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Kraft Offers Ricky Williams $29 Million to Supply Weed to Patriots Fans
From his Daytona Beach towel, Brady places a call to the local police department.
“Let Roger Goodell out of jail.”
“Who is this?”
“Tom Brady.”
“Tom who?”
“THE Tom Brady. The guy who won six Super Bowls with the Patriots and who this week signed for $30 million to play QB for the Tampa Bay Bucs. You should also know the Bucs will be renamed the Tampa Bay Dragons because I have a thing for the dragon in the movie “Shrek.”
“That donkey really hit it off with the Eddie Murphy-talking donkey, didn’t she?” asked the police officer rhetorically. “And when Shrek needed help whipping some bad actors, the dragon pulled her weight. And those colorful and loving dragon eyes were something to behold. What’s your second favorite movie?”
“I liked Fantasia,” said Brady. “Great animation, compelling story.”
“Ok, cool. We’ll let Roger out.”
Roger calls Bucs coach Bruce Arians.
“Bruce, Tom Brady agreed to get me out of jail for smoking pot if you agree to his demands.”
“Wait, you were smoking pot? With whom?”
“Ricky Williams, AB, Bledsoe, Brady, Kraft, and Belichick.”
“Dude, why didn’t you invite me to the party?” asked Arians.
“You were busy strategizing to get Brady.”
“Yeah, we lied and cheated our butts off to get him.”
“Brady wants Ricky Williams to get a free seat in the endzone pirate ship and after every touchdown, Ricky will blow a bong hit into the sky.”
“Cool. Done.”
“What else does he want?”
“He wants Mike Leach to be at all the home games dressed as a pirate because Leach has a fetish for pirates. And AB and Leach will go for an air balloon ride above the stadium at the end of each game.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
The call ends.
Gronk calls Brady.
“Hey, what color is my stripper pole going to be?”
“Gold.”
“Sweet.”
Call ends.
The Daytona Beach party rocks on. Brady does the rumba with Annette Funicello. Frankie Avalon sings “Beauty School Dropout” to Frenchy.
Olivia Newton-John shows up on the sand in the black outfit she wore in the scene from “Grease” when she and Travolta sang “You’re the One That I Want.”
You would think she would be hot in the long black leather pants, and you would be right.
AB goes to the air balloon store to shop for a new one. He’s torn between a psychedelic one like the last one that crashed in the ocean or the classic black and silver with a Raiders white and fierce skull.
That’s the team he was going to be paid $29 million to play for but got released due to various sensible reasons such as not liking his helmet size and freezing his feet.
Near a greasy fries joint on the beach boardwalk, Ricky stumbled upon the Sammy Sportface Syndication Network. Sportface’s head is down typing a blog about Brady blackmailing Goodell to meet his Dragons demands in return for getting Roger out of jail.
“What are you writing about, Sportface?”
“You. AB. Weed. Brady. Idaho. Air balloons.”
“You forget Eric Von Zipper, Annette Funicello, Joe Burrow, Michael Wilbon, T.O., and Bod Derek. I dig Bo Derek.”
“Everyone digs Bo Derek. Question for you, Ricky. Why did you quit your starting running back position in the NFL to go smoke weed in Timbuktu?”
“It was simple, Sportface. I liked smoking weed more than playing football.”
Ricky’s phone rings.
“Ricky, it’s Robert Kraft. I want to make you a proposition. For $29 million a year I will pay you to come to all our Patriots home games and pass out weed to all the fans. They’re morose about Brady leaving. We need a way to get them excited about the upcoming season. Weed will win them over, catapult their moods, make them forget their troubles especially that the Patriots will never win the Super Bowl again.”
“But I’m all set to be in the pirate’s ship with Mike Leach for Dragons games.”
“How much are they paying you?”
“It’s not about the money, Bob. It’s about the weed.”
“I know. FedEx me a stash today. Belichick and I have to get high in order to deal with the fact that Brady is no longer our quarterback.”
“Sportface reported that Belichick offered the job to Bledsoe for $27,113,” said Ricky.
“Bledsoe wants more. We even offered him an overnight stay at Ramada Inn on Martha’s Vineyard because he likes vineyards. That dog didn’t hunt.”
“I know all this. Guess who I’m with right now?”
“Sportface?”
“How did you know?” asked Ricky.
“That cat is everywhere. He’s a global sports phenomenon during a global pandemic when sports don’t exist. He’s breaking sports stories left and right and nobody knows how or why.”
To be continued…
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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