The worn-down tavern in Ann Arbor, Michigan was
nearly empty. A few old timers sat at one end of the bar, staring into their
half-empty beers, smoking cheap cigarettes. A couple of bikers shot pool in the
back room, while a heavy-set woman looked on. Nobody took much notice of the
young man sitting in the corner, watching Super Bowl XXXIV from an 18-inch TV that
hung from the ceiling. To the others, he could have been invisible, which was
exactly the way he liked it. The countless number of people who would have surely
recognized him—as the star quarterback for the University of Michigan—were miles
away, at private Super Bowl parties, or at sports bars much closer to campus. Young
Tom Brady liked the empty dive-bar because he could enjoy the big game in peace
and quiet.
“Can
I buy you a drink, handsome?”
Young
Tom didn’t even notice the woman walk through the door, let alone sit down on
the stool next to him. She was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever laid
his eyes on and he immediately wondered what she was doing in such a filthy, darkened
hole on the bad side of town. “You want to buy me a drink?” was what came out of his mouth.
“What
are you having?” she asked.
“Fuzzy
Navel.”
“Fuzzy Navel?”
“I
like the way they taste,” Young Tom smiled. “Fruity!”
“One
Fuzzy Navel,” the beautiful woman said to the bartender. “And a double whiskey for
me.”
“On
the rocks?” the bartender asked.
“I
don’t think so.” The beautiful woman gave the bartender a wink before turning
her attention back to Young Tom. “So, you like football?”
“Gee
Whiz Miss, I’m just wild about football. It’s my favorite sport.”
“What
about me?” The beautiful woman asked as the bartender placed the drinks on the
bar. “Are you wild about me?”
“I
think you’re awfully pretty,” Young Tom blushed.
“I
bet you do.” The beautiful woman drank down her whiskey with one gulp. “What if
I told you that you could have me?”
“But
we hardly even know each other.”
“I
know a lot about you, Thomas Edward Patrick Brady, Jr.”
“Hey,
how did you know my name?”
“I
told you, I know an awful lot about you. I’ve been watching you for a long
time. Now, tell me, what do you want more than anything else in the world?”
“I
want to be the greatest quarterback who ever lived. I want to be just like my
hero, Joe Montana.”
“What
if I told you I could give you that? What if I could promise you’d be even
better than Joe Montana?”
“Gee
whiz Miss, that would be super! But what’s the catch?”
“I
want your soul.”
“My
soul?”
“Yes,
your soul.”
“Wait
just a second. Who are you?”
“I’m
the devil of course.” The beautiful woman leaned over and licked Young Tom’s
ear. “But you can call me Gisele,” she whispered.
Young
Tom nearly spit out a mouthful of Fuzzy Navel. “Now, let me get this straight.
I get to be the greatest quarterback who ever lived and I get to have you as my
girlfriend and all’s I got to do is give you my soul.”
“It’s
that simple,” Gisele said as she placed her hand on Young Tom’s inner thigh.
“But
wait just a second now! How can I be the greatest quarterback ever if I don’t
even get drafted? I’ve seen the scouting reports on me. They all say I’m slow,
lack confidence, and have a physique similar to the Pillsbury Dough Boy.”
With
the blink of an eye, the beautiful Gisele transformed into a disgruntled,
middle-aged man wearing a ragged hoodie. “You let me take care of that.”
Young
Tom jumped to his feet. “Who are you and what did you do with Gisele?”
“The
name’s Bill Belichick, but you can call me Coach from now on. And don’t you
worry about getting drafted.”
“But
even if I’m drafted, how can you assure that I’ll succeed? The NFL is tough.”
“You
see that man on the screen, Kurt Warner? He was bagging goddamn groceries when
he made a deal with me. I only had to promise him one Super Bowl ring. I’m
promising you five. Now, do we have a deal?”
“Oh,
I still don’t know.”
Disgruntled
Bill Belichick switched back to beautiful Gisele. “C’mon Tommy, don’t you want
to play?” She grabbed his buttocks and pulled him in close.
“I
do! I do! Okay, where do I sign?”
“A
kiss will seal the deal.”
Young
Tom leaned in and gave the beautiful Gisele a long, deep kiss. When he finally
pulled away, he found himself staring back at pure evil—into the eyes of Bill
Belichick. “This is going to be fun,” his new coach growled…
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