind the booth for 'Mr Orange Sleeves' to come onto the field of play (signalling TV time out). It also gave us time to catch our breath, as we were, to put it mildly, knackered. Then the Admirals mounted a 14-play drive, using up half the third quarter. We were worried the slop would be cold -but as we laid our sacrificial offering at the back of the booth, some large lineman's hands reached out and snapped it up. "Tastes
good! But what the hell is it?" While we were unable to offer Bill
a satisfactory answer, we did manage to apply a Cheddarhead onto the
big man's head and escape with our lives in tact. |
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