Bring a portable AM/FM radio tuned into 850 KOA – The second greatest thing about the scheduling of the Rockies series, outside an excuse to get drunk even earlier than on Bronco Sunday, is the preemption of the Pill Popping Pundit, particularly this week, when he’ll be blowing harder than ever in the fallout of the “phony soldiers” comment.
Make sure you’re using your iPod headphones – That glazed over look you already wear at work, as you lean your head on your left arm, blankly staring at finance reports and wondering where, exactly, it all went wrong, is the perfect cover for listening to the game. Simply tuck your radio Glock 9-style into the front of your pants and run the headphones up the left sleeve of your shirt. That way, should one of the Bob’s swing by to discuss the latest TPS reports, you can still meet him with a firm handshake. If this sounds confusing, consult your teenager; they’ll know how it’s done.
Bring plenty of candy bars – In the event that, say, Todd Helton rips a first-pitch triple against the outfield wall, quickly jam a full candy bar into your mouth. Then you’ll be free to scream wildly while your co-workers surmise, based at least in part on the overweight frame you inherited as a result of remaining inert at an office cubicle for 40 hours a week, that you just really like chocolate bars. (Full disclosure: I picked this up from a Twix commercial)
Take chugs of coffee for every run scored – Not only will this act as an appropriate substitution to the sweet, sweet liquor your liver is so desperately craving, it will tease your body into a caffeine-induced rage that you’ll need to make up for the 3 hours lost listening to the game. If your office has an espresso machine, all the better.
There’s just one more step in fully covering your tracks. On your way out of the office, be sure to ask one of your co-workers, as ostentatiously as possible, “Hey, did you hear the score of the Rockies game? I didn’t have a chance to check because I was so busy working my butt off. Really, they won? Wow, that sure is something, what a magical season. OK, Bill, see you tomorrow.” In tennis parlance: Game, set, match.
Now go jog off those candy bars, fatty. You’re not getting any younger. -- Mark Schiff