Rain Man
03-07-2008, 09:49 PM
You grew up living the American Dream. You were an all-state quarterback in high school, even though the state was Rhode Island and you had a Michael Vick quarterbacking style where your biggest passing day was 212 yards. You scored with every cheerleader except the Pentecostal one who had to wear pants to the games, and you were the Homecoming King after a narrow win over some really nice, smart kid with moderate cerebral palsy who scored big on the sympathy vote.
You got scholarship offers from the University of Rhode Island, Kutztown State, Bowdoin, Bryn Mawr (for field hockey), Brigham Young, Kansas State, and the University of Alaska-Fairbanks. The campus visits are awesome, and non of your host girls were Pentecostal, if you know what I mean.
After discussing it with your parents, your friends, Drew Rosenhaus (who just knocked on your door one day after getting lost, and then befriended you), and some smart kid with moderate cerebral palsy that you threatened to beat up if he didn't advise you, you make the call: University of Alaska-Fairbanks, where the cold weather suits a running quarterback and the sports communications program gives out C's for attendance as long as they see your parka on a chair.
You pack your bags and move to Fairbanks, and show up at your first practice. Unfortunately, the starting quarterback is junior Altaq Nuniaq, also known as the "Alley Oopin' Aleutian", the pride of Siska, a former All-Yukon quarterback who is a crowd favorite and is dating the coach's middle daughter, the one with long red hair, a Meg Ryan smile, and a figure that can really fill out four layers of sweaters. However, a guy like you can't be kept off the field, so they move you to fullback.
You start as a true freshman, and you terrorize the Great North League over the next four years. You pick up 25 pounds of muscle running the glaciers and lifting seals, and you set an Ice League record with 22 touchdowns your senior year. Along the way, you maintain a solid 2.0 GPA in sports communications, even though you have to buy a new coat every semester, and you learn over 200 words for snow. You score with every one of the cheerleaders except the skinny brunette who had a reputation for being slutty, because you don't approve of that.
You don't get invited to the Combine, but that's okay because no fullbacks did. Mel Kiper, Jr., proclaims you to be a possible late second-day pick, and criticizes your knee bend, hips, and hand technique. He mentions that you played against weak competition and that you are "plodding". Then he says that your strengths are your ability to keep defenders off your body, your quick feed, and your flexibility. You get calls from the Redskins, Eagles, Saints, and Browns, and the Texans send a scout that's about to be fired up to Fairbanks to have you do a few drills. You think you do well, but he just writes stuff down and doesn't tell you anything. Drew Rosenhaus' summer intern calls you up and offers to be your agent, and you accept.
Draft day comes, and you sit at the TV surrounded by snacks, thinking that you could go early if a team really needs a fullback. Your girlfriend Vanessa, a petite blonde cheerleader, hangs with you but doesn't eat since she thinks she may have an audition for Survivor: Wichita coming up soon.
224 picks, 7,200 calories, and 12 compensatory picks (10 to the Patriots) later, you're an undrafted free agent. It's the lowest point of your life. You've always been the star, the big man on campus, the guy who scored with all of the cheerleaders except one. And now it's over. It's time to put that sports communications degree to work, to get a jo-
But wait! What's that noise? It's the sound of Ashlee Simpson's "La La", your favorite song and your Verizon Wireless® ringtone!
You pick up the phone, and it's Herm Edwards of the Kansas City Chiefs. "Helloooooo," he says. "How would you like to try out for the Kansas City Chiefs? I think we're going to field a competitive team this year, and we really need a fullback since we don't really have an offensive line or a passing game or even a concept of how to play offense. We'll give you a one-year contract worth $350,000."
Remembering the warning of Drew Rosenhaus' summer intern, you hedge your bets. "Maybe so, Herm," you say. "Let me talk to my agent and I'll let you know tomorrow."
You hang up the phone, and no sooner do you do so than Ashlee Simpson sings again. "Hello?" you say.
It's Herm again. He accidentally hit redial.
You hang up, and Ashley sings again. You start to tell Herm to knock it off, but it's a different voice, more effeminate, kind of creepy in a guy-who-invites-you-to-see-his-basement kind of way.
"Oh. Hi, Coach Shanahan," you say. "It's nice to hear from you."
"How would you like to be a Denver Bronco?" asks Mike Shanahan. "It's really not as shameful as people think. We'll pay you $XXXXXXX."
"Can I get back to you tomorrow?" you say. "My agent is out doing 21 shots tonight since it's his birthday."
