Watching various “professional” football players bumbling through the snow and rain this weekend reminded me of a story told by NFL quarterback-turned-sportswriter Babe Laufenberg.
Laufenberg was in Hawaii covering the Pro Bowl after Super Bowl XXVIII – a tough gig, I’m sure. Anyway, he was waiting for the elevator when the doors opened and there stood Thurman Thomas, holding his young daughter.
Just the month before, Thomas had lost two fumbles in the Super Bowl, leading to ten points for the Cowboys, and this came a year after he’d lost another fumble in Super Bowl XXVII.
Laufenberg saw him standing there, holding his little girl, and his heart went out to the guy. He said he just wanted to go up and say, “Thurman, don’t drop her!“
After many years of dithering and changing his mind, Brett Favre finally dies and goes up to heaven. At the Pearly Gates he’s met by God, who says, “Brett, it’s great to finally meet you in person. I’ve been a big fan of yours for years. Come on, let’s go take a look at your new house.”
So they walk up this little hill in the center of heaven to a modest one-story ranch-style house. “Hey,” says God. “Take a look at this.” He flips up the flag on the mailbox – and it’s a Packers pennant.
Brett says, “Well thanks, God, that’s really-” Then he sees another house a little way up the hill. It’s a sprawling mansion, three stories at least. Over the front door hangs a Dallas Cowboys banner. Each windowshade bears the Cowboys logo. And jutting up from the roof is a forty foot flagpole, flying a giant Cowboys flag.
So Brett says, “Gosh, God, I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but did you have to put me right next to Tony Romo’s house?”
God just chuckles. “That’s not Tono Romo’s house, Brett. That’s my house.”
(A friend of mine told me this one, I have no idea where it came from.)