In what was one of the more shocking developments of an upset filled week 4 in the NFL, McCleary’s, a well known Dorchester sports pub, ran out of Samuel Adams beer, both the regular lager and the seasonal Oktoberfest brew.
“I don’t know what happened. I ordered an extra keg because I knew the Pats playing the Raiders would inspire more drinking. But by two o’clock, we were cleaned out,” said owner Joseph Gels. Bill Sullivan, a South Boston native and avid New England sports fan, was aghast at the ordeal. “What ehlse am I suppose’ ta drink?! Fawkin’Miller? Fawkin’Buhd? Bill and da Pats woulda been wicked pissa if I dishawnerd our fawrfathas by puttin’ dat gahbidge in my bawdy!”
Grady Duncan, a frequent patron of McCleary’s, appeared to be the culprit for the stout drout. “He’s a fawkin’ chowdahead, nevah leaves any fah da rest a us,” complained Sullivan. Gels added, “He comes in here with a roll of hundreds and keeps yelling “hit me” like he’s at a blackjack table. He’s unstoppable.” Duncan, passed out on the pool table in a puddle of his own fluids, was not available for comment.
Boston based behavioral psychologist Neil Bernard, sitting in a corner booth cheering his hometown Seattle Seahawks on a small television, had a clinical view of the situation: “You never want to separate a Boston boy from his native drink. Studies show that f***ing terrible things happen during this depravation. Fights, looting, pillaging, conception…this won’t end well.”
Bernard’s ominous view of the situation came to fruition moments later when Ricky Lansing, a self professed Sam Adams “supah snawb,” could no longer deal with sobriety, doused his car in military grade gasoline and crashed it through the bar front. The ensuing fireball killed most of the patrons in the bar, including Sullivan and Bernard. There was not much left, save an ironically unscathed empty Sam Adams keg.
As rescue teams dug through the wreckage, Gels looked at the smoking, fiery hole where his bar used to be with a nonplussed look on his face. “You think this is the first bar I’ve had to build from scratch,” he scoffed as he dialed his good buddy Donnie at the local State Farm agency. “This is Boston. We set s*** on fire.”
After sifting through the debris at what was formerly McCleary’s, the firefighters found a keg of Sam Adams Old Fezziwig Ale in the alley behind the bar. “Well, that would have been useful about 45 minutes ago,” said Gels. He then offered to prop up this reporter in a kegstand as we stood in the ashes of his boyhood dream. It was still fresh and delicious (the drink, not the dream).