Good Day Grover Pickers,
I met a talking frog last night.
It was a surprise. I didn’t know Sephora allowed pets inside, but I guess they do.
The Frog never told me his name, which is just as well. All he wanted to talk about was Madonna, the singer, and how iconic she is and what a good dancer she is and how all the surgery and brain damage really hasn’t changed her at all. I already survived 1984 once. I didn’t want to rehash it.
So I asked frog about his favorite football team, but he’s not a football likin’ frog. Instead, he tells me he’s a got friend, an alpaca, who loves talking football and he was next door. Cool! I hot-tailed it out of Sephora. Next door was The Mattress FIRM.
Not only do they allow alpacas into any Mattress FIRM location, this alpaca is the store manager! I propped myself on a queen sized Stearns & Foster. The alpaca chose a Tempur-pedic in California King. We hung out for an hour and talked ball.
The alpaca’s full name is Austobrandabude, but he told me to just call him “G”.
G goes, “Hey, yo, did you realize that starting Thursday (today) we get 61 straight days of football? There is at least one football game every day, NFL or professional amateur, until December 1st.”
I did not know this and indicated such, in English, because G is a talking alpaca.
I said, “G, this is why America is the envy of the world. We identify a stretch of time when nothing else important will happen and we fill those days with football. No elections, no scary holidays, no family holidays, no seasons changing, no baseball playoffs or hockey season or basketball season or WNBA playoffs or NASCAR, or colonizer holidays to think of. Just football.”
“Dude, you are so right,” G agreed.
G is a big Steelers fan, so he was really excited about Thursday night’s game against the Browns on Prime.
“I sold a whole house full of mattresses to Bubby Brister back in the day. Mike Tomlin came in once, but all he did was measure the beds. Never bought one. I think he was just doing Minecraft research,” G explained.
“That Minecraft world he built is legit. He said he started so he could have something to do with his kids, but they moved on and he’s still building. Imagine how good the Browns would be if Deshaun Watson chose Minecraft instead of massages,” I offered.
MIke Tomlin Minecraft City
“Right?!” G exclaimed. “Get this. One time, back in Peru, I was on a ledge in the Andes with my boys and we were hitting the ayahuasca hard that day and I had a vision, really clear, of Aaron Rodgers completing a deep throw. To a Steeler! In a live game. That stuff really gets you in touch with your deepest fantasies.”
I couldn’t argue, or even comment, but I had a question. “Hey, G, when you are in the middle of an ayahuasca trip, does it make it easier or harder to spell ayahuasca?”
“No idea, Commish,” G replied. “I’m a talking alpaca, not a spelling alpaca.” Fair enough.
We moved on. “Commish, you ever been to London?” G asked me.
“Sure. A few times, but just as a tourist. I’ve spent more time in Manchester. I used to be the CFO for Man City, the Premier League team. They paid really, really well, and I think they genuinely appreciated my financial creativity. Great bunch of rich guys. Incredible rags to riches to rags story. Why do you ask?”
“The NFL sent the Colts to London to play the Commanders on Sunday morning. I LOVE Sunday morning games because I don’t have to get out of bed just to get back into bed at one o’clock for kick-off.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “You can get an easy 3rd quarter nap just before lunch and be ready for a second 3rd quarter nap around 2:30. It’s ideal. And the Colts and Commanders certainly won’t keep you up.”
“What do you think about the Jets and Bears,” G asked.
G couldn’t know how critical his reaction to my answer would be to our relationship.
“The Jets are bunch of snot-colored, human hang-nails. Football’s answer to pop-up ads. A bunch of dog-hating, kitten-kicking, losers. They’ve got the brain power of a fire hydrant, the charisma of a sea urchin, and all the sex appeal of a used matchbook. The Jets suck. I’d rather be stranded on a forgotten Pacific island with 33 coke-head telemarketers than spend 3 seconds thinking about the Jets. They stink more than the basement urinal in a Honduran jungle prison.”
