Burkey, who is normally ultra resourceful, told Conrad that he couldn’t find the jersey anywhere, at any price—whether Bills/Raiders/Bears. Said he called all his contacts, even the ethically challenged ones, and none of them would agree to put together a jersey for a QB with career stats of 3TDS/12INTs and a 34.0 passer rating. 

Pulling on his first Guinness of the day next door at the Bistro after exiting Burkey’s, Conrad was telling bar staff in an elevated, unrepentant voice to mark his words: “Nathan Peterman will be a viable starter in the NFL.” The kid stocking the cooler, who was barely of age responded, “Please stop yelling at me sir. The bartender will be back in a moment or maybe you could get some friends to yell at about this Nathan Peterman guy.”

After silently finishing his beer Conrad went to Dick’s Sporting Goods at the Galleria Mall and inquired about the Peterman jersey and again came up empty. He told the teenage girl who was helping him out he had the same problem back in the 70’s trying to get a Gary Maragi jersey. “Sure he was 0-7 with 7TD’s and 16INTS after relieving Fergy in ‘76, but it would have been a different story if they brought him back in ‘77.” With big eyes the girl pressed the silent “HELP” button under the counter and a manager quickly appeared and asked Conrad if he needed help finding something else. Conrad just grumbled and headed toward the golf equipment.  

After looking at some drivers Conrad went over to the simulated putting area and picked out a thirty-three inch Odyssey “White Hot” putter. As he was rolling them in from fifteen feet a woman asked him if that was a good putter. Said she was looking for one for her husband. He told her for the price it was the best one on the market. 

Then he went on explaining, as he continued to roll them in, about his acumen from forty feet out in the Caz Men’s League. “Oh yeah,” he said, “I’ve made so many between twenty and forty feet the guys started to call them Conrads. They say: ‘You got a Conrad there. Knock it in.’” The woman, not really sure what to make of him, slowly backed away without a putter just as he started to aimlessly ramble about all his hole-in-ones at Caz number three.  

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 Coming up empty on the Peterman jersey, Conrad stopped at the Blackthorn on his way home. Pulling on another Guinness while watching some news about Aaron Judge’s new contract with the Yankees, Conrad asked Sully the bartender if he knew who came up with the split-finger-fastball? Sully hung his head, “You Jack. You came up with the split-finger-fastball at South Park High School in the early 80’s but Bruce Sutter gets all the credit. You’ve told me this story fifty times.” 

Taken aback, there was an awkward silence between Conrad and Sully as the news transitioned to Josh Allen’s leaping exploits. After a moment, and watching another highlight of the Bills QB, Conrad tells Sully, “You know, besides the split-finger I was also the inspiration for the Josh Allen leaps. Back in ‘71 as a Stingray Devil rather than running someone over I would go air-born and pick up those last few tough yards playing TYRO football. I’m sure Josh heard about me and maybe saw my reel and then incorporated it into his game. But it’s okay. I don’t need any credit, as long as he brings a Super Bowl to Buffalo.” 

Frustrated about the jersey Conrad picked up a steak sub from Mr. Submarine on South Park and a sixer of Guinness. Once home, he cracked a beer and unwrapped the sub while he looked at some cute cat pics on the internet and listened with glee to the Chieftains Christmas album featuring Jackson Browne.

Despite the day’s disappointment, he was far from beaten. In fact, as he grew sleepy, he was overcome with a blissful sense of calm and thought to himself: ‘I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and be Jack Conrad all over again.’  

The post Christmas Shopping With Jack Conrad appeared first on buffalomud.com.

Buffalo, NY—In an over the top voice everybody’s favorite South Buffalonian, Jack Conrad held court among a socially distanced, pandemic appropriate crowd at the Blackthorn on Seneca Street this past weekend. In his unique Conradian way, which produced severe eye rolls and head shakes from a table of nearby ladies, he rambled on about his neighbor being a “complete asshole” for his shoddy snow-removal technique. Like Ralph Kramden speaking to his brothers at the Racoon Lodge, Conrad squawked,  “Everybody knows you don’t push the snow up against the house. You throw it in your yard or move it forward until you can throw it in your yard. The guy packs it right up against the foundation. He’s a complete asshole.”

An unidentified lady at the table said, “I used to think Jack was kind of funny. Now, he reminds me of a “Karen”—a “Karen” with a Guinness problem.”

Big laughs followed and another one of the ladies asked, “Why do we need these guys at all?”

As the scene switched to the Brick Oven Bistro on Abbott Road later that night Conrad stood on the foot rail of the bar and adjusted his man parts as if he was at home on his couch watching Judge Judy and retold his hole-in-one story for the millionth time—seventh hole at Caz, a mis-hit a six iron catches the lip of the trap causing his ball to pop up in the air and into the hole as if it was a basketball three pointer. Of course, after telling the story again, Conrad’s laughter was way too loud and went on way too long.

Within earshot was a group of ladies at a table with whom Conrad had history.
One said, “I can’t believe I spent ninth-grade making out with Jack. Almost as bad as making out with him was listening to his shitty Jackson Browne records. What was I thinking?” 

“I’m so glad you did,” another said. “I had such a crush on him, but you were always in the way.”

“A third woman jumped in, as Conrad again stood on the foot rail, this time unbunching the underwear that was gathering in his ass, saying, “We’re all making fun of Jack, but none of these other shlubs are any better.”

She then went on to explain how she was seeing a guy at the end of last summer and they went golfing. “He was going to show me how to play,” she said making little air quotes with her fingers. “But then he missed a two-foot putt and lost his shit. So, while he was throwing his clubs in a tree I was having a cool drink and enjoying a beautiful warm day. After he dropped me off, I went inside, poured myself a big glass of wine, lit some candles, got out The Thumper and went to town on myself. Afterwards, I watched a dumb movie on the Hallmark Channel and not one person was there to complain about it.”

“Yeah, the hell with these guys, who needs them?” thundered another one of the ladies at the table. “Did you ever see their underwear? None of them know how to wipe their asses. And past forty—forget about a solider standing at attention without a little blue pill.”

One of the women in a funny voice crowed, “They tell us we’re fragile and emotional, but did you see their big crocodile tears when the Bills lost in the playoffs? They were like six-year old’s finding out Santa wasn’t real. Screw these guys.”

Just then, the woman that used to makeout with Conrad in ninth-grade stood up and yelled, “Hey Jack, shut the hell up or tell a different goddamn story.” 

Conrad responded by buying the ladies a round of beers and with a big smile told the bartender, “She totally digs me. We made out all through ninth grade—loves Jackson Browne.”

March is International Women’s History Month, which not only celebrates female asperation and achievement, but also raises the questions about the necessity of men, especially among the women who know Jack Conrad.    

By P.A. Kane

The post Jack Conrad Prompts Area Women To Question The Necessity Of Men appeared first on buffalomud.com.