Son, do you know why I pulled you over?

I observed you going through a post-Super Bowl loss period experiencing little to no sign of outward remorse or crushing sadness. One might even go as far as to say you displayed borderline joyous behavior.

These are serious charges, son. As serious as losing a Super Bowl. When I see you prancing about all willy-nilly like it don’t mean nothing, you force my hand. I’m taking you in.

But first, we gonna have us a little chat. Now, they let you play this game so I know at one point somebody sat you down and told you what’s what. In the off-chance you forgot, allow me to refresh:

The game is life. This game is more than life. Life has plenty of rules so you know the game has even more. The game has so many, I don’t even know most of ‘em. But I do know first and foremost it’s serious business and everything hinges on wins and losses. I’ve ruined men’s health and livelihoods and not given it second thought. But failing at the game? That what haunts me. I lost Super Bowls and turned to alcohol and hard drugs to keep my mind from thinking on it. Turns out those substances don’t mix well with HGH. It resulted in a few assault charges that I’m trying to keep on the low, but the experience as a whole made me a stronger man because I learned to confront my grief head-on, like a defenseless receiver.

I knocked the piss out of my grief. And I let every one know I did it. I didn’t just do it because it’s the law; it’s the right thing to do. People were grateful because they felt right to view the game as a serious business because I did too. They see you not torn up about it, what are they supposed to think? That it doesn’t really matter? Can’t be having that.

We’re gonna take a little ride down the station. I’m gonna let you clear your head in the grief tank and by tomorrow you’ll be carrying on like your loved ones were cut down before their time. Sorry about them, by the way. HGH… [Shrugs]