G paused to consider my answer. Then, he looked me in the eye. I looked at him, resolute and steady. I said what I said about the Jets. If it meant I was about to be spit on by lunatic talking alpaca, I was ready. I carry hand sanitizer on my person at all times.
Then, slowly, his voice with more roundness in the timbre, G said, “Facts.”
That is the moment G and I became genuine friends, not just retail mattress buddies talking football.
G added, “The Bears are weird, but they only suck in football ways, not like the Jets.”
G then asked if I wanted a Red Bull and we cracked two cans and returned to our respective mattresses.
“I saw the Bucs are starting a rookie QB against the Packers this week because Baker is busted up,” I offered.
“Yeah, that Jalon Daniels is gonna be good. He’s smart. Did you see what he said about the game? He said, “You can’t be a thermometer, you have to be the thermostat.”
“Facts,” I affirmed. “Plus, Green Bay is playing like they are using actual meat packing professionals instead of football dudes. It’s not even entertainingly bad, it’s just bad, bad.”
“Do you know I have three stomachs?”, G asked. “So I can ‘stomach’ a lot of bad football, like Green Bay. But I’m struggling with the Chargers. It’s indigestible football garbage!”
I offered: “They play the Seahawks this week. Seattle isn’t explosive, but they are effective, and the Chargers are the definition of ineffective.”
G submitted: “I read that since 2013, teams with a minus 4 turnover margin are 3-81-1. The three wins, get this, are Bills over the Chargers last week, Jaguars over the Chargers in 2022, and Broncos over the Chargers in 2015.”
“That is institutional dysfunction, which makes a bit of sense. Harbaugh isn’t know for his ability to build high functioning institutions. He’s more of a ‘Khaki success is still success’ guy,” I added.
“Have you ever seen the Hawks play in person,” I inquired.
“Oh, sure. I love Caitlin Clark!”, G answered.
I didn’t have a reaction that was both quick and respectfull, but, thankfully, G randomly changed the subject before I had to reply.
“Deebo Samuel. That’s a really successful guy,” G said.
“How so?” I wondered out loud.
“That dude is back on the Niners. Last week he was credited with 80 receiving yards with ZERO receptions! How cool is that?”
“Is that due to the electrical substation?” I asked.
“Nah, he was the end of a hook and lateral play and scored. So he didn’t catch the ball, but he ran the yards for the TD. Who do the Niners play this week?”
I used three AI search bots to confirm the Niners play the Broncos.
“Brock Purdy is going to be the first Mr. Irrelevant to win MVP,” I offered.
“Facts.” G said.
“You know who else is smart?” G asked. “That Passtronaut dude. The Q-B from one of the U-T’s that also went to the hard classes for some reason and ended up knowing about space and math and physics and stuff. I’ll bet he doesn’t know squat about mattresses though. I got that covered for my ‘bro. I think he’s in Detroit now.”
“He is the backup in Detroit. Plays the Panthers on Sunday night. Did you see he had to explain how headsets work to the coach in Detroit? Hilarious. They ought put Passtronaut in charge of other things Lions coaches struggle with, like pass defense,” I joked.
“Ahhh, a glittery Sunday October night in Charlotte. It’s just like those blissful Sunday fall nights back near Lima, but with 22% less banker fraud,” G reminisced.
I hadn’t applied sunscreen on this day and the late morning sun had shifted on the plate glass windows to a position so my arms were in high melanoma danger. My Red Bull was empty (G was on his 4th Red Bull. Three stomachs must be awesome.) and any minute some shacked-up twenty-somethings were going to bust through the door and distract G from his football talk with a bunch of “I sleep hot, he snores, what kind of box spring works best for my chiropractor?” nonsense.
So I popped out of bed and said, “G, I’m really enjoying this, but we’ve both got other priorities today (I lied to my friend on the first day!). Would you give me some quick thoughts on a few college games that I can use for blog content?”
