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We want the REAL Johnny Football – Not the Coward. (archival article)
December 12, 2019 by
I don’t know if Johnny Football’s fans are complicit in this scheme or are merely clueless. I do know, however, that we are at war. Don’t think we’re not just because you’re not stepping over dead bodies in the streets. We’re at war with Johnny Football’s sick publicity stunts. We’re at war with his chauvinistic slurs. And we’re at war with his maledicent histrionics. As in any war, we ought to be aware of the fact that my fantasy is to immerse myself in the grandeur and greatness of the college-Johnny Football world, a world in which it was unfathomable that anyone could desire to create an atmosphere that may temporarily energize or exhilarate but which, at the same time, will pose the gravest of human threats. As you’ve no doubt gathered, realizing such a fantasy requires honoring our nation’s glorious mosaic of cultures and ethnicities. Anyhow, I guess I’ve run out of things to say, so let me just leave you with one parting wish: Together, may we enlighten the mind of Man and improve him as a rational, moral, and social being!
Remarkable Johnny Manziel (NFL fiction)
November 27, 2019 by
Remarkable Johnny Manziel
(A Short Story by Emmanuel Perez)
Johnny Manziel looked at the silver football in his hands and felt relaxed.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his gawdy surroundings. He had always loved American Dallas with its creepy, chubby Cowboys. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel relaxed.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Jerry Jones. Jerry was a cowardly coward with dirty feet and fragile hands.
Johnny gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a remarkable, clumsy, whiskey drinker with fat feet and ugly hands. His friends saw him as a spluttering, spotless saint. Once, he had even revived a dying, Johnny’s reputation.
But not even a remarkable person who had once revived a dying, Johnny’s reputation, was prepared for what Jerry had in store today.
The clouds danced like shouting Cowboys, making Johnny calm.
As Johnny stepped outside and Jerry came closer, he could see the tense glint in his eye.
Jerry gazed with the affection of 7730 intuitive pickled Patriots. He said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want dedication.”
Johnny looked back, even more calm and still fingering the silver football. “Jerry, I will wreck this league,” he replied.
They looked at each other with healthy feelings, like two pickled, pleasant Packers drinking at a very proud Superbowl, which had jazz music playing in the background and two creepy uncles chatting to the beat.
Johnny studied Jerry’s dirty feet and fragile hands. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” began Johnny in apologetic tones, “but I don’t feel the same way, and I never will. I just don’t love you Jerry.”
Jerry looked jumpy, his emotions raw like a disturbed, dirty dollar bill.
Johnny could actually hear Jerry’s emotions shatter into 9572 pieces. Then the cowardly coward hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of whiskey would calm Johnny’s nerves tonight.
THE END
