Post-Game Interview

I don’t know how I do it. I’m a pretty lucky guy sometimes. I scored a ticket to the big college football game on Saturday. And not only did I get to see the game; I also ended up at the post-game press conference. It was fascinating, to say the least.

The head coach came out of the locker room and took the podium. All of the reporters yelled, “Coach! Coach Howard!”

He pointed at one of them, and then the questioning began.

“Coach, it’s been a long time since there’s been a game that lopsided. You guys lost 83 – 2. What was the game plan going in?

“All for one, one for all, every man for himself.”

“Considering the outcome, do you think that was the best way to approach things?”

“Why don’t you get a toupee with some brains in it?”

“Hey, there’s no need to get personal, coach. I was just...”

“I’ll tear your esophagus out and shove it right in your eye!”

In the face of such vituperation, the reporter judiciously backed off. Another reporter asked a question.

“Coach, in the third quarter, your quarterback went down with an injury. You ran out onto the field and talked to him while he was lying there. What did you say to him?”

“Hey, kid, say a few syllables! Utter a few adjectives! Tell me your name so I can tell your mother!”

“And then what did he say?”

“He said, ’My mother KNOWS my name.’”

“So, then you slapped him, punched him in the stomach, and poked him in the eyes, right? What did he say then?”

“He said, ‘I can’t see! I can’t see!’ and when I asked him why not, he said, ‘I’ve got my eyes closed!’ so I hit him over the head with my clipboard, stuck my finger up his nostril and dragged him off the field by his nose.”

“Coach! Coach!”

“OK, lamebrain, you’re next.”

“Was this worse than your loss to that team from upstate New York?”

“NIAGARA FALLS!!!”

He was then overcome with some sort of a fit. It was pretty much the consensus opinion that none of the reporters would attempt to follow up on that line of questioning. Instead, they asked about the team’s star running back, Lawrence Fine.

Coach Howard said, “Why don’t you ask him yourself, cabbagehead? Hey, Porcupine, c’mere!”

Fine said, “I’ll do it when I’m good and ready!”

The coach asked, “Are you ready?”

Fine said, “Yeah, I'm ready...”

A reporter asked about Fine’s inability to keep the same roommates all year long. He noted Fine’s purported snoring problem.

Fine retorted angrily, “I don’t snore! I stayed up all last night to see if I snored, and I didn’t.”

Another reporter: “Well, now you’re rooming with a defensive back, Sam Horowitz. Do you guys get along?”

“Sure, we’re known as The Fishmarket Duet!”

“The Fishmarket Duet?”

“Yeah, we sing for the halibut!”

Just then, Horowitz walked into the room and joined Fine at the podium. Another reporter stood up.

“I’m Brown from The Sun.”

Horowitz said, “Aw, that’s too bad. Are you peeling?”

Coach Howard came back into the room, bonked their heads together like two coconuts, and left again.

Brown asked a question.

“Sam, following a play in the second quarter, you went up into the stands, grabbed a handful of ice creams from a vendor, and then you and Fine went over to the opposing bench and rubbed the ice creams all over the face of opposing Coach Vernon Dent. What did he say to the two of you after that?”

“He said, ‘If I ever see you guys again, I’ll tear you limb from limb!’”

“And what did you say in return?”

“I said, ‘Them’s fightin’ words in MY country!’”

“Well, how come there wasn’t a fight?”

“We’re not in my country!”

Fine and Horowitz left the interview area, and next up to the mic were offensive linemen Besser and DeRita.

“Joe! Joe!”

In unison, they both said, “Yes?”

Directing his question towards Besser, a reporter asked how physical the game had been.

“Not so ha-ard!”

“Joe, it looked like maybe you really didn’t have your heart in this whole thing? Any truth to that?”

“Oooooh, you big snitch, you!”

DeRita didn’t say anything memorable.

Finally, the team’s quarterback, Curly Q. Link, took some questions.

“Curly, what does the ‘Q’ stand for?”

“Quff”

“Curly, early on in the game, it appears that you audibled a play. Could you run through that sequence for us?”

“Soiteny!”

“What was the audible call?”

“B-A-Bay, B-E-Bee, B-I-Bicky-Bi, B-O-Bo, Bicky-Bi-Bo-B-U-Boo, Bicky-Bi-Bo-Boo.”

(I remember that play. The team was hit with two delay of game penalties by the time he finished the call.)

“Curly, some say that you’ve overcome a lot of adversity to get to this point. What's your philosophy of life?”

“If at first you don’t succeed, keep on sucking ‘til you DO succeed!”

“Before you became the team’s quarterback, you had a job, right?”

“I was a pilot in a bakery.”

“A pilot in a bakery?”

“Yeah, I took the bread from one corner and piled it in another.”

“Did you work there long?”

“Nah, I got sick of the dough and went on the loaf.”

“Curly, you threw six interceptions, fumbled five times, you were sacked nine times, and you completed only three passes in the entire game. What happened out there?”

“I'm a victim of soicumstance!”

The moderator told us that there was time for just one more question. By this time, Coach Howard and all the rest of the players had left the locker room, and were in the interview area.

A reporter asked, “Guys, you’ve lost every game this year, and you’ve been outscored by a combined 438 to 19. Is there a reason, overall, why you’re willing to take the beating you take, week after week?”

The boys thought about it for a minute, then they all answered in unison:

“For duty and humanity!”

Then they all ran away. I heard a faint “Woob, woob, woob, woob, woob!” trailing off into the distance as they did so.

I made my way back to my suite at the Hotel Costa Plente. I called room service and ordered some burnt toast and a rotten egg. When they asked why I wanted burnt toast and a rotten egg, I said I had a tapeworm and it was good enough for him.

Well, not really, but it seemed appropriate.