D-Day, Minus 3
From the desk of S.W. Profit, gonzo journalist & Rabid Football Fan�
As soon as word of the trade broke loose, I unplugged my phone. I knew that the judge would be calling as soon as she heard the news and was not prepared to deal with her gloating. Despite a relapse in the dreaded, never-ending heat wave that chokes my fair city for months at a time, I was in a foul mood and found myself continuously mopping sweat from my eyes.
The high court ruling mere days before the coveted draft has removed a key player from high atop the draft board and this has me extremely nervous. The barring of the young punk from THE ohio state is surely a blessing as this saves some poor GM from wiping egg from his or her respected face and also keeps the NFL from demise that other pro sports are suffering from letting baby faced punk�s play for millions of dollars before they even reach legal drinking age. All the NFL needs is the likes of a Kobey or an �Answer� running amuck in there midst.
The biggest concern by far is the fallout of having the Williams kid from USC removed from the talent pool and the effect this could have on my beloved cardinals draft prospects. Specifically, I am very concerned as to what sort of effect on the psyche of their new head coach will be if the coveted wideout from Pitt is no longer there. Will Denny fly off the handle, frothing like a mad dog and smash the draft board into pieces while demanding the head of Rod Graves on a platter for not properly bribing the boyz from the bay in black & gray? Or will he coolly step up and throw the dice, bringing in Winslow, the �other� Williams or the Ben whose last name I can�t spell to bring his high-powered offensive dreams one step closer to reality? Maybe, just maybe my beloved cellar dwellers, will actually address the huge need at defense with a Taylor, Hall or Harris? I know, I know, but alas, even realists can dream on occasions and the thoughts of having a monster hitter like Taylor roaming the secondary or watching Hall return interception after interception with blazing speed and even catching glimpses of Harris bulldogging through offensive lines and splashing down upon opposing QB�s does mesh will with high grade hallucinogenic, does it not?
Bah! My brain can barely keep up with the postulating possibilities that manifest before my blood-shot eyes. The fear is growing stronger and I am still having problems obtaining a steady flow of money to gain supplies and flee my desert stronghold with. The phone that lay dormant for 48 hours was my only option and I finally plugged it in to quickly place a few calls to start the ball rolling again.
Silence from the headset was my initial greeting and I thought the worthless phone company had finally found the illegal connection and shut me down, but the heavy breathing from the other end told another tale�
�A DYNASTY IS BORN� shrieked the judge and her voice hinted at evil things. Before I could get a word in edge wise she cut me off and began ranting about the last piece to the greatest jig-saw puzzle ever and continued with boastful claims of thousand year reigns and unending honor and prestige for amerikas REAL team.
�Fuck Jerry Jones and his face-lift, the Patriots will never let Bellecheck die, they�ll clone him for generations to come! The plans are already in the works, I�ve SEEN the tanks they have setup deep under the stadium! We are unstoppable�� she finally trailed off and I heard the soft sound of sobbing from the other end and pounced on her like an offensive linemen on a Madden thanksgiving turkey�
�You Lecherous WHORE! You�ve been hitting the Absinthe to heavy again, haven�t you?�HAVEN�T YOU? Answer me you freakish bitch! Bah, I told you to lay off that stuff, it will rot your brain right out of your head! You are probably curled up under your desk, drooling and pissing yourself in the judges quarters again, ignoring the pleas from the bailiffs to come out and make your ruling!� The soft moans of realization filtered back to me and I went in for the killing blow.
�Dillon is a CANCER, A CANCER! If his pouty, whiney attitude problem doesn�t send him down the path to self-destruction as soon as he doesn�t get enough �touches� each game, then the abuse he inflicted upon his body as a disgruntled Bengal over the years will take it�s toll in the form of some horrific injury that will sideline him for eternity. Do you think he can handle the pressure placed on him by the East Coast hooligans? HELL NO, he�ll crack under the pressure and hang himself from a tie rack in the depths of a New England winter after his fumble in Foxboro, not only costs New England the game, but will derail the Patriots from back to back Super bowl Titles.�
I could sense her beginning to crack as the brutish honesty of my words started to set in. But I wasn�t done there, no mercy for your enemies or so the saying goes and with a maddening glee I delivered a 9mm bullet to the back of the head that would make any Chinese execution squad smile, �And speaking of Cancer, your precious Eagles are sliding toward oblivion faster than a NASCAR crash at the Daytona 500! The base defense the team will face every game this season: double coverage on T.O., and a linebacker shadowing McNabb. None of the other receivers can catch and no one knows if Westbrook has the durability to be the MAN at running back this season. To make matters all the more fun, the defense is in shambles and with the departure of the two best corners ever to don an eagle uniform, opposing teams will be able to run AND throw against them. Your birds of prey will be blasted into an unrecognizable pile of gore by season end and the Philly fans will tear the city apart in search of Andy Reid when they fail to make the playoffs!�
By this point, my judge was screaming incoherently and I decided my job was finally done. �Pull yourself together, you booze guzzling bimbo. You are a god damn judge of the god damn amerikan judicial system. The country is at war and YOUR country needs you. Get back to work and don�t bother trying to reach me, I�m going into hiding.� With that I slammed down the phone and exhaled deeply. As soon as she regained her senses, she would have a goon squad sent for me.
The decision to flee came suddenly and I filled the great white shark with the few possessions I had and my final act was to yank the accursed phone out of the wall before speeding towards the rippling city before me.
Yess sirree, out of the hills and into the city. I�m certain my editor will let me abuse his spare room for a few days. This will give me a chance to locate a suitable abode and seduce a few necessities out of the bustling city. Incognito was key, as things were turning weird. With three days to go until the draft I desperately needed rest. Shitfire, if this is how things are starting off; I am dreading how things will go when the season actually starts.
Come to think of it, maybe I should make my mad dash to suburbia a permanent one? There will be time for such things later, I can see my editors house just up ahead and I know he will be pleased to see me, after all it is only 2:30 AM on a Tuesday, I�m sure he won�t mind�
Vio con Dios
S.W. Profit.
**Editors note:
My esteemed colleague has taken up residence at my humble home and despite my best efforts to have him forcibly removed he now appears to be a permanent fixture. I am now forced to honor his requests for asylum and sanctuary and will be mailing out maps in code (per his request) so that he can be located in time for the Draft. He once again humbly requests to bring massive amounts of cash and booze. Any other updates I will also mail out, but none seem to be forthcoming since he locked himself in the bathroom some 8 hours ago and randomly slipped notes under the door are the only current means of communication.
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