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Summary
“I’m tellin’ you!” Jamo’s standing on the cushion of his locker’s new theater seat, bouncing on socked toes, waving a half-laced cleat around like he’s directing traffic. “You get a bunch of big guys, maybe even some linebackers—”
“Oh, hell no,” Anzalone interrupts from over by the open-air fridge. He twists the cap off of a bottle of cool blue Gatorade, then flicks it in Jamo’s direction. “Not my circus, not my monkey.”
or: the Detroit Lions have a philosophical debate.
Series
- Part 1 of this must be the place