Guido, back in town after 12 days at home in the City of Bodily Harm with Phillies fans, figures we should watch at least one weekend game in the Marlins series at Liquor and Rubber Balls Sports Bar and Paralegal Services, so off we go. This is after attending the Thursday night game, where the Phillies easily wiped out the Fish 4-0.
So there we are Saturday, the day of the rainout. Instead of baseball, we end up talking about Knob Creek Bourbon. In case you haven’t heard, this brand has notified the world that there may be a shortage:
“For the next few months…….Knob Creek Bourbon is in a unique situation — [our] product is so popular that we cannot keep up with customer demand. As a result, our supply will be running low over the next few months, And, in some cases, we may experience temporary stock depletions.
“But, instead of compromising quality to meet demand, we have chosen to let the supply run low. In deference to Booker Noe and his vision for Knob Creek, we will age all our bourbon the full 9 years. The next batch will be ready in November of this year. …
” … Again, with all the success we’ve had, we’ve still come up empty. Thanks for helping make it happen.” — Examiner.com
“What a crock of shit,” says Don Tequila, behind the bar tonight.
What, Don, you don’t think they could make a production mistake?
“What I think,” says Don, “is that this is 100% pure marketing and that some bean counter somewhere figured out they could make more money selling short for a month or two if the advertising campaign was clever enough.”
Which it is because here we are talking about it.
“Bingo,” says Don, heading toward a pair of thirsty patrons. “Who the hell even HEARD about this brand before this? I go through maybe one bottle every 6 months. Cheap fucking gimmick.”
“Sure hope so,” says the patron at my left elbow, a beefy young lady who’s been eyeing up Guido’s tits since we arrived (LRB sports bar’s clientèle is mostly lesbian, and Guido never fails to attract attention among them. I keep encouraging this but so far, nothing noteworthy has come of it. Believe me, I’ll let you know when it does.)
Her name, we learn, is Greta. Bourbon on the rocks is her drink, Knob Creek her favorite, Grand Dad her second. I ask her if she’s ever had Wild Turkey, which is the fuel I favored years ago when I drank bourbon.
“Used to,” she says, wistfully. “A bit more expensive, and it adds up. Especially if you go for the 101 proof. Which I did. Until the night I drank too much and almost got charged with assault.”
Sounds like a story.
“Wish I could tell it,” says Greta. “But I don’t remember. I know it was outside, in the snow — this was in Akron — and that both me and the bitch I was beating spent time in an emergency room getting stitched up.” She shows us a long scar at her hairline: looks like a dozen stitches, a classic bottle-dent. I wonder if it was Wild Turkey 86 or 101. “Cops asked questions, but I faked unconsciousness until they left and ran out.”
You actually blame Wild Turkey for this?
She laughs. “Nah. Not really. I was pretty wild back them. Fact is, bourbon’s all about the same within price levels. I had better, I had worse. And I’ve had fights cold sober, too.” She sizes us up. “You two married?”
Yeah. Sorry.
“Story of my life. Well, here’s to you.” She raises her glass, drains the contents, and lumbers off in search of love. Or ten rounds.
“Not your type anyway,” observes Guido, correctly.
You’re my type.
“Good answer. That might get your knob creeked,” says Guido.
Well, it made sense at the time. And the game was postponed anyway.
Obalesque 
Actually, I’m surprised this doesn’t happen more often. How would YOU like to have to estimate what the demand for your product will be 9 years from now?
Knob Creek is definitely a second-shelf bourbon. I agree that this is just a marketing scam, but a damn good one, in factm it’s a better marketing ploy than KC is bourbon.
I’m willing to take the story on face value. Knob Creek is a price point below Turkey, Jim Beam and Grand Dad, and if people are cutting back a bit, maybe they moved down to Knob Creek, unexpectedly spiking its consumption.
bullcrap. knob creek is teh GOOD
Borubon was my drink for years. I drank Wild Turkey when I could get it, Jim Beam when I couldn’t. Then one day somebody handed me a glass of Jack Daniels. That was ten years ago or more, and I haven’t so much as sniffed a thimbleful of bourbon since.
Squirthole: Maybe it’s because I don’t hang out in lesbian sports bars, but I’m trying to remember if I ever even met a bourbon-drinking woman and honest to God, I don’t think I have.
Anyway, I hope you got your knob creeked after all. Whatever that means.
Marketing marketing Marketing. Besides, has anybody noticed whether or not there’s actualy a shortage of this product?
Maybe lesbian sports fans like Greta and Alesh are the only ones who drink this.
Where is this bar?
Years ago, back in Chicago, one of my colleagues at the paper gave me a bottle of Knob Creek as a Xmas gift. I’m not a bourbon drinker by any means, so after I shared a toast with him, I recapped it and put it my cabinet where it sat untouched for years.
One winter I got away for a week, returning right in front of an ice storm. I remembered my car needed anti-freeze in the windshield washer reservoir — I had put off maintenance like every other city dweller — and it was ‘way after hours to find some. So I used the Knob Creek.
Not only did it work, but every time I used it there was this great whiskey smell for a minute or two. (It might have been awkward if I’d ever been pulled over for any reason, but that never happened.) So now whenever I smell bourbon, it reminds me of winter in Chicago. Which I’d rather not remember.
Your Phillies are on a roll, Squatmeister, coming off the weekend and making the Marlins look sick. Let’s see how they manage tonight against my Cubbies. Betcha a shot-and-beer?
Hey Rosie: I bet your knobs creak.