Warren Sapp filed for bankruptcy earlier this year, but he says he lost his Super Bowl ring from the 2002 season. When he showed up for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers 10 year Super Bowl reunion last Sunday, he was wearing the ring. He says he found the ring in time for the reunion. Turns out the thing was under the cushions in his couch the whole time, along with the remote.
HOW IT REALLY WENT DOWN:
Stenciled on the door: Salvatore Manila, Attorney at Law.
Warren Sapp and his posse of four push through.
"Hello Mr. Sapp," says Debbie. I'll tell Sal..."
"I got this." Sapp opens the door. "He said to come over. So here I am." He laughs, high fiving his posse.
Debbie looks in. "Mr. Manila, it's Mr. Sapp..."
"Sal, got your message." Big grin.
Mr. Sapp and his posse wear their best; Armani, Florsheim, Fubu, Hilfiger, Rolex.
Sal stands, and waves his hand in the air. "Hey guys...Debbie?..."
"I'll get more chairs," she says. She smiles, and points to the chairs in the other room. The posse brings in the chairs.
"Gentlemen," says Sal. "Glad you could all come."
They look around at the mahogany walls, desk, the cabinets.
"Nice," says one of the posse. "Ooooo," says the rest, and flop down in the cushioned chairs.
"Okay Sal," says Sapp. He giggles, looks around, and crosses his feet on the mahogany desk.
"What's this all about? Get a panicky call from my lawyer. I gotta change my schedule, you know."
"You got a lot of debts, Warren. About the bankruptcy. We gotta talk."
"I owed people money? I know that. There was the bankruptcy." He looks around, big smile. "You're the one supposed to pay all my bills for me."
"Hey," says a posse. "Drinks? I'm feeling thirsty. Got any Gin and Juice?"
Debbie is at the door. "I'll see what I can do?"
"Okay, bottom line. You Warren, you made $82,185,056 in your NFL career. You now have $826.04 in your bank account."
"Sal, you said I was lookin' at $6 million in the bank." He puts his head back, and talks to the ceiling. "Chump change for me." He giggles. "But still, Sal, that's what you said."
His posse, laugh, but squirm a little in their seats.
"Hey, you're not alone," says Sal. "A 2009 Sports Illustrated study found that 78 percent of NFL players are bankrupt two years after they retire. And fifty percent of the NBA five years after leaving the league, broke. Can you believe?"
"Warren," says a Posse. "Should've invested in gold, not gold diggers." Big giggles. Sapp furrows his brow.
"Hard to feel sorry for someone gets his Bentley repossessed, Warren, come on," says Sal.
"Sal, you're supposed to be my friend. Didn't we already do the bankruptcy stuff."
"Warren, you went through $82 million." says Sal. "But it's about the ring."
One of the posse raises his hand. "Man got robbed by bad investments, bling bling, balling, getting robbed by whitie collar guys. That's the truth."
"Got that right," says Sapp.
"Look," say Sal. "Iron Mike blew $400 million on mansions, cars, tattoos, jewelry and Siberian tigers. Bad investments usually a big part."
"You know I got expenses," says Sapp. "Two kids with Jamiko. And, well, four other kids with four different ladies along the way."
"I got it here," says Sal. "$75,495 a month in alimony and child support."
One posse mumbles, "NFL stand for NEED TO F*** THE LADY'S."
"Oooooo," the others say in unison, laughing. They point at Sapp. He smiles, and shakes his head.
"Bankruptcy judge called me." says Sal. "Your Super Bowl ring was not one of the items on your list. You gotta give it up. It worth quite a bit of money. They'll want you to sell it."
"Sell my Super Bowl ring. No way in hell. My ring? I can't, Sal."
"But you got no choice. They know you got it. Hell, everybody knows you got it."
"I'll say I sold it. Sold it to...some dude. I ain't got it no more. That's what I'll say. Why not. What they going to say. I'm a lair?"
"If that's what happened, you sold it, then they'll want the money you got. Pay back some of your debts."
"You're my lawyer. What do I do? Nobody's gettin' my ring. Nobody."
"Look, Warren, I can't tell you to lie, but...I can give you a ...hypothetical. You lost it, could happen, but for something as valuable as your Super Bowl ring? Might be a hard story to sell."
"I can believe it," says a posse. "Remember, the Bentley, we had to get it out of impound? You forgot where you left it. Four in the morning that time?"
"See," he laughs. "I got a reputation for losing stuff. They'll believe it. So, I lost it...at a bar, somewhere?"
"Maybe we can think up some other place..."says Sal. "If you really lost it."
"Sal, it'll work, come on, it's me. They'll believe me. I was on Dancing with the Stars. People believe Celebrities."
"Warren," says a posse. "We was watchin' Sports Center, eatin' Doritos, you know, and we maybe lost it in the couch? Under the cushions, you know. All kinds a stuff gets lost in the couch."
"And I found the TV remote in there too. That'll work." Sapp puts both hands in the air. "Why not?"
"But," says Sal. "Not saying that won't work. But...I can't tell you what to say, but...hypothetically..." He rubs his forehead. "This is about as believable as Andrew Bynum saying he hurt his knee bowling."
"Relax, Sal," says Sapp. "I gotta go to the ten year Buccaneer reunion. I can't go without my ring. Miracles of miracles. I found it."
Sapp looks at his posse. He jumps up. "Thanks Sal. I got it. I couldn't never give up my ring. It's sacred. It was in the couch with the remote. Crazy, huh?"
"Warren," says Sal. "Maybe I can make some kind of deal with the bankruptcy court, and you can buy back the ring, so you won't have to...Misrepresent...?"
"Misrepresent? No way, Sal. I represent." Sapp jumps up. "Right guys? We'll go with I lost it in the couch. Could happen. I like it." Sapp and Sal bump fists. "Okay, guys, I think we all need to buy us a couple of pairs of new shoes...after lunch, of course. Whadya say?"
As the whole bunch, giggling like hell, pile out of the office.
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