Perhaps It’s Merely a Phase That Will Pass If and When Brian Bosworth Grows Up

Brian Bosworth and his agent are in conference with the boss of the professional football team that drafted him.

“Why should I play for your stupid team?”

“Because, Mr. Bosworth, we feel that you were an excellent linebacker at the University of Oklahoma, and that you would be an excellent addition to the Seattle Seahawks.”

“Yeah, but why should I live in your stupid city?”

“Mr. Bosworth, I can assure you that Seattle is one of the nicest cities anywhere.”

“Well, maybe I’ll live in your stupid city and play for your stupid team, but first I want a seven-year contract worth $9 million.”

“But Mr. Bosworth, that would make you the highest-paid player in National Football League history.”

“You got it, dude.”

“But Mr. Bosworth, you have never even played one play in the National Football League.”

“So? Do you want me to play for your stupid football team and live in your stupid city, or don’t you?”

“Uh, don’t.”

“Man, you are just as stupid as I thought! No wonder I don’t want to live in your stupid city! You’re nothing but a bunch of stupids! You don’t deserve me! I’m outta here!”

“Goodby, Mr. Bosworth. Don’t let the door hit you in the backfield.”

“You’ll be sorry!”

In the hallway, Bosworth’s agent takes his client aside. “Brian, go easy. No need to be so rude.”

“Aw, man. I told ya. I only wanna play for Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia, Tampa or Tulsa.”

“But Tulsa isn’t in the NFL.”

“Hey, don’t lay that trip on me, dude! That’s your job! Work something out!”

“Brian, the Seahawks took you in the supplementary draft. They own your rights for now.”

“Then I’ll just sit out a year! Maybe I’ll play college ball another year!”

“Your college eligibility has expired, Brian.”

“I don’t care. Write a bunch of colleges. There’s only a couple I’d be willing to play for. Those Texas schools pay good, don’t they?”

“Brian, you’d better face up to it. You’re a pro now. You can’t just pick your team.”

“We’ll see about that, man. I’ll go to Japan, man.”

One year later. Bosworth is in his room, writing letters.

“Dear Indianapolis: I hate your city. Remember not to draft me. Sincerely, Boz.”

“Dear Green Bay: I hate your city. I ain’t exactly sure where it is, but I hate it. Don’t draft me if you know what’s good for me. Yours truly, Boz.”

“Dear Pittsburgh: Your city is the pits. Draft me and I’ll kill you. Yours for better linebacking, Boz.”

“Dear Detroit: I wouldn’t live in your city if every sportswriter moved out. If you draft me, I’ll be really, really mad. Best wishes, Boz.”

Bosworth gets up and goes to the store because he runs out of paper.

Another month later. Bosworth is in his agent’s office.

“Whaddaya mean, Cincinnati drafted me? I ain’t gonna play for no Cincinnati! I can’t even spell Cincinnati!”

“You can’t even spell Tampa.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Look, Brian, I warned you about this. You can’t be that picky.”

“Call Al Davis! Call Buddy Ryan! Call Ray Perkins! They want me! Tell ‘em to get me! Tell ‘em to trade somebody! I am the great and powerful Boz! I have spoken!”

Another month later. Bosworth is on the phone with Chicago Coach Mike Ditka.

“Hey, Dit, I appreciate your trading Payton to Cincinnati to get the rights to me. I really do, dude. But I’m sorry, it just ain’t gonna work out. First off, you refuse to bench Singletary and give me his job. Second off, you refuse to pay me what Payton was makin’, even though everybody knows I’m a better player than him. And third off, the last time I was in Chicago, I froze my hair off. A blue face just don’t go with my hair color, dude. So, thanks a lot, but no thanks. See you in the Pro Bowl.”

Ten years later. Bosworth is in his room, writing letters.

“Dear St. Louis: I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Brian Bosworth. I used to play football for Oklahoma. They say I was pretty good. I know I am a little old now, but I would still like to give the NFL a shot. I am still in very good shape, and although I have gone as bald as Ray Nitschke, I am not as old as I look. If you have any interest in me, you can contact me at Sooner Shoes in Norman, Okla., where I am a salesman. Call me anytime of the day or night. The pay doesn’t matter. I only desire a chance to play.

“Respectfully,

“Brian Bosworth”