Pleasure to meet you, son! Come on in and take a seat. We’re really grateful you agreed to a private workout with us prior to the draft. Pro days are useful to some extent, but when you’re cooking up a meal, you wanna get a REAL close look at the ingredients. Touch ‘em. Feel ‘em. Smell ‘em. I can smell you right now kid, and I have to say: I like what I’m smellin’. But I want more.
[I get up, turn both chair and hat backwards, and then sit back down]
Now, we’re not gonna bother you with trick questions or any of that other psychological mumbo jumbo. We got a whole file on you with that stuff already and, to be honest, I don’t even read those files anyway. There are only a coupla things I gotta know: right here, right now. We talked to your college coaches and teammates and they told us that you got some of that dawg in you. That true?
[You nod]
Kinda dawg we talking here? You got a little bit of that dawg in you? Little, tiny, wiener-dawg kinda dawg? Because any guy can walk in here acting like Big Man Flapjack and tell us he’s got that dawg in him. Then we get him out onto the field all of sudden we’re seeing this little teacup poodle come out and lick his own asscrack! Some players got that dawg in ‘em, but the dog ain’t big enough. Or they only let that dawg out when they’re slobbin’ some knockers, which I suppose is all right. You meet this guy off the field and you say, Well shit, this young man is too nice! He’s softer than a baby’s ass, he is! Then he suits up and CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP WHOA SHIT I DIDN’T SEE THAT DAWG COMIN’! We don’t mind a dawg or two like that on our team, no doubt about it.
Now other guys, they can never keep that dawg on a leash. And that dawg ain’t housebroken, either. He’s pissin’ here and there and everywhere like my daddy after a sixer of Old Style! Markin’ everything as his territory, and not just the A gap. So every prospect we meet now is like Oh yessir, I got that dawg in me, and it’s one of those highly trained soldier dawgs, sir. Well shit, if everyone’s tellin’ me they’re a dawg, then no one’s a dawg! I can’t tell a Doberman from a big fat tabby, and that really corks my hole! So we got a new question for you, and it’s all the ANALytics I need:
Are you a motherfucker?
See, we got a LOT of dawgs in this league. C.J. Stroud? Dawg. Brian Branch? Definitely got that dawg in him. And Roquan Smith? Good lord, that man is a DAWG. Woof woof! Ha! LOVE MY DAWGS, yes I do! Just wanna roll ‘em over and scratch ‘em on the pink!
But a motherfucker? That’s different. A dawg, he’s gonna tear your face off. But a motherfucker? You take one look at that man and you want to rip your OWN face off! You see that man across the line from you and it’s like arson on your soul! Everything in your body says, This isn’t just some dawg I’m up against, this is a MAN. And he’s gonna fuck my mom if I don’t bring both barrels!
You get what I’m talking about? You played for a Power Five school, so I know you’ve seen a motherfucker or two there. Well, those motherfuckers are the motherfuckers who end up running this league. Jalen Carter? Motherfucker. Josh Allen? Motherfucker. And Micah Parsons? STONE COLD motherfucker! Are you that kind of motherfucker? You eat dawg for breakfast? You play with your dick on fire?
Show me. Punch me in the face, right now. FUCKING DO IT. I won’t call the cops, and a stone cold motherfucker wouldn’t care if I did! NOW BREAK MY JAW AND MAKE ME SHIT MY BRITCHES!
[You punch]
THAT ALL YOU GOT? THIS IS THE NFL, SON! YOU BRING THAT WAR HOME AND RIP MY FUCKING HEAD OFF!
[You literally kill me]
See now, that’s what I’m talking about. Now I’m dead, and that’s the surest sign that I’m talking to a true motherfucker. A man. We’re moving you up past Walter Nolen on our board, kid. Don’t make us regret it.
