10/24 Court of Judge Lance Ito Smith Press Conference Transcript

Coach Berg (wearing black sunglasses and a backward Chance the Rapper 3 cap) and newly acquired WR Larry Fitzgerald enter the room and sit down at the table. Fitz uses the Brita pitcher in front of him to fill a glass with water and then proceeds to wink at it, turning it into wine. He nonchalantly takes a sip. Cameras shutter and flash.

Coach Berg: Good afternoon.

Light grumblings from the reporters in the room. Coach Berg looks annoyed at the lack of enthusiasm.

CB: Let’s try that again. GOOD AFTERNOON!

Complete silence, followed by the sound of one reporter clearing his throat. In the distance, you can hear the tail end of what is clearly a conversation between two reporters about something that has nothing to do with football.

Reporter in background:…and that is both why the designated hitter rule is the worst rule in baseball and how i got crabs the second time.

CB: Fuck it. What you got for me?

Reporter 2: Coach Berg, Fister Mantastic from Brotherlode Times. The past two years, you have orchestrated trades to acquire Larry Fitzgerald from Coach McVicker’s McLicker Lites. Would you say that you value him more than Coach McVicker did?

CB: I’d say that my bro crush on Fitz is strong. Coach Berg proceeds to do the fist-bump blow-it-up with Larry while neither of them breaks eye contact with the reporter.

Cameras whirling and clamoring of reporter voices.

Reporter 3: Thanks, Coach Berg. Brett Lockheed, Post-Gazette Daily. My question is for Mr Fitzger-

Larry Fitzgerald: Uh, excuse me. DOCTOR Fitzgerald. I didn’t go to University of Phoenix Online to be simply called “Mister”

Report 3: Sorry, Doctor Fitzgerald. What do you have to say about the naysayers, the haters, and the doubters who say you’re washed up? That you have a bum hamstring and a rookie QB who doesn’t really seem to want to throw to you. That you’ll be cut by the end of the…

LF: What? Who said that?

Reporter 3 has a blank stare on his face. His eyes widen as he feigns flipping through his notepad for the name of the source. The notepad is mostly doodles and the following scribbled out “Mr Brett Lockheed. Mr and Mrs Brett Lockeed-Lord. Mr Brett Lord. Mr and Mrs Trak Lockeed-Lord.”

He sits down and looks to the sky while pointing to the seat to his left where an excited (albeit calm) two-year old labradoodle is perched on the chair staring at the table.

CB: Does anyone have any meaningful questions? We are really trying to get this intro done before the Popeye’s $5 Wednesday runs out.

Reporter 4: Yes, I do. Lenny Capaldi, Irish Times. You’re 5–2 and have proven capable of weathering the “Le’Veon Bell Was My #1 Pick” storm, but you are still way behind Coach Lord and Reid’s teams in terms of points for and are rostering Duke Johnson for christ’s sake! Do you think this move makes your team better or is it in fact another example of the cronyism you’ve been accused of in year’s past?

The entire room erupts in applause and Lenny high fives everyone within an earshot. The labradoodle jumps off the chair and comes over to acknowledge the firey journalist as well, giving him a nod and wags his tail as he exits the room.

CB: Jesus, man. That’s a pretty loaded question don’t you think? I mean — fuck — yeah i think having Larry makes us a better squad. It’s a choice between Fitz’ leadership and rostering a Tennessee Titan, i’m going to pick Fitz. What is this question really about?

The lights go out in the entire room. Completely black. Suddenly a single spotlight shines at the fire exit door on none other than league leader and former Harrer Cup champion Coach Trak Lord. He is holding a t-shirt cannon which he proceeds to fire into the crowd of reporters. The reporters crash together trying to jostle for a chance as a “Is This Cheese?” Borat tshirt.

Coach Lord: See you in week 11.

He bursts into flames and disappears.

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Adam Rosenberg
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Ladies and D2

Comms at Vindex. "Safety Dance" enthusiast. Mediocre DJ. Proud Doodle Dad. I write fantasy fantasy sports fiction.