Well This appears to be completed...please grade for 2x rookie bonus
Feel free to ask a question!
...Eventually you spot the right hallway and, while still muttering to yourself about the concierge's heavily accented and nonsensical directions, you head towards it and take a sharp right. Yup this is it. Your emailed invitation wasn't lying. In front of you, a sign. This sign, otherwise described as a piece of cardboard attached to a yellow "caution wet floor" cone, informs you in marker that you've reached the "Honky Tonk Haywood Media Event." Apparently right inside the steam room, within the St. Somewhere Spa at the Margaritaville Island Hotel, sits a soon-to-be professional athlete addressing the world. Or at least most of Sevier County, Tennessee.
With your hat tucked low over your head - god forbid you are somehow discovered by your journalist colleagues as such an event - you walk over to the steam room and, very hesitantly, push the door open.
A flood of steam overtakes your vision and extreme heat hits, forcing you to confront your decision of opting to stay fully clothed instead of changing into a towel.
Before you can see him, you hear him.
"Drop those dangol' nachos off right there, con-see-yarg, and then head back and grab your ol boy a margar-eet from the bar. Extra salt on that fella. I'm sweatin off my draft stock in this sucker..."
But then unfortunately...you DO see him. Sitting in nothing but a black cowboy hat and boots, and a hand towel over his midsection...
"OH HOTDAMN, you one a dem reporter-fellas? HA. Told my agent you'd come. Well come on in son take a seat. Whatchu wanna know about this guitar pickin, quarterback wranglin, margar-eet drinkin sonofabiscuit?"
You immediately regret replying affirmatively to this....event...
Finally, after stammering through an introduction, you decide to forge ahead and just get this over with. In your most professional voice you ask:
A few silent moments pass. Honky Tonk's smile shrinks, a frown taking it's place. Briefly you consider running out of the room, but you're just too damn sweaty for that kind of activity. Then, suddenly, Haywood burts into a laugh, his belly shaking, nacho crumbs falling to the floor.
"HOO-WEEE, straight for the jugular, huh? Haha I like it. Those are the types of spicy questions I like...reminds me of that damn margar-eet I shoulda had by now tho...but a damn fine way to start an interview. You know I always liked your work...whatdja say your name was again?
Anyways...all those bar room antics man, it don't amount to a hill of beans now, see. Back when I was a youth I was just stickin up for some good people. Media twisted that all about. In that bowl game though? Yeah I rekon I coulda expressed myself a bit differently if I had my druthers. That Auburn quarterback tho, man he had it coming. He was preening and showboating all over the damn place the first half. That whole team was mouthier than all hell. But they was blowin up a storm, ya see? Too big for their britches. They got me all fired up. Might could'a held back on the celebration when all was said and done, but man they was madder than all hell after I smashed that air guitar Haha. Quite a sight.
But truthfully I think I just about got that out of my system, if the creek don't rise that is. I'm just excited to strap on a helmet again and go to war with some brothers. I've proven I've got talent, and now I'm ready to get to work. Right after I get my spa day in at least, right partner? hahaaa."
Tickle my fancy? Ok now you're talkin my language, chief. Must've had some a that Tennessee tap water since you got here. Well I'll tell ya this - can't never could, yaunderstand me? I've had a few chats with a few teams, from Portland to Minnesota, London, down to Tijuana. They all look pretty as a peach to me. And that's coming from a man that bleeds Volunteer orange, white, and smokey. I always said if I can't put down in a 3-point stance in Tennessee, then I'll trade that Orange for a bucket of Green. Hahaaaa. The green means money, son. Now that I think about it I 'spose Tijauana got some great tequila...now where is my damn drink!?
Feel free to ask a question!
