Hey there, Big Guy,
I like your hat. Some might say wearing a white fedora after Labor Day is a faux pas, but kudos for holding onto the things you love. You've shown initiative, and I respect that.
You may be wondering why you are receiving a letter from someone you've never met, and who has only seen the back of your fedora. Well, its because I feel like I need to explain some curious situations that arose this past weekend.
First, let me say "thanks" for your patronage at the most recent Houston Dynamo game at BBVA Compass Stadium. I hope you enjoyed the energy, fanfare, and quality soccer played on both sides of the pitch. It is great to see that The Cage is a place where both groups of supporters can enjoy an afternoon of sport.
On that note, let me call into question you decision to sit in our section. Not that it was (remarkably) hostile, its just that section 221 looked so blue, comfy, and welcoming. Your light blue madras shirt would've fit in so well, as opposed to the orange confines of 210. But, again, kudos to you. You've shown bravery in sitting in an anti-SKC section, as well as integrity in staying with your assigned seat.
I write to you in the hopes that you will forgive the unfortunate circumstances that occurred on Sunday, November 4th, of this year. What's that you say? You don't remember anything out of the ordinary?
Oh, nevermind then. Talk to you lat - No! - I can't let myself off that easy. Let me remind you.
You may have noticed that after Moffat's sublime finish, your shoes became suddenly soaked with beer. Perhaps, in those moments of concern for the 1-0 deficit that your team was suffering, you thought little of it. The stadium was rocking, and maybe the decibels ripping through the stadium had spilled a beer at your feet.
Or, you know, the drunk idiot behind you may have kicked it over, and in a fit of high fives, hugs, and primal yells, failed to notice it until half a liter of lime-infused Dos Equis had finished cascading around your seating area.
And in this confusion, you might have felt breath, spittle, or a rolled up poster scrape your fedora at some point. In fact, your ears might still be ringing, as the sincere question of "why are you sitting down?" were lobbed your way after both goals and during the introductions. Its not that the person (not me) was being too aggressive, or trying to intimidate you. On the contrary. I...err....he just wanted you to take full advantage of such a fun afternoon. Consider it encouragement, and not bullying. He just wanted you to stand up and take in the great sight of orange streamers covering the field after both goals.
Come to think of it, you didn't even bother to remove the orange poster from your seat. You just...sat on top of it. That couldn't have been very comfortable. Were you making a statement, saying you wont be shackled by the rules of an opposing franchise? Was that a subtle assertion of your sporky superiority? Maybe you were under the impression that it was a low-cost ergonomic addition to the seat? Or were you just too mesmerized by the overwhelming surroundings in El Banco to comprehend what you should be doing with your hands right then?
Either way, I hope you will forgive my transgressions. Maybe you've spilled a beer before, or yelled at a perfect stranger, unbeknownst to them. These things happen.
Those delightful Dos Equis blinded me to how much bigger you were than me. That could have been a problem if you ever realized who soaked your shoes in beer. Kudos to you for not retaliating... or reacting at all. Or...noticing...
You know what? Forget everything I said. Let me start over.
Hey there, Big Guy,
I like your hat.
Ciudad de Clutch