So Long Lynn Dickey, Hello Aaron Rogers

To celebrate the fact that the Green Bay Packers have become sports #1 market item, at least this year (after all, the poll was taken when #4 was still a member and the Pack was 13-3), I have decided to honor the occasion by once and for all putting the Lynn Dickey story to rest. While some of you will be mightily relieved and others have yet to hear the stirring tale of how I was responsible for his football career, it's being mothballed like the USS Missouri, USS Wisconsin and the rest of the fleet.
However, that does not mean you are off the hook with stories connectong me to Packers quarterbacks...not by a long stretch. I have a new one, though this one is not quite as personal in nature.
Last week, Packers fans everywhere cringed as Aaron Rogers first, threw an interception and second, threw his previously-injured shoulder as well as the rest of his body at the interceptee (?), forestalling for a brief moment the ensuing touchdown. Pundits threw out more opinions about whether or not this was a wise move than James Carville and his wife must bandy about political jibes at dinner. Some say it proved his toughness; some say it proved that he wasn't very smart; some say that he was just trying to impress Jessica Simpson (OK< that's only me that said that). I, however, was catapulted immediately back to lunchtime "Go Long Football" at Algoma High School.
My job was to organize and supervise activities, but I always played all-time quarterback on Thursdays, as much to have some fun with a sport I'd never played competitively as to insure that every kid who chose to play got at least one pass thrown his or her way. Noted for a quick release and rocket-like arm (so says the press release I meant to issue), the games were always high-scoring affairs, and my completion rate was stratospheric. Had it not been for Jeremy, my career would have been unbloodied, if not unblemished.
As it happened, I threw an interception one day to Jeremy Piesler. As he ran down the sideline of the bleachers, I was determined not to allow the ignominy of having him score on the play. Lightning quick (also in the press release), I sprinted to the endline to await his arrival, unaware of the volleyball net that lay in tangles just out of bounds (who the hell is responsible for that stuff anyway?). At something approaching warp speed, my foot contacted the volleyball net as I attempted to stop. Arms flailing, I plunged headlong into a steel door jamb...right, definitely NOT GOOD! A hushed silence fell over the crowd...and somewhere, a woman screamed...no, not really, that was from a book I once read. I did, however, lie mostly comatose for the better part of an eternity, raising my head to a blurry world of red as blood coursed from my head onto the floor.
Some clear-thinking student asked if I was OK, obviously oblivious to the Red Sea of blood accumulating on the hardwood (fortunately, out of bounds). Ron Knoebel sped to the rescue, and I was whisked by helicopter (also in the press release) to the emergency medical facility known as the Weisse Clinic of Serious Head Injuries.
I recall there was a movement to hospitalize me for a month or so in order to check for serious brain trauma, but, in the end, the crack medical team decided that it would be hard to tell whether or not any damage had been done until I made a rational decision or two. So...it was back to class, head swathed in 400 yards of gauze, kept together by 50 staples or so.
Funny, though, nobody from the press lauded my toughness or questioned my sanity for making that play. I guess they are all waiting for the uneditied version coming out in my tell-all autobiography which is due just before Christmas. I'll be signing copies at the Packers Hall of Fame in late December.