Seems like everyone I've spoken to or heard about since the banquet has their own personal story of shame that they've been wallowing in, myself included, so hence the low profile since it all went off. It is beholden on me however to try and make some sense of it all, and to let you know that however off-your-face you got, and however ashamed you are feeling, there's always someone else feeling worse than you. So, shake it off soldier, and get back in the fight.
As far as banquets go, this was a top notch affair, with J-Wil pulling out all the stops to make us feel welcome, and not getting too mad when people started to get messy. Everyone turned out in all of their finery, and most people behaved in a civilized fashion for the majority of the night. As I alluded to earlier, it got a bit sloppy towards the end, but I won't name any names for fear of creating a firestorm of accusations.
Speeches were given, and I won't bore you with the details, but more thanks were given than a night at the Oscars, and if you missed your particular "ups" then you'll have ask someone who was paying attention. Then came the big awards for the night:
Most Improved Player: who else but Ryan Facey, who stuck with us and earned himself a starting spot in one of the most competitive positions on the club in just his second year. Ryan was later to be seen yelling his gratitude out of the window of the courtesy bus on the way to the Old Port. Well...at least it looked like he was yelling.
Most Valuable Player: Scotty Derrig scooped up this coveted prize, having played all over the backline this season without complaint, and making a positive impact from wherever it was. Scotty also seems to have developed a bit of a Teflon coating, as I'm having a hard time thinking up any dirt on him, other than his suspiciously well rehearsed acceptance speech.
Honorable Mention: Apparantly nipping at Scotty's heels in the MVP elections were a couple of old war horses who also got a mention, and who fall at the other end of the dirt spectrum. Jerry Alves (for the backs) and Jeff Keating (for the forwards) both were recognized for their consistently strong play all year, and for carrying more injuries between them than the entire DL for the American League.
Biggest Contribution: Your humble scribe was honored here, presumably not for the 11-13 record but for continuing to put blogging before work, family, personal hygiene or anything else. Of course, to celebrate I promptly took a week off to recapture my muse. If you find it, please let me know.
There then followed the Jimmy & Andy show, who unleashed a multimedia extravaganza on us, as they singled out members of the club for a little recognition/humiliation. The awards were too funny and too numerous for me to keep track of them all, so again, I won't list them all for fear of hurting someone's feelings. Jacko also threw in a couple of his own awards at the end, and then the evening dissolved into more drinking and general misbehavior.
For most of us Sunday was a write off, and sadly the most vivid memories of the night are those of our own transgressions. Oh alcohol, curse you and your inhibition-lowering goodness.
For those of you who clearly have a taste for this particular brand of train-wreck, can do it all over again at the Women's club banquet, held on December 18th, to which you are all cordially invited. Get youself off to Binga's tomorrow night (the 29th) should you wish to secure a ticket early, as there will be some kind of ticket-sale-drink-up going on. Alternatively, I'm sure you can pay at the door (of the Portland Eagles Club, where it's being held).
P.S. If any of you have any decent pictures from the banquet, e-mail me, since I couldn't manage a decent photo all night....unless of course you count those upskirt ones.
