No More Dress Rehearsals, No More Make Believe
Having gotten my reps down in four preseason games, I thought I was cruisin'. The regular season was just going to be an extension of what I've already done. And then one of the many helpful people who now surround me tell me that preseason doesn't really count, that this is my big night. (Maybe he's confusing me with Al Saunders and Gregg Williams, huh?) What I've been doing so far is New Haven. This time, it's Broadway! Gaaaaaccckkk!
This fills me anew with fear. I'm not worried that I'll be under a microscope, like Katie Couric. For one thing, I never wear white after Labor Day. For another, none of my photos are airbrushed. I am the same fat, bald dope in every shot that I am in real life. (Although, like Katie, I do have great legs.)
Nor do I worry that my coworkers are out to get me, unlike Rosie O'Donnell on "The View." There's nothing but endless love in our booth. And the occasional drunken, lost fan who's only one-third as scary as Star Jones used to be.
What frightens me is that some Web site will have breaking news on an obscure thing I did long ago that I might have preferred to not mention publicly, like Anderson Cooper having interned at the CIA during college. (Because I misread the recruitment flyer, I ended up at the Culinary Institute of America. The good news is I can cook like nobody's business. The bad news is my whisk is a lethal weapon.) I think I might skate on that score, though, because Junior probably long ago put that episode in a book.
I'm pretty sure I'm okay on some of the worst things I've done, like that time I drove the entire Beltway naked. (Make a note of this: Just because "What, you're kidding??? I'm not wearing pants ???? " worked with the officer who stopped me, that doesn't mean you won't end up with pixilated privates on "COPS.")
Of course, there is the little matter of my past use of human growth hormone. But I'm pretty sure the only person I told about that is Jon Jansen, so that secret should be safe.
In any case, I'm very happy that the game is in Washington, which is my home, so I don't have to go on the road -- though considering what 90,000 people in cars do to the Beltway, I might have to leave for the stadium at dawn. And I'm even happier that the game starts at 7, so I know I can stay up through the end. Heck, I might even be alert. That would be the upset of the night.