Shootin' the Breeze

and random targets

Archive for the month “February, 2014”

Moving On

Sugar took my Bronco jersey and threw it in the wash.  Football season is over — until April O.T.A.s, i.e., “official team activities.”

Now baseball is appealing, especially since Arizona is warmer than Colorado and many Major League teams go there for spring training, playing in the Cactus League.  I told Sugar that I might mosey down there and play a little ball.

You are probably wondering how an N.F.L. free agent such as myself can find time to play baseball too.  Isn’t there something in my contract that prohibits it?  Well, remember, I am an unsigned free agent, so there is no restrictive contract provision.  How clever of me!

Also, I remind you that Bo Jackson played in both the N.F.L. and the Major League Baseball.  A lot of us extraordinary athletes have transferable skills.

I tried to explain that to Sugar.  She is too conservative about my ambitions as a professional athlete.  Get a load of this — she actually told me to stick with swimming in the Senior Olympics.  Been there.  Done that.  There is no money in it, whereas the league minimum for a regular season in the N.F.L. or M.L.B. is more than some people in the general public earn in a whole year.  Sugar needs to be more practical.  She needs to see the earning potential.  She thinks I play these games for the fun of it, even the glory of it, when actually, I am doing it for her.  I am thinking of her financial security. 

She doesn’t listen to me.  I suppose I should have Bo Jackson’s wife give Sugar a call and clue her in about the advantages of being married to a two-sport professional athlete. 

I was not exactly drafted by any of the Major League Baseball teams yet, so I am basically an unsigned free agent.  Again.  Keep your fingers crossed.  When I bring home that M.L.B. contract, Sugar will be glad I had the foresight and fortitude to provide for her in this manner.  She can thank me now or thank me later.     

The Morning After

Yesterday was, as every real American knows, the Super Bowl.

This morning I awoke in a cold, dark place.  I was still wearing my Bronco jersey.  It was dripping with sweat.  I was curled in a fetal position. 

“Al, don’t you have to be in court today?” Sugar disturbed my focus on my deep depression.

“Sugar, I am sure the courthouse will be closed and the flags at half mast on this sad day.  Remember, the Broncos lost the game.  I am in mourning.”

“Well, maybe the judge and your client and opposing counsel did not take it as hard as you have.”

“How dare you, woman!  Of course they feel as sad as I do.  I am in no condition to be in court.  I have to watch the game films.  I have to talk to Coach Fox about my role on next year’s team.  Peyton and Champ won’t retire and neither will I.  We are a team.”

“Well, they probably got out of bed and in case the judge did too, maybe you should swing by the courthouse on your way to Bronco headquarters at Dove Valley.  You know, to verify that the courthouse is closed.”

So I went to the courthouse wearing my official NFL-licensed Peyton Manning Bronco jersey — #18.  To my surprise, it was open.  I went to the courtroom where my case was to be heard.  The judge was in his robes.  Opposing counsel was wearing a suit and tie.

“Judge, I need a brief continuance so I can go home to get a tie, unless you will waive that silly rule about courtroom attire.”

“Normally, as you know, I enforce that rule, but for you, Mr. Manning, I will make an exception.”

“Thank you, your Honor.  I am on my way to Dove Valley, so if you don’t mind, I waive my right to present evidence and would like to proceed to my closing argument.”

“Actually, I am ready to rule.  You win!”

The other lawyer objected.  The judge over-ruled the objection. 

Sure, there might be an appeal.  Go ahead, make my day!  Who do they think they are dealing with? 

Super Bowl Suspense

Anyone who has read my recent posts is aware of the following:

1.  I have an official Broncos jersey;

2.  I am an unsigned free agent;

3.  I was recently injured.

For an update, I am pleased to report that I have removed myself from the injured reserve list and declared myself ready to play in tomorrow’s Super Bowl for the Broncos. 

I am waiting by the phone for that call from Coach Fox.  With all the distractions this week in New York, the poor man has not managed to find time to get me signed and to fly me out to the team hotel.  Apparently, he does not see the need for me to practice with the team.  I appreciate the confidence that he is showing in me, but I would be more comfortable having a little time to practice.  I’d prefer getting out there with some time to spare rather than this last minute stuff.  I suppose he wants to surprise the Seahawks.  “Hey, Pete Carroll, get a load of who we just added to our roster!”  Coach Fox wants to see the fear in Pete’s eyes right before game time.  I understand the psychological warfare.  I get it.  I will go along with the surprise strategy.      

I am wearing my jersey as I type these words.  I don’t even have to pack.  I am ready, Coach. 

I am all dressed up with somewhere important to go.  Like I said, all I need is that call. 

Sugar acts like the call won’t come.  She said we are going to a Super Bowl party tomorrow.  She should have told them that I will probably be playing in the game and can’t attend the party.  Won’t they feel silly when they are watching me on TV? 

If Sugar does not take this more seriously, I might not get her a ticket.  She might have to watch the game on TV. 

That will teach her an important lesson.  Next time I tell her that I will be playing in the Super Bowl, she better pay attention if she wants to sit in the stands with the wives of the other players.  For a trophy wife, Sugar has a lot to learn.  

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