Saturday, February 11, 2012

THE REHAB OF PEYTON MANNING

"Hey, Woody. Guess who?"

"Well, as I live and breath, Peyton Manning.  This is a surprise."

"Had to go through that newspaper of yours, Valley Post Picayune? to get your number."

"Hey, I've been reading about you."  I laugh.

"Been up here, a facility in Thousand Oaks, doing my rehab.  Place is mobbed.  Maybe a thousand people watching."

"Thanks for the invite. I do a sports column, remember?"

"Don't worry, Woody. I got something a whole lot better.  I'm flying out later.  Where should we meet?  I got a surprise for you."

"A surprise, well, sure," I say.  "How about the Montana Galley. Ventura Blvd, near Laurel Canyon."

"Woody, I'm sorry I haven't called more.  I'll never forget that last high school game. You said, You got the potential, so just follow your instincts, and don't fumble the ball. Remember?"

"Long time ago."

"I think about those word before every game, I really do.  So I'll be there in a couple of hours."

"I'll be here."  Wow. Peyton Manning.


A couple of hours later, coming in the back door, I introduce Peyton to Helena, the owner of the Montana Galley.  

She walks out of the kitchen, a big smile and long blond braids.

He stops and bows.  "And so young to be the owner."

"If you're hungry, we make a dynamite, Waffle, Peanut Butter, Jelly, topped with Lobster.  Lots of protein."  She stands back.  "You're a big guy. You'll love it."

She looks at me.  ""Two Lob-Awffles coming up. Not the most appetizing name, but guaranteed delish."  She takes us back to the round booth way in the back. 

As we sit, he says,  "Woody, you've always been good to me in your columns over the years. Ever since High School.   And ...well...I have a proposition for you.  But you can't write about it.  It's off the record."

"But Peyton?."

He taps the table.

"Okay, off the record." I say.  I take a deep breath and nod. 

"There are a few people in my life that I remember.  You're one of them.  You encouraged me in high school, and wrote about me.  We were about the same age. Now I can pay you back."

"Okay," I say. 

"I'm buying the Houston Texans."

Silence.

"NFL?  Football?  And I want you to be one of the owners."
 
"Hold on," I say.  "Can you do that?"  I look at him.  "Will they allow you to play against a team you own?   Wait, what're you saying?" 

"A young reporter.  You saw my potential.  Just those word have shaped my career.  Simple things. Come on. You'll be on the letterhead.  Half a percent of the Gross.  An NFL team." 

"But...wait a minute.  How will you find time to own...?"

He looks down.  He fingers his spoon.

"So, you're not going to play anymore?"

    "It''s all drama, Woody.  All this rehab. It's for the fans.  I've had three neck surgeries, and I might need more.  I can't throw more than 30 years, and the spin it just isn't there anymore.  Trainers tell me rehab will take time.  But...I'm looking at what?  More hits, and more concussions.  That's my future."

He fiddles more with the spoon. 

"I'm done playing football, Woody.  New chapter.  Time to move on.  I've thought about it. It's time."

"It's a life changing decision."  I say.

"I'll probably announce in May or June.  Then start negotiating for the Texans.  Don't tell anybody.  The price will go up."

Then he says, "It'll cost too much for the Colts to trade me.  And who's going to pay my salary?   No, it's time."

I look at him.  He smiles back. Then I shake my head. "Maybe you can practice you left handed shovel pass.  That might work."

His eyes twinkle.  "Or talk the Colts into bringing back T-Formation.  Every play will just be a hand off.  Draft a big offensive line."

We both laugh. 

"So, how much money do I need?"

He looks at his iPhone.  "Oh boy, I forgot. I'm supposed to do this radio interview.  I promised."

He looks around the room. "Think anybody'll mind?  I'll put it on speaker.  I've done thousands of these.  Smile and talk."

I look around, nobody notices us.

"KRUD radio 98.6.  Sweetwater Montgomery here with Sports Talk 98.6. We've got Peyton Manning on the line.

"I'm going to ask him the questions we all want to know.  Where will he be playing next season? Can he still pass the ball?  They're saying his arm is a wet noodle?

"Peyton, thanks for coming on. Let me ask you this, to begin with, will you ever play another game in the NFL?  That's the buzz.  Numerous neck surgeries, some are saying there's no snap on your passes anymore?"

"Good to talk to you,  Sweetwater. I don't know.  I'm still rehabbing."  Peyton's face is red.

"I can't believe I'm really talking to a legend," says Sweetwater.  "It's the real  Peyton Manning. But the Super Bowl, you think you'll ever be there again?" 

"I'm just waiting to see how the months play out. I'll continue to rehab...".

"Hold on, Peyton...Sorry...but we have a call coming from Joe Flacco...can you hold on?"

"Sure Sweetwater, I'll be here."  Then to me.  "Part of the job. My image with the fans. Insanity."

Helena arrives with two PJ Lobsters.  She slides in while we dig in.

"This is good," says Peyton. "Really."

"How about we call it the Peyton Manning Lobster Waffles?" she says

"I'd be honored, Helena." 

She squeezes his arm and smiles over at me. 

"My own waffle, peanut butter...upps,"  His iPhone beeps. 

"Hello, Sweetwater?...wait...Hold on Sweetwater, I've got a call coming in from...my agent."

"It's a text."  He reads to us in the booth. "Will you do a Metamucil commercial?  You know the constipation stuff...Two million, buy out, they have unlimited use?  We'll talk later."  He looks up. "Metamucil commercials. I'm already out to pasture."

"Peyton," says Sweetwater. "I have to apologize but we have another call coming in from Cam Newton, of the Panthers, so..."

"These interviews.I must do twenty...oh, hello again, Sweetwater?"

"Thanks Cam...Okay. You still there Peyton?  We have Doctor Huntsville. He had the same kind of surgery you did."

"That's right,"  says the good doctor. "After over 10 years of rigorous rehab in the gym, there has been no improvement in my nerve and related muscle strength."

"Well, Sweetwater, that is certainly good news.  Thanks a lot Doc."

"Peyton, thanks.  Are you coming for the Chili Cook Off in Loxley.  You'll be here for that, right?"

"All depends on my re... "

"Out of time. Thanks Peyton.  This is Sweetwater Montgomery, and we'll be right back."

Peyton began to laugh.  All three of us laugh.  Then we stop, and stare at our empty dishes.

"Yes, playing is over, but I'm not over."  He looks up.  "We're going to be football owners." And slaps the table. "I know you're in.  Half a percentage of an NFL Team.  I'll send you the paperwork. My gift to you, Woody."

We walk to the back door.  We all hug. 

"Okay. Gotta go.  I rented a pick up truck.  Be easier to keep those kids from TMZ off my back.  They follow me everywhere.  So, thanks Helena, for naming a dish after me, and Woody. Thanks for everything."

And off he goes toward LAX and back to Indy.

We wave. 

"Thanks Peyton," I say.  

"Being an NFL owner? That's a good thing,  Right?"

I look at her, and put my arm around her shoulder.  "Yes, Helena.  That's a real good thing."

--------
*Help comes from:

The Washington Post/ Peyton Manning
Google, Wikipedia
CBSSports/Handicapping
Yahoo Sports/Fan's Take
Nisqually Valley News/Seahawks
readabilityformulas,com

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