"Sure," says Shanahan. I've got to go bail Marcus Thomas out tonight anyway."
How much would the Broncos have to offer you to make you sign with them instead of the Chiefs?
You got scholarship offers from the University of Rhode Island, Kutztown State, Bowdoin, Bryn Mawr (for field hockey), Brigham Young, Kansas State, and the University of Alaska-Fairbanks. The campus visits are awesome, and non of your host girls were Pentecostal, if you know what I mean.
After discussing it with your parents, your friends, Drew Rosenhaus (who just knocked on your door one day after getting lost, and then befriended you), and some smart kid with moderate cerebral palsy that you threatened to beat up if he didn't advise you, you make the call: University of Alaska-Fairbanks, where the cold weather suits a running quarterback and the sports communications program gives out C's for attendance as long as they see your parka on a chair.
You pack your bags and move to Fairbanks, and show up at your first practice. Unfortunately, the starting quarterback is junior Altaq Nuniaq, also known as the "Alley Oopin' Aleutian", the pride of Siska, a former All-Yukon quarterback who is a crowd favorite and is dating the coach's middle daughter, the one with long red hair, a Meg Ryan smile, and a figure that can really fill out four layers of sweaters. However, a guy like you can't be kept off the field, so they move you to fullback.
You start as a true freshman, and you terrorize the Great North League over the next four years. You pick up 25 pounds of muscle running the glaciers and lifting seals, and you set an Ice League record with 22 touchdowns your senior year. Along the way, you maintain a solid 2.0 GPA in sports communications, even though you have to buy a new coat every semester, and you learn over 200 words for snow. You score with every one of the cheerleaders except the skinny brunette who had a reputation for being slutty, because you don't approve of that.
You don't get invited to the Combine, but that's okay because no fullbacks did. Mel Kiper, Jr., proclaims you to be a possible late second-day pick, and criticizes your knee bend, hips, and hand technique. He mentions that you played against weak competition and that you are "plodding". Then he says that your strengths are your ability to keep defenders off your body, your quick feed, and your flexibility. You get calls from the Redskins, Eagles, Saints, and Browns, and the Texans send a scout that's about to be fired up to Fairbanks to have you do a few drills. You think you do well, but he just writes stuff down and doesn't tell you anything. Drew Rosenhaus' summer intern calls you up and offers to be your agent, and you accept.
Draft day comes, and you sit at the TV surrounded by snacks, thinking that you could go early if a team really needs a fullback. Your girlfriend Vanessa, a petite blonde cheerleader, hangs with you but doesn't eat since she thinks she may have an audition for Survivor: Wichita coming up soon.
224 picks, 7,200 calories, and 12 compensatory picks (10 to the Patriots) later, you're an undrafted free agent. It's the lowest point of your life. You've always been the star, the big man on campus, the guy who scored with all of the cheerleaders except one. And now it's over. It's time to put that sports communications degree to work, to get a jo-
But wait! What's that noise? It's the sound of Ashlee Simpson's "La La", your favorite song and your Verizon Wireless® ringtone!
You pick up the phone, and it's Herm Edwards of the Kansas City Chiefs. "Helloooooo," he says. "How would you like to try out for the Kansas City Chiefs? I think we're going to field a competitive team this year, and we really need a fullback since we don't really have an offensive line or a passing game or even a concept of how to play offense. We'll give you a one-year contract worth $350,000."
Remembering the warning of Drew Rosenhaus' summer intern, you hedge your bets. "Maybe so, Herm," you say. "Let me talk to my agent and I'll let you know tomorrow."
You hang up the phone, and no sooner do you do so than Ashlee Simpson sings again. "Hello?" you say.
It's Herm again. He accidentally hit redial.
You hang up, and Ashley sings again. You start to tell Herm to knock it off, but it's a different voice, more effeminate, kind of creepy in a guy-who-invites-you-to-see-his-basement kind of way.
"Oh. Hi, Coach Shanahan," you say. "It's nice to hear from you."
"How would you like to be a Denver Bronco?" asks Mike Shanahan. "It's really not as shameful as people think. We'll pay you $XXXXXXX."
"Can I get back to you tomorrow?" you say. "My agent is out doing 21 shots tonight since it's his birthday."
"Sure," says Shanahan. I've got to go bail Marcus Thomas out tonight anyway."
How much would the Broncos have to offer you to make you sign with them instead of the Chiefs?