Halftime Sports Bar & Grill

A few years ago in Ann Arbor, Michigan, while waiting for a cab and inspired by a long night’s worth of college town beer specials, I (Ashley here) very literally buttonholed a floppy-haired freshman. 

"Enjoy this," I told him. "Enjoy these careless young years. Before you know it, you’ll be like me: a helpless little dingy, adrift on a violent sea of part-time jobs and hiring managers who don't give a flip about your hard-earned humanities degree. It's all down hill from here, little wolverine." He was most certainly freaked out (Paul was equally horrified), but I felt like I had done him a favor. 

Until the night I visited Kokomo’s only “college bar.” And then I wished I could go back and tell that kid: never mind, it gets way better. 

I am rarely so glad to be eight months shy of 30.

One of these things is not like the other. 

Halftime Sports Bar & Grill is located on the city's south side, at the poorly-designed intersection where Washington turns into LaFountain Street. Halftime is housed in the same building as—and also somehow affiliated with—The Social Experience (pro tip: the kids call it The Social), Kokomo's self-proclaimed "Premiere Night Club.” That would be some savvy entrepreneur's way of spinning the fact that it's Kokomo’s only night club. A real Tom Haverford, that one. 

But back to the bar at hand. Halftime is exactly what you want in a college hangout: an utterly unnecessary number of flat screen TVs, an offensively loud internet jukebox, irresponsibly cheap liquor, and a sweet, capable bartender in a half shirt. The second floor boasts pool tables, arcade games, darts, and what folks in the South call “beanbags,” which for the rest of us is "cornhole."

We shot a few rounds of pool before ordering a pizza, enjoying classics like “Make ‘em say Uhh” and “Move, Bitch (Get out the Way),” at such a dizzying volume it was hard not to feel like the oldest people on the planet. Which must have been why we ordered our dinner at 5:30pm.

Halftime offers a decent variety of flatbread pizzas as well as a traditional version that you can custom-make to your liking. We ordered a traditional pie and asked for a couple of vegetables on top, of course.

To be completely honest, we were expecting a Totino’s party pizza. Something puny and pre-made. Oh, we of little faith.

This sort of thing would never be permitted in the EU. 

This pizza is enormous, and not just in terms of area, but in depth, too. The crust is something to behold. It’s almost certainly made in-house, with a satisfying crunch on the bottom and substantial fluff in the middle. It’s not the most flavorful crust in the world—and it's more than a little reminiscent of the Bisquick crust your mom used to make on nights she was phoning one in—but, man, A+ for surprising effort.

In less of a surprise, the cheese on this pizza is out of bounds (get it? a sports pun? because it's a sports bar). It just wouldn't be a pizza in Kokomo if it wasn't topped with a gluttonous amount of mozzarella. Not that we’re complaining: the cheese is well-seasoned with a shake of herbs and still lets the sauce do a little talking. Signature pies include such titles as the "Steakhouse Pizza" (complete with A-1) and the now-ubiquitous "Chicken-bacon ranch."

We didn't get to delve into this territory, but even our little one-topping mushroom approached behemoth proportions. 

And it was incredibly cheap. $14, and that'll feed us for 4 days when it’s all said and done. On Thursdays, you can get a large one-topping pizza like ours and a pitcher of domestic beer for $12. Twelve dollars! (If only Ann Arbor Boy could see me now.)

Halftime is a fun place. Even if you’re old and have, you know, decent taste in music. After a few hours, of course, we were ready to head home and tear it up like we do these days. Listening to the same 6 albums and spending quality time with the kids.

"Really? Abbey Road again?"