In this ever changing world, there have always been certain things which you could depend on. The Red Sox will never win the World Series. The US always wins the gold medal in Olympic basketball. And Idiot Joey will never, ever, ever get married.

Well, the Curse of the Bambino has been broken and Argentina won the gold in Athens. And after he met Daniela, Joey went down like Eddie Gaven after slight contact. It seems like the only thing which we truly can depend on is that the Metros will never have a new stadium.

The blessed event took place on November 13th, only a couple of weeks after the end of the Metros season. Given the fact that the MLS Cup was the next afternoon, there was a whiff of melonchaly in the air as we realized that we would not be flying out in the morning to Los Angeles for the game.

After being subbed out at halftime of Joey's bachelor party, I pledged to remain lucid enough to remember what went on that night. I was somewhat successful, and I resolved not to fade like the Metros in August.

We showed up to an undisclosed location in Essex County ready for a great tailgate. Paul brought the cones and I was ready for a good game of three on three in the parking lot. However, the valet parkers informed us that, after the nasty tackles at the Rubenstein Bar Mitzvah, the no soccer rule was being strictly enforced. My dissapointment only grew when Keith decided that, despite the high turnout of Idiots, wedding gifts would not come from the tailgate fund. Luckily, the valet had change for a $10 bill and we were on our way.

While we never thought that Joey would have cold feet, I was concerned that he would mistake the wedding for a Metros game and would come up with a mysterious international trip at the last second. Upon arrival, it was clear that Idiots Brian and Keith got a good headstart on the rest of us, and I was worried that, if the rabbi made a bad speech (or missed an offsides call), Brian would throw a beer on the chuppah. The ceremony proceeded without incident (except for Ronen's "you'll never be a Metro" taunt at the maid of honor), and we headed downstairs to the reception.

I spent most of the cocktail hour drinking heavily with my fellow Idiots and eating. In fact, after my display at sushi station, it became apparent why at my nickname in Columbia was the "King of Rolls". [Note: I do realize that the last pun was brutal]. At the vodka bar, I displayed the finishing skills which the Metros sorely lacked in the recently completed season. I was a little concerned about our transition to the dinner, but Keith did a nice job handing out the tickets and we all had one last drink before dumping our empties in the blue trash bins.

The rest of the night was a blur of hummus, red wine and more red wine. Idiot and Mrs. Joey made a lovely couple, and Joey sufficiently embarrassed himself on the dance floor. After the team photo, the Idiots toasted Joey's first cap and promised that next November, we would be celebrating at the Frisco Soccer & Entertainment Center in Dallas.