- Joined
- Dec 22, 2015
- Messages
- 2,615
- Name
- John
.....oooooor, did a certain SOMEONE with knowledge of the plays and a hint of Niner stench covertly deliver the information to the Niners, in an effort to make Keenum and the Rams look bad, and quicken the era of said SOMEONE?
No, couldn't be. Ooooor....I dunno, perhaps SOMEONE was in town and at moms house for a nice warm meal, <cough> Goff<cough> and oh I don't know, maybe there was enough room at the table for another guest, <cough> Chip <cough> and there was an exchange like this:
Jared: "Gee mom, this Pizza is great. You can't get this great Marin County pizza down in LA. Please pass the Parmesan."
Mrs. G: "Oh honey. I was going to make you a nice healthy salad and some lean fish. -put down that playbook, Jared! It's rude to read at the dinner table! Besides, we have a guest- Anyway, I know how much you like pizza. And besides, we have to bulk you up, and make you more starter.....er.....STOUT. Make you more stout. Mr. Kelly, would you like me to hang up your trench coat?"
Chip the troll-looking dinner guest: "Oh, no thanks....uh ...I still have a little chill from the night air."
Mr. G: "Well, Chip, thank you for taking the time to come to the our home for dinner. You don't know what a thrill it is for our family to have THE coach of the team we have loved and adored all these years, right here in our humble home....honey, pass me a bread stick, please?"
Chip, the troll-looking dinner guest: "Well, I was happy to attend, sir That's a fine boy you've got there". (Looking adoringly, yet nervously, at Jared. Chip then glances down at Jareds feet and sees a binder labeled: RAMS PLAYBOOK: do not let into the hands of any Niner swine.- I'm in luck! Chip thinks to himself!) "We nearly selected Jared, you know....thought for sure he'd be there at seven....Oh not that he didn't deserve to go first! (Gesturing sheepishly to Jerry Goff) ....its just, the Rams caught us of guard with that desperate...I mean DARING....move up to one for Jared." Chip glances around the room. Then says under his breath..."besides, who knew Commie Kaep was going to go all Huey Newton on me...."
Mr. G: "Well, it should be a fine game. May the best team win!" The elder Goff said thrusting his glass in the air in a gesture of toast. Mrs. G and their daughter also raise their glasses of Napa's finest gracefully above their heads. Chip paws at his glass and holds it up, hand shaking, nervous about the dastardly deed he is about commit.
Jared, oblivious, continues to eat his pizza.
"Jared!" His mother screams across the table, finally catching her sons attention.
"Oh, sorry mom." He says, groping for his Gatorade bottle, adorned with the black letters written in sharpie-G O F F- written on it. He and that bottle have been inseparable since Oxnard. "Cheers"
Chip, then realizes his opportunity is now. "Beautiful view out your east window, folks", everyone turns to admire the lucious hills overlooking the North bay. Chip begins to lunge, then stops. (The kid is still chewing, cow-eyed. Grabbing another slice of pricuito and goat cheese)
"Hey Jared, is that that the sun set?!" The pudgy coach desperately urges, hoping to get the young quarterback to turn his head with the rest of his family.
Jared, unfazed, snickers, "Mr. Kelly. The sun sets in the west. Everyone knows that! Don't you ever watch Hard Knocks?"
Chip has one last move. "Jared, be a lamb and pass the playbook...er....peppers! Pass the peppers. Yessiree love me some hot peppers on my...goat cheese pizza."
Jared hands the container of peppers and Chip "accidently" drops them under the table.
"Oops, I'll get that!" The slimy coach says, slithering under the family dining table.
"I fumbled again!" The young Jared laments, blaming himself for the bad exchange.
"It's your fault!" Mr. Goff lashes out at his wife. "If he had just got my hands. The Goff hands. Big. Beefy. Like a catcher! But nnnooooo. He had to get dainty hands from yoooouur side of the family!"
(Meanwhile, Chip, under the table, eyes the prize. -a quick glance under the skirt of the young Goff sister-No! Not that prize! He carefully reaches past Jareds leg, grabs the playbook, and thrusts it down past the lapel of his London Fog. {it's mine! All mine!})
"Well he got YOUR athletic ability! You minor league loser!" The scorned wife retaliated. "We wonder why he isn't starting, when his father couldn't even hit above the Mendoza line!"
"People, people! Please, don't fight. It was my fault. I dropped the peppers. Jared's hands are fine." Chip says, beads of sweat on his forehead, emerging from under the table. "Besides, lot's of small handed quarterbacks have made a living in this league...."
"...hahahaha!" the entire table emerged in laughter, as the coaches levity made them all forget about their fight.
Chip, the troll-like dinner guest: "Well folks, it's been a great meal. I do have to go. Team meetings, you know. Thanks you so much for all the plays...uh, the PIZZA. Thanks for the pizza"
Mr. G: "Well, thank you for coming Chip. Best to you Monday night!" (Door closes)
Jared: "Mom, have you seen my playbook?"
Mrs G: (taking the dishes off the table) "Oh I'm sure it's around here someplace, honey. Your just going to be in street clothes anyway. I'm sure coach Fisher will get you another playbook."
Jared: (Shrugging) "Yeah....does anybody want this last piece of pizza?"