...Eventually you spot the right hallway and, while still muttering to yourself about the concierge's heavily accented and nonsensical directions, you head towards it and take a sharp right. Yup this is it. Your emailed invitation wasn't lying. In front of you, a sign. This sign, otherwise described as a piece of cardboard attached to a yellow "caution wet floor" cone, informs you in marker that you've reached the "Honky Tonk Haywood Media Event." Apparently right inside the steam room, within the St. Somewhere Spa at the Margaritaville Island Hotel, sits a soon-to-be professional athlete addressing the world. Or at least most of Sevier County, Tennessee.
With your hat tucked low over your head - god forbid you are somehow discovered by your journalist colleagues as such an event - you walk over to the steam room and, very hesitantly, push the door open.
A flood of steam overtakes your vision and extreme heat hits, forcing you to confront your decision of opting to stay fully clothed instead of changing into a towel.
Before you can see him, you hear him.
"Drop those dangol' nachos off right there, con-see-yarg, and then head back and grab your ol boy a margar-eet from the bar. Extra salt on that fella. I'm sweatin off my draft stock in this sucker..."
But then unfortunately...you DO see him. Sitting in nothing but a black cowboy hat and boots, and a hand towel over his midsection...
"OH HOTDAMN, you one a dem reporter-fellas? HA. Told my agent you'd come. Well come on in son take a seat. Whatchu wanna know about this guitar pickin, quarterback wranglin, margar-eet drinkin sonofabiscuit?"
You immediately regret replying affirmatively to this....event...
Finally, after stammering through an introduction, you decide to forge ahead and just get this over with. In your most professional voice you ask:
(07-29-2020, 11:00 AM)Maglubiyet Wrote:Mr. Haywood, you’ve been involved in numerous altercations both on and off the field during your high school and collegiate careers. Do you feel as though you’ve grown from these experiences, and despite your obvious talent, should DSFL teams be concerned that you will be a liability?
A few silent moments pass. Honky Tonk's smile shrinks, a frown taking it's place. Briefly you consider running out of the room, but you're just too damn sweaty for that kind of activity. Then, suddenly, Haywood burts into a laugh, his belly shaking, nacho crumbs falling to the floor.
"HOO-WEEE, straight for the jugular, huh? Haha I like it. Those are the types of spicy questions I like...reminds me of that damn margar-eet I shoulda had by now tho...but a damn fine way to start an interview. You know I always liked your work...whatdja say your name was again?
Anyways...all those bar room antics man, it don't amount to a hill of beans now, see. Back when I was a youth I was just stickin up for some good people. Media twisted that all about. In that bowl game though? Yeah I rekon I coulda expressed myself a bit differently if I had my druthers. That Auburn quarterback tho, man he had it coming. He was preening and showboating all over the damn place the first half. That whole team was mouthier than all hell. But they was blowin up a storm, ya see? Too big for their britches. They got me all fired up. Might could'a held back on the celebration when all was said and done, but man they was madder than all hell after I smashed that air guitar Haha. Quite a sight.
But truthfully I think I just about got that out of my system, if the creek don't rise that is. I'm just excited to strap on a helmet again and go to war with some brothers. I've proven I've got talent, and now I'm ready to get to work. Right after I get my spa day in at least, right partner? hahaaa."
(07-29-2020, 02:16 PM)LimJahey Wrote:Are there any DSFL teams that tickle your fancy?
Tickle my fancy? Ok now you're talkin my language, chief. Must've had some a that Tennessee tap water since you got here. Well I'll tell ya this - can't never could, yaunderstand me? I've had a few chats with a few teams, from Portland to Minnesota, London, down to Tijuana. They all look pretty as a peach to me. And that's coming from a man that bleeds Volunteer orange, white, and smokey. I always said if I can't put down in a 3-point stance in Tennessee, then I'll trade that Orange for a bucket of Green. Hahaaaa. The green means money, son. Now that I think about it I 'spose Tijauana got some great tequila...now where is my damn drink!?
![[Image: haywoodsig.png]](https://i.ibb.co/jWrrj2B/haywoodsig.png)