So if you're like me, there's really nothing better than kickin' back at your local watering hole with a couple of fine beers and watching your hometown basketball, hockey, football, or women's tag-team mud-wrestling tandem cruise to another easy victory. And if you're like me, you're always on the lookout for someplace new and interesting to kick back and do so. And if you're really like me, you allow for your personal self-gratification habits to get in the way of your daily workload on a fairly regular basis, but we can tackle that issue at some later junction. For now, we're gonna concern ourselves with taking a critical look at some of those fine spots around town to take in the locally televised sporting action.

First up, I should lay down what will be my priorities in evaluating said establishments. Suffice it to say that I'd sooner chug a 78-ounce diarrhea smoothie, or inject things into Roger Clemens' anus, than spend a voluntary evening at some sillyass Beaverton “sports bar” with framed and autographed, game-worn jerseys hanging on the walls, and fat old guys smoking cigars hanging on the stools. I've always been more a fan of those little street corner-dive type places. Those places that my dad would bring me in to on Sunday afternoons while on the way home from his carpentry studio when I was just a naïve little 7 year old (looking back, I'm fairly certain we were meeting and paying off his bookie on these diversions, though at the time it always just felt like innocent father/son bonding time and hangin' out with the guys. That'd be glorious 1979, by the way- when having dogs and 7 year-old children at dirty and smoke-filled dive bars was no big deal. Neither was drinking & driving for that matter, and I seem to remember those first experiences when dad would lovingly prop me up on his lap to allow me control of the steering wheel happening on the drives home after hours-long stints at those places. In his defense, I was probably the more capable driver between the two of us at the time. Really, it's only disturbing if you think about it.)

These cozy dives always had a little black & white television with rabbit-eared antennas that sat either carefully balanced on top of the beer cooler, or sometimes directly on the bar itself, convenient for smacking it violently on the side to improve reception and/or the hometown team performance during our weekly televised game broadcasts (weekly broadcasts... My god- these were primitive times!) Such places are a dying breed anymore, and honestly – nostalgic though I am – I don't know that their demise is necessarily such a bad thing. I gotta admit that being able to see these new sparklingly clear hi-definition screens without having to wave through that thick haze of cigarette smoke is – for me, personally – a welcomed change. So too is the opportunity to order a delicious burger or homemade salad, as opposed to the bags of Snyder's chips & pretzels that so often made up the dinner menu at those places. Maybe what I seek these days is someplace that blends the two elements. A dedicated game-time atmosphere that doesn't get all in-your-face confrontational. Stylish, but without sacrificing the inherent, musky charm. General decency without pretension. Or maybe it's something else entirely. Who knows? But I'm here to look into it for ya.

And along the way, we can tackle some other issues as they arise. The up & down plight of our beloved hoops team. That deep and unsettling void that exists in my soul now that Zach Randolph has departed town, leaving a decidedly dull police blotter and several strip clubs now struggling financially, in his wake. Roger Clemens' anus. And so very much more!

Finally, let me just point out that I'll be primarily attempting to evaluate the overall “gameday” (for lack of a better term) experience that we're afforded in our travels. We'll try to avoid those more prototypical bar reviews, as I'm fairly certain there already exists a forum for those types of evaluations, and that Kyle/Jen tend to them quite regularly. We can talk about whether someplace allows for audible commentator volume during broadcasts and how – more often than not, given some of our local broadcasting teams – actually being forced to listen to the likes of those folks is more punishment than entertainment. Game night drink specials. The local patrons and the enthusiasm (welcomed or otherwise) that they bring to the table.

And what, you may ask, would be my motivation behind such a venture? Pure and simple, unadulterated altruism, my friends... the opportunity to inform and educate my dear readership is truly it's own reward (and the hopes that this opportunity to write & talk sports will grow to monstrous levels, eventually resulting in the Blazers' being forced to offer Kyle press passes to the games, which we can only assume will come with full bar & buffet access.)