A Ring Wrapped In Mystery

Yuri: Yes.

Kraft: No.

Yuri: Yes.

Kraft: Okay, yes already.

And that's how Kraft happened to make a gift to Russia of a ring that had priceless personal meaning. Putin has put the ring in the Kremlin library, where other foreign gifts are traditionally kept. It's a generous gesture, by one of the nicer men in football. But you wonder if he's had any pangs of remorse. It's safe to say that ring's not coming back, now that it's a museum piece. It's sort of like when those East Berlin youths would accidentally hit the ball over the Wall. You aren't getting the ball back. So you'd better go get another one.

If Kraft does miss his ring, there is one person he could call. The ultimate arbiter and world conciliator, Tom Cruise. He would know what to do. Because Tom knows everything.

Kraft: Tom, I gave him my ring. My Super Bowl ring.

Cruise: I'm a Scientologist, Bob. It's like this: We don't believe in Super Bowl rings.

Kraft: But it was real. I felt it. It was five carats, and had 124 diamonds.

Cruise: You don't know what you're talking about, Bob. Have you done the reading? I have.

Kraft: I just don't know if I can bear the idea of my Super Bowl ring sitting on a shelf in Russia for all time.

Cruise: There is no Russia, Bob. I don't believe in Russia either.

Kraft: No Russia?

Cruise: Trust me on this. I know about these things. You don't.

Kraft: I'm going crazy here.

Cruise: Bob, look me in the eye. There is no such thing as psychiatry. I'm a Scientologist, and we don't believe in that. There's only one thing to do about this situation.

Kraft: One thing?

Cruise: That's right, Bob. Now, here's what I want you to do. Put your arms around me. That's right. Hug it out, Bob. Hug it out.