UNHWildCats
September 12th, 2008, 07:59 PM
By 9:40 a.m., the woman at the main desk of Gillette Stadium had run out of visitor's tags. She reached for a pile of worthless Patriots stock certificates that had been lying around since the late 1960s, cut them into 4 x 3 pieces, and was in the process of making name tags out of them when yet another stranger walked in.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm here for the job opening," said the man.
"There is no job opening," said the lady. "But you probably won't take my word for it. The other 18 didn't. So, if you'll give me your name, I'll direct you to the waiting room."
"Moon," he said. "Warren Moon."
"OK, Moon Warren Moon," said the receptionist, "here's your tag, and the door's right there. Go sit with the others."
"Could you prepare me for when I open that door," he asked. "Who arrived before me?"
She checked her clipboard.
"Gentleman named Don Strock was here at 7:35. Dave Krieg, Hugh Millen, Bob Avellini, and Steve DeBerg weren't far behind," she said.
"You've gotta be kidding me. They think this is the '80s? No competition there. Go on," he said.
"There were two young guys. Brothers, I think. Or maybe cousins.
Detmers, they told me . . ."
"Ty and Koy," said Moon.
"You know them?"
"Every starting quarterback like myself knows the Detmers. They backed up everybody, everywhere. I'm not surprised they've come."
"Mike Phipps, Rich Gannon, Steve Pelluer. They showed up around 9:05. Gary Danielson got here right after them, followed by Vince Evans, Bobby Hebert . . ."
"Bobby Hebert," screamed Moon. "He's almost as old as I am, but he can't move like I still can."
"Doesn't matter, because as I told you, there's no job opening . . ."
"Who else?" he demanded.
"Guy named Babe Laufenberg, Timm Rosenbach, Jay Schroeder, Oliver Luck . . ."
"Oliver Luck?" Moon said with a laugh. "Oliver Luck was my backup in Houston. Ain't no way he's going to get this job over me. When did he get here?"
"Twelve minutes ago," said the receptionist, looking at her watch. "Right before you. No, wait. One other came in after Mr. Luck, but before you. Guy named Frank Reich."
Again, Moon stopped. Only this time he didn't laugh. Instead, he appeared gripped by fear.
"Frank Reich is here? Are you sure?"
The receptionist confirmed it was Reich, and Moon dropped his head and walked toward the door, mumbling something about a playoff game in 1993, a 35-3 lead, and a comeback of epic proportions.
"No desire to go up against Reich again," said Moon. "I'm headed to Tennessee. I heard Vince Young is hurt."
http://www.boston.com/sports/football/patriots/articles/2008/09/12/job_openings_are_usually_classified_info/?page=full
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm here for the job opening," said the man.
"There is no job opening," said the lady. "But you probably won't take my word for it. The other 18 didn't. So, if you'll give me your name, I'll direct you to the waiting room."
"Moon," he said. "Warren Moon."
"OK, Moon Warren Moon," said the receptionist, "here's your tag, and the door's right there. Go sit with the others."
"Could you prepare me for when I open that door," he asked. "Who arrived before me?"
She checked her clipboard.
"Gentleman named Don Strock was here at 7:35. Dave Krieg, Hugh Millen, Bob Avellini, and Steve DeBerg weren't far behind," she said.
"You've gotta be kidding me. They think this is the '80s? No competition there. Go on," he said.
"There were two young guys. Brothers, I think. Or maybe cousins.
Detmers, they told me . . ."
"Ty and Koy," said Moon.
"You know them?"
"Every starting quarterback like myself knows the Detmers. They backed up everybody, everywhere. I'm not surprised they've come."
"Mike Phipps, Rich Gannon, Steve Pelluer. They showed up around 9:05. Gary Danielson got here right after them, followed by Vince Evans, Bobby Hebert . . ."
"Bobby Hebert," screamed Moon. "He's almost as old as I am, but he can't move like I still can."
"Doesn't matter, because as I told you, there's no job opening . . ."
"Who else?" he demanded.
"Guy named Babe Laufenberg, Timm Rosenbach, Jay Schroeder, Oliver Luck . . ."
"Oliver Luck?" Moon said with a laugh. "Oliver Luck was my backup in Houston. Ain't no way he's going to get this job over me. When did he get here?"
"Twelve minutes ago," said the receptionist, looking at her watch. "Right before you. No, wait. One other came in after Mr. Luck, but before you. Guy named Frank Reich."
Again, Moon stopped. Only this time he didn't laugh. Instead, he appeared gripped by fear.
"Frank Reich is here? Are you sure?"
The receptionist confirmed it was Reich, and Moon dropped his head and walked toward the door, mumbling something about a playoff game in 1993, a 35-3 lead, and a comeback of epic proportions.
"No desire to go up against Reich again," said Moon. "I'm headed to Tennessee. I heard Vince Young is hurt."
http://www.boston.com/sports/football/patriots/articles/2008/09/12/job_openings_are_usually_classified_info/?page=full