Given the recent attention on transparency, a fad in these times of political horserace, I must admit that upon receiving the message from Coop asking me to join him, I had viewed Deadspin exactly once. The only memory I came away with was a furious, and likely duh duh duhhed, Chris Berman; nothing about one Will Leitch.
I left as a fan of an honest and viciously funny writer, who loves to stick it to ESPN, and with one more lifeline keeping me afloat during the workday. Believe it or not, Deadspin even slips in some soccer, although I imagine many of its readers don't know what Charlton means or who Eduardo da Silva is - they know him as the the soccer guy with a good Joe Theisman impression.
On the way home to my RSS reader we stopped for some social gathering with the blogger crowd...
wallpaper ...and two staggering drunk English girls, who luckily were blind to the company they happened upon. Though I didn't get a word in with Leitch, who was being ruthlessly stalked by a combover and a wireless signal, we did meet Mac G and are grateful for his retelling of a fumble in the face of Scooter Libby and a familiar encounter at Nellies on U St.
We'll close with some lessons learned for the night:
1. Know the name of the guy who you're listening to read. When someone politely asks you who you're listening to with 98 other dudes and you draw a blank, some questions may linger.
2. The wristband does not necessarily get you a discounted Budweiser. Even if you ask for it. And the wristband says Budweiser.
3. The Potomac River smells like a week old Port O Potty in August... or Dan's Cafe.