*Any similarities to the movie The Hangover are completely intentional...
A Daily Norseman Play in Several Acts
As OTA's come and go, training camp comes and goes, and the 2010 pre-season comes and goes, there is still no word from Brett Favre (Doug) as to what his intentions are for the 2010 season. In a panic, Chilly sends down Darrell Bevell (Stu), Adrian Peterson (Phil), and Steve Hutchinson (Alan) to Kiln, MS. What happened over that crazy weekend can now be revealed, before it actually happens (thanks to my Hot Tub Time Machine). I present The Favreover, coming soon to a theater near you:
Its early afternoon in Coach Brad Childress’ New Orleans hotel suite. From the panoramic window on the far wall, you can see the Louisiana Superdome in one direction, and Bourbon Street in the other. People are milling about the streets below. On the wall mounted, flat panel TV an ESPN Sportscenter anchor is discussing the opening night game of the 2010 NFL season, a rematch of the 2009 NFC Championship game between the New Orleans Saints and the Minnesota Vikings. In the room, head coach BRAD CHILDRESS and team owner ZYGI WILF are sitting on a couch, looking at the TV:
…and so, it all comes down to this: Is Brett Favre going to be suited up tonight for the Minnesota Vikings? The sporting world awaits.”
frontal shot of Wilf and Childress side by side on the couch, TV behind camera shot. Wilf is dressed in a custom made, black pinstripe Armani suit, purple and gold striped silk tie, expensive Italian shoes, hair well coiffed, sipping a cup of coffee from an expensive teacup. Brad Childress is wearing a black Vikings Polo shirt, black jeans, and is holding a multi-colored placard over his mouth.
WILF: Have you heard from Adrian?
CHILDRESS: No, he called a couple days ago and said him, Hutch, and DB almost had him convinced, but they were going to take one more ride on that damn tractor—
WILF: For God’s sakes, Bradley, would you take that damn placard away from your mouth? I can’t hear a freakin’ thing you’re saying. (Childress’ cell phone rings)
CHILLY: Sorry, boss. Lemme get this. (Answering phone) Hello?
Vikings RB Adrian Peterson, somewhere on a dirty street, cellphone to his ear. Heat waves rise off the road and he is standing in front of a beat up, Vikings colored Dodge pickup truck. It's scratched, dented, filthy - - and missing its passenger side door. Slouched inside are Steve Hutchinson and Darrell Bevell, also looking like hell. Peterson’s shirt is torn, a football is duct taped to his other hand, and he hasn’t slept in days.
PETERSON: Coach, it’s All Day. .
CHILLY: (Concerned, yet monotone voice) Hey AD! Where the hell are you guys?
PETERSON: Listen, coach, convincing Brett to play got a little out of control and, well...we lost Brett.
CHILLY: (placard drops to the floor, stunned look overtakes Chilly’s face) What? So, he’s not playing, huh?
PETERSON: No, he’ll play. It’s just that we…physically misplaced him. He’s lost. We can’t remember where we put him.
CHILLY: What? Our season opener starts in five hours!
PETERSON: Yeah…that’s not gonna happen.
CUT TO 72 HOURS EARLIER, I-10 FREEWAY, AFTERNOON
The sun roof open, “Skol Vikings" fight song blasting from the stereo, the Dodge pickup with Minnesota Vikings colors rockets down I-10 towards Biloxi. At the wheel is Brett Favre, wearing Wrangler jeans and a sweat covered Nike hat. Sitting shotgun is Steve Hutchinson, offensive lineman and a guy that’s just…not…right. Behind Hutch sits Adrian Peterson, best RB in the NFL and an all around great guy. Next to Hutch is Darrell Bevell, late 30's, the anal retentive offensive coordinator. He's currently applying sun screen to his forehead.
PETERSON: We need you on this team, Brett. Look, we were one bad throw from going to the Super Bowl. Hutch’s back is better, I’m the best RB in football, and Bev’s got a ton of new plays drawn up.
BEVELL: Yeah, Brett, this year, you get to run the whole offense, from the word go. We even have some formations where we line up twelve guys in the huddle. It’ll be awesome!
FAVRE: I thought 12 men in the huddle was illegal. The refs seemed to think so.
HUTCH: It’s not illegal, it’s just frowned upon. Like masturbating live on NFL network.
FAVRE: I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, Hutch.
HUTCH: Yeah, maybe after the labor negotiations got so sensitive. Thanks a lot, Goodell.
FAVRE: Either way, we have to be pretty smart to get away with 12 men in a huddle. It’s not easy.
HUTCH: Okay, well why don’t you tell that to Mike Tice, who did goofier things than that all the time and went to the playoffs, and he was a ra-tard.
CUT TO HOTEL ROOF BEAU RIVAGE, BILOXI. HUTCH, FAVRE, AP, AND BEVELL ARE STANDING IN A CIRCLE, GETTING READY TO TOAST FAVRE’S RETURN TO THE MINNESOTA VIKINGS
FAVRE: Well, I’m glad you guys aren’t pissed. I just hate training camp, especially in Mankato. I’ve never been to Mankato, but I haven’t heard many good things about it. I thought Green Bay was bad, having to ride those gay ass bicycles from the locker room to the practice field, but I’m a grandpa now, and I really don’t want to practice twice a day. Thanks for understanding.
