Brett Weir: Reporter at Large

I got the call because they knew I was the man for the job.

If one man in this world can be trusted, it can be myself, the honorable, distinguished, handsome Brett Weir III. There is little doubt in anyone’s mind that under pressure I will come through standing atop the hill victorious.

That’s why when I came home from classes on Friday afternoon and checked my messages I knew my legendary status was still at Alert Level Orange.

“Hey Brett this is Scott from the Cynic,” groaned the message. “The guy who was supposed to cover the soccer game tomorrow got the runs from the Mongolian Grill last night and can’t cover the game. You were the last person we called, can you do it?”

I raised my arms over my head and silently basked in my own glory. I immediately called Scott back and confirmed that I would cover the men’s soccer game for the Cynic.

I couldn’t believe that I was going to cover the men’s soccer game: Last year’s regular season champs! Roy Patten, David Sullivan, Matt Chavez! All these guys are incredible and I will make them shine like the beacons of football demi-gods that they are.

I would not let the rain on Saturday deter my task so I woke up at seven am and did some exercises to get my hands ready. I was all ready to get out the door at 11 to watch the warm-ups but I saw that the Disney Channel was having a Full House marathon. So I sat down and laughed along with Joey, Danny, DJ and Michele for a little while.

I walked to the game with my steno pad and camera in hand because all good reporters are multi-faceted. Half way there I dropped the pad in a puddle while playing Push Push on my cell phone making the pad useless. Luckily I have a really good memory and would take notes in my head.

I got to the game with eight minutes left in the first half and saw UVM has a 2-0 lead. Another yawner. I flashed my student ID around a bit at the snack table to see if I could get some free food but no one was buying it. One old guy tried to distract me by saying there was no such thing as “press privleges for the Vermont Cynic” while his partner radioed for security.

I took a picture of some fans standing with umbrellas that I thought were funny. Then I wandered around underneath the stand looking for money and french fries that had been dropped.

I began to think about how hungry I was and I got a sudden craving for a Turdunkin. This is a brilliant creation by the genius of John Madden who is the only person who could come up with something so disgustingly delicious as a turkey, duck and chicken all wrapped into one and then deep fried. Knowing that not a lot of local shops carried the Turdunkin I decided to settle for something as close to a Turdunkin as possible: I went to get a falafel.

With four and a half minutes left in the half I had watched the game long enough to get a good idea of what the second half would have been like. There would be some kicking of the ball down the field, some slipping, some yelling at the refs.

Man, that falafel was good. I wish it was a Turdunkin but falafels are pretty good too. Not only does that John Madden make a nasty football game but his culinary skills could rival Emril’s.

When I got home I didn’t bother to check the score of the soccer game because my journalistic instincts told me that based on the minute and a half of soccer that I had watched, the score wouldn’t deviate too much, if at all.

I quickly wrote a quick synopsis of the game highlighting a punt by the opposing goalie and a throw-in or two then emailed the Sports Illustrated-worthy piece to the Cynic. I thought about the big pat on the back every member of the Cynic staff would give me and shower me with praise after the story ran.

Satisfied, I turned my attention back to the Full House marathon. Oh that Joey…