“Shoot, partner! What you got?” he said.
Me: “4-0 and unranked Pitt versus 4-0 unranked Virginia Tech. First ever matchup between 4-0 unranked power conference teams.”
G: “This indignity would never happen to Big East teams. ESPN hates the ACC, except for UNC v Duke basketball.”
Me: “Notre Dame visits Jordon’s emotional support cheerleading coach.”
G: “My aunt, a beautiful alpaca named Saoirse, always rooted for the Irish. I think Carolina has only beaten Notre Dame once in 23 tries. For Notre Dame, the Tar Heels are just Navy in a different shade of blue. This bores me. Give me an interesting game to discuss.”
Me: “Michigan Wolverines visiting Minnesota Golden Gophers.”
G: “The Little Brown Jug game! Michigan used to have a coach that would smear a player’s blood on his face. Not anymore. Now that’s PJ Fleck’s deal. How do you ever pick against a team with a coach that smears his player’s blood on his own face just to win a little brown jug?”
Me: “Two 4-0 and ranked SEC teams- Alabama versus Mississippi State.”
G: “Oh, yeah! The “It Just Means More” Game of the Week! Either Alabama quarterback Keelon Russell OR Bulldog quarterback Kamario Taylor is going to finish second in the Heisman Trophy race to Gator running back Jaden Baugh. So this should be fun!”
Me: “Navy @ Air Force.”
G: “America.”
Me: “What do you think of this? Florida is at Missouri. The Missouri mascot, Truman the Tiger, got an NIL deal. As soon as Missouri scores its first points in any game, Friskies, the cat food people, will donate 10,000 meals to central Missouri cat shelters. Kinda cool?”
G: “I hear cats taste like chicken, but I never touch the stuff. Gators by a million.”
Me: “Do the Vols have anything left after last weekend to take down Auburn?”
G: “I’m glad you asked about this one. Auburn and Tennessee haven’t played each other in 6 seasons. It chaps my furry butt. This was a cool rivalry for years. How does more money make it less likely for these two to play each other and not more likely? Where’s Sankey? I want to kick that number-crunching polyester parking meter square in his twig and berries. Which may look similar to what the Vols do to the Tigers.
Me: “Virginia thinks they are having a good season. Can they beat Florida State?
G: “The ‘Tha Him Squad 2 Bay Area Jags’, the 8th ranked Pee Wee team in Florida, could beat Florida State. And the Jags may have a bigger payroll. Of course the ‘Hoos will win.”
Me: “There is a new trophy game! Wyoming versus North Dakota State. They play for “The Battle of the Basins” trophy. I think it’s rooted in petroleum extraction from underneath the two states.
G: “Well, good for them. Who cares? That’s a weird game to ask about.”
Me: “Ok, what about Miami at Clemson? Are you a Dabo guy?”
G: “No, I’m not a Dabo guy! I’m from Peru! You know, South America. The U for Life, bro.”
The door bell rang and just as I feared, customers appeared in the Mattress FIRM lobby. I dapped up my newest alpaca friend and walked out. G and I plan to meet for salads in a couple of weeks, after the first playoff polls are announced.
Today was a good lesson about how we should all get off our phones and leave our homes from time to time, even when it’s not to attend a football game. There are real connections to be discovered in this world and, no matter how long you’ve been on this planet, you can still be surprised.
So, go talk to a stranger, or a random animal. That squirrel or the neighbor’s chickens may have something to say.
Just before I got to my car, I noticed the Madonna-loving frog from Sephora. Except now he was wearing a tiny bustier and long black boots, kind of the 1989-era “Like a Prayer” look. Only, and I’m not sure how to put this delicately, it looks like he lost his last game of Frogger to a Chevy Suburban, if you know what I mean.
I hope your team does better than the frog this week.
Happy Picking,
The Commissioner
