The world of American Football is on edge as we await the concocted results of the NFL‘s incredible in-depth investigation into the manufactured outrage around Deflategate, that terrifying event between the New England Patriots and the Indianapolis Colts that is – at least in the NFL’s and the media’s “minds” – more serious than killing dogs, more harmful to the sport than beating up women in elevators, and more heinous than rewarding players for injuring opponents: playing a game with a ball ever-so-slightly less inflated with air than in the rule book!
Some evidence has emerged…
Intercepted telephone call #1:
Four rings…
Hello?
(digitally altered voice) Listen very carefully, I will say this only once…
Fucking telemarketers! Why don’t you all burn in a ditch?!
Intercepted telephone call #2:
Three rings…
Hello?
(digitally altered voice) Do not hang up, this is…
What the hell is this shit? Is this someone playing a prank?
(digitally altered voice) I am your NFL handler with instruc…
What?! A robot? Why is a robot handling…?
(no-longer digitally-altered voice) Oh for the love of money! This is your handler with explicit instructions regarding…
I have a handler? What’s a handler?
(sighs) Yes you have a handler! If you want to officiate in the NFL then yes, absolutely, you definitely have a handler and that’s me. Okay?
Well… okay. I suppose. What’s your name?
No names! You may refer to me as Agent L.
Are you good L?
I said no names! Oh! Oh, right, yes, yes, sorry. Sorry, I thought you were asking if I was Goodell. I’m just L.
Okie dokie. What can I do for you then Agent Good L, wink, wink?
Stop that! I have an important mission for you. If you do this right then I’ll see to it that you officiate in Superbowl fifty.
Ooh! That’ll be nice. I hope it’s a simple mission.
Indeed it is. You’ll be checking Tom Brady’s balls before the Colts game…
Hey! That’s a horrible lie! I glanced that one time and that was all. I would never do that again! You know, I don’t think blackmail will work on…
Shut up, shut up, shut up! How can you lot be so inept all the time? Before the game, okay?, the New England Patriots hand in their balls, okay?, and you check them, okay?, and then they go out onto the field, okay? Okay?
Okay.
Underinflate the balls on the way. That is all.
Take all the air out?
No! Just enough! Just enough to be below the allowed amount. Enough to increase the chances of the Colts winning.
Hang on. Does the L stand for Luck, as in Andrew, by any chance?
What?! No! Do I fucking sound like Andrew Luck?
Well, no, but to be fair you started off sounding like a robot. It’s just if this is a betting thing then that’s probably a federal offence and…
It’s not! It’s nothing to do with gambling. Your mission is simply to lessen the Patriots’ chance of getting to the Superbowl. That’s all. Nothing else. Well, that and getting you to the next one, of course.
I don’t know… What if someone realises they’re underinflated.
Don’t worry about that. If that happens then pump them back up, make a note of it, and we’ll see what we can do.
Won’t people ask if someone among the officiating crew tampered with the balls?
They won’t. Trust me. That won’t even cross their fiery little minds.
What happens if the Patriots win anyway?
If it looks like that’s happening then do as before; inflate, make a note, and then let me start some other balls rolling.
Inflated ones I hope.
Please don’t joke during secret mission phonecalls.
Sorry. No, I meant do I still go to the Superbowl next year?
You will be rewarded. Do you understand?
Roger.
I said no names! Oh, oh, sorry! Sorry. You were acknowledging. You were… yes, yes, good. Good. Well, do your job – as the Patriots say – and, er, yes, er, have a nice day.
Intercepted telephone call #3:
Three rings…
Hey you guys! Troy speaking! Ha!
(digitally altered voice) Listen to what I have to say Troy because…
Mom?
(digitally altered voice) No, this is not… Does your mother really sound like this?
Only my mom calls me Troy. Hello mom!
(digitally altered voice) I’m not your mother. Fuck it. (no-longer digitally-altered voice) Better?
Hey! You’re not my mom!
I fucking know that! Will you shut up you grade A moron for a minute and listen!? I need you to… Are you crying?
No.
You’re crying! Oh, come on! Look, right, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to shout. Please stop crying.
(unintelligible words with sniffing for about 30 seconds) Okay. I’m better.
Thank you. I’m sorry. Look, I’ll just say what I’ve got to say, get you do do what you need to do, and then leave you alone.
Okay. And then can we go get some ice cream like what I do after I’m happy?
Well, no. I’m going to leave you alone, remember? And I don’t live near you. I’m talking on the telephone.
Oh.
You can get some ice cream though.
Oh, okay! I like vanilla! What ice cream do you like?
I… How about I tell you my favourite type of ice cream at the end of the phone call? Would that be good?
Yay!
Right. Jesus. I trust you’ve been following the events of “Deflategate” over the past few days?
Yes. My friends at Fox keep telling me what to think about it and that’s good.
Excellent, excellent. Well, I want you to help out your friends – and me – when you make an appearance on your radio show tomorrow. Would you like to help us all out?
Yes. I like helping people. Except for Joe. Joe is mean to me like what a bad man is mean to people.
That’s good. Except for the Joe thing. Although that is interesting, if not that surprising. Let me just make a note of that here… Right! Back to your mission!
Oh! I have a mission! Am I a secret agent?
Yes, sure, why not? You’re a secret agent.
What’s my name?
You can be, er, secret agent Troy.
Mom?
What?!
You’re not my mom!
What?!
Only my mom calls me Troy.
What?! Not this again! Everyone calls you Troy! Your name is Troy. You are Troy.
I don’t know. I’m confused. And you sound angry again like what a bear sounds like when it’s angry.
I’m… not angry. I’m just… constipated. Yes. I’m struggling on the toilet. That’s why my voice sounds strained.
Is that what you want me to help you with?
Oh, good grief no! Well, metaphorically maybe, but not in real life, no.
Meta-what?
(sighs) Like a fake punt.
That’s a thing what you can do in American Football like what I talk about in the television boxes!
I know. I know. Keep calm, Roger, keep calm, oh shit! No names!
I’m a secret agent with no name? I’m like Clint Eastwood with no name. Wait, what would his name be then?
Lord, give me the strength to get through this call. You’re a secret agent with no name and you don’t care that you have no name and you only care about the mission that you’re about to be given that you need to do when you’re on your radio show tomorrow, okay?
…
Is that okay?
… Hang on. I’m only half through all those words you said in my head. Okay… Got it!
Wow! Anyway… Your mission is to tell the people on the radio that Tom Brady must be a liar and that Tom Brady must have known his balls were deflated.
Tom Brady is a nice person.
No he’s not. He is my enemy, which makes him your enemy.
You… you want me to lie? This makes Troy sad.
Get a fucking grip you big… Sorry, sorry. Constipation. Sorry. No, no, I don’t want you to lie, I want you to perform a play action on the radio. You know, say one thing, but mean another.
Oh! Like in American Football like what I talk about…
In the television boxes, yes, yes, I know. Excactly like that! Can you do that?
Yes, I can do that.
Excellent. Right. Great. Okay, well, good. You go do that then. That’s all.
No it’s not.
It’s not?
You haven’t told me your favourite ice cream flavor.
Massachusetts Blood Pie.
I don’t think that’s a real… Hello? Hello? Oh, you hung up like what everyone does when they talk at me.
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