It is not that U of L starts practice this afternoon, nor that Media Day is next week. Nor that I received the season ticket I continue to buy despite media access, because I’m afraid if I stop paying for it they’ll take away my basketball tickets, which are cherished by my bride.
It is not that I got my Phil Steele yearbook, nor that I found myself lingering at the bratwurst section in the grocery.
It’s not that I surfed upon one of the dozen or so daily college football shows, this one where Ron Zook was foolishly prattling on about John L. Smith and how Arkansas won’t skip a beat even though Bobby Petrino is spending the season in pigskin purgatory.
No, it came with a knock on the door, outside of which were standing two swarthy fellows who would have had me chaining the door before opening it . . . except there is no chain on my front door to lock. There were bulges in their pants, which I could tell were not their personal block and tackles, but more steely heat.
“Uh, can I help you?”
“Seedy K?” asked the fellow, who, using the “Fargo” standard would be Carl Showalter, the chatty scofflaw who figures he’s in charge.
“Gnnnuhh,” grunted in support his sidekick, who would be Peter Stormare’s Gaeard Grimsrud to Steve Buscemi’s Showalter.
“Yes,” I gulped.
“We’re here to offer greetings and salutations from Joey the Vig,” offered the one whose name I found to be Guillermo, the more talkative of the two.
“Gnnnuhh,” mumbled sidekick Vlad, while flexing.
“Uh, hey, uh, hi, uh, where’s Vito?” He’s the messenger JTV has sent calling in previous years.
Guillermo, whom I swear appeared during the 15 minutes of Ollie North’s “Savages” I saw before leaving the theater, and Vlad, looked at each other strangely. “He don’t work for Joey no more,” advised the former, with a tone that said, “Don’t be mentioning Vito’s name again.”
“What can I do for you fellows?”
“Hmm, G, it looks like our friend isn’t going to invite us in,” said the suddenly chatty Vlad.
“Uh, well, Barbie, the lady who cleans our house is here. She doesn’t like to be disturbed while working.”
“Hhhmmph,” they said almost in unison.
“Well, then, I’ll get to the point,” said G. “Joey says, even though you never answered any of his texts, he’s sure you want to participate again in his annual football pool. So we’re here to collect the entry fee. You wouldn’t want to miss the deadline now, would you?”
“Yeah, no, well, sure. But, you know I wasn’t expecting you. I’m a little short of cash, since I have to pay my cleaning lady. Can I give you a check?”
At which point, Vlad grabbed his bulge, took a step toward me, and with a serious frown now, advised, “You a wise guy or something? You know Joey don’t take no stinkin’ checks. Tell that lady with the mop in her hand you’ll just have to owe her.”
So I did.
Coming soon: the latest version of Seedy K’s Pithy Pigskin Predictions.
– Seedy K