PETERSON: This is awesome! If all we needed was a quick road trip to Biloxi to get you to come back, we’d have done this months ago. Let’s toast---
HUTCH (Rudely Interrupting): I wanna say something. You guys might not know this, but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf pack. But when Chilly signed Favre, I knew he was one of my own. And my wolf pack... it grew by one. So there... there were two of us in the wolf pack... I was alone first in the pack, and then Darrell joined in later. And two years ago, when Darrell introduced me to you guys, I thought, "Wait a second, could it be?" And now I know for sure, I just added two more guys to my wolf pack. Four of us wolves, running around Biloxi, looking for stick ‘em and a Vince Lombardi trophy. So tonight, I make a toast! (Hutch pulls out a knife and cuts himself on the hand). Blood Brothers!! (A horrified AP and Favre look away…Bevell sharts himself).
CUT TO DESTROYED SUITE INSIDE THE BEAU RIVAGE. BEVELL STUMBLES INTO VIEW, LOOKING AWFUL, MISSING A FRONT TOOTH. FROM BEHIND A BAR, HUTCH EMERGES, AND BEGINS TO STAGGER TOWARDS THE BATHROOM, WEARING A ‘PACKERS SUCK’ T-SHIRT BUT NO PANTS. HE STUMBLES OVER PETERSON, ASLEEP IN THE HALLWAY WITH A FOOTBALL DUCT TAPED TO HIS LEFT HAND. AS HUTCH ENTERS BATHROOM AND STARTS TO PEE, A TIGER GROWLS FIVE FEET FROM HUTCH. HUTCH SCREAMS, RUNNING OUT OF THE ROOM. HE TRIPS OVER PETERSON, WAKING HIM UP.
PETERSON: Hutch, what the hell? Will you get control of yourself? And damn, put on some pants.
HUTCH: DO NOT go in the bathroom! There is a TIGER in the bathroom. A JUNGLE CAT!!
PETERSON: Calm down, I’ll go check it out. (He opens the door to the bathroom). HOLY HELL!! How did a freakin’ tiger get in the bathroom? That’s awesome!!
PETERSON (TO BEVELL): DB, do you feel all right?
BEVELL: No, this is the worst I’ve ever felt. Worse than the time Chilly told me he was going to let me call the plays and then didn’t…hey, do you know you have a football duct taped to your hand?
HUTCH: What are we going to do about the freakin’ tiger?
PETERSON: Hutch, would you please put some pants on? I feel weird having to ask you twice. Look, we gotta get Brett and head to New Orleans. Season opener is tonight. DB, go wake him up.
BEVELL: I already checked. He’s not in there. (Feeling his upper jaw with his tongue) Am I missing a TOOTH? HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?
PETERSON: Well, we gotta find him. (Flips open cell and dials number, presumably Brett’s. Distant phone ringing can be heard). Is that coming from the closet? (Sound of a baby crying begins).
BEVELL: Is that a baby? In the closet?
ALL THREE MEN RUN TOWARDS THE CLOSET, FLINGING OPEN THE DOOR. AS THEY OPEN IT UP, AARON RODGERS IS PASSED OUT, WHIMPERING SOFTLY, WITH EYEBLACK BENEATH EACH EYE.
HUTCH: How the fuck did a he get in the closet?
PETERSON: Rodgers has been in the closet since high school---not that there’s anything wrong with that. He’ll come out of the closet when he’s ready. What in the HELL happened last night? I can’t remember a goddamn thing!! (Hutch and DB nod in agreement as all three walk back to the living room and sit down, leaving Rodgers in the closet, still whimpering). Wow, Brett’s gone. We gotta find him.
BEVELL: Look, let’s try and remember what happened. What’s the last thing anyone remembers?
PETERSON (Looking disgustedly at his duct taped hand): Well, I remember toasting on the roof, and then we did dinner at Shoney’s. Then we played craps back at the Beau Rivage…man, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hung over. Okay, we’ve got up until about 10 pm, which gives us a twelve hour window in which we could’ve lost him.
HUTCH (Pulling DB’s tooth out of his pocket): What is this?
Bevell (Reaching over to grab it): That is my TOOTH!! WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT?!?! What else do you have in there?
Peterson: No no no—this is a good thing. Everyone check your pockets, we might find some clues. Anybody have anything?
AP, Bevell, and Hutch begin emptying their pockets onto the coffee table. AP tries to use his left hand, and looks down disgustedly to the football taped to it.
Bevell: Okay, I have an ATM receipt from the Beau Rivage at 11 pm last night for $72, 000 DOLLARS. I’m just an offensive coordinator, not a player!! CHILLY IS GOING TO KILL ME!!
Hutch: I have a valet parking ticket that shows we got in at five this morning.
AP( Rubbing forehead with right hand): Holy crap, we drove last night? I hope it wasn’t me that was driving, because we probably did over 100 mph to get back here.
Hutch (pointing to hospital bracelet): Hey, what’s that on your wrist?
Bevell: Jesus, AP, you were in the hospital last night.
Hutch: Are you okay?
Peterson: No, I’m not fine, you dumbass. I’ve got a football duct-taped to my hand, and it’s really starting to piss me off. I GET IT—I put the ball on the ground a little too much last season.
Hutch: Hahahahaha. Football duct taped to your hand. Classic.
Peterson: Look, this is actually a good thing. This is our first lead, a clue. We can go there, and maybe someone will remember us, and we can find Brett.
Hutch: Well, what hospital does it say on the wristband?
Peterson (looking at band, eyes squinting): The Dr. James Andrews Sports Clinic of Greater Biloxi.
Hutch: Let’s go!!
Stay tuned for act II tomorrow!!