F--k This. I’m Gonna Be A Cop.

Okay, guys. Let me run down the injuries for you. Westy tweaked his knee, but he’ll be re-evaluated tomorrow. Dawkins is fine. Sheppard is fine. Donovan plans on practicing all week. He should be good to go. We’ll update you on everything on Thursday. As for the Bears loss, it’s just one of those things. Sometimes things like that happen and you just have to…

(buries head in hands)

Ugh. Look I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. Every week, I come in and give you assholes the same vague answers to all your same stupid questions. Aren’t you tired of this shit? I am. Jesus, it’s just the same thing over and over and over again. And it’s not like it’s any better around here if we win. Shit, even when we win, 90% of the fans just want to talk about why we’re gonna fucking lose the next week.

Honestly, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit. I do my best. I really do. And sometimes, we end up having a nice season. Other times, things get fucked up and we have a lousy season. It happens like that. Don’t you people fucking get that?

I don’t need this. I sleep on a goddamn cot five days a week. I watch 80 hours of videotape a week, only 5% of which is hardcore pornography. All the videotape plays are just blending together at this point. And it’s fucking TAPE. Lurie’s too cheap to digitize this place. I still have to use a goddamn overhead projector in meetings. I barely see my kids, and now everyone’s calling me a shitty dad just because I tried to work hard to make them proud.

I’ve had enough of this shit. Fuck it. I’m gonna be a cop.

I’ve always wanted to be a cop. I know I’m an okay coach, but this mustache was fucking made for police work. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to pull some 17-year-old shoplifter over and give him a cold taste of justice. If he’s wearing an Eagles hat, then all the better. I like winning football games, but that can’t even compare to taking out some juvenile delinquent’s knees with a nightstick. BAM! Finally, coach gets to do a little hitting of his own.

You know what I’d really love to do? Go on a stakeout. God, that just sounds like the best. It’s just you and your partner (I named my imaginary partner Bobby O’Neill), hanging out in an unmarked Ford Taurus at 3AM, drinking some coffee and munching on bear claws. That would be fantastic. We could have really deep conversations about life, and how our wives don’t understand “the job”, and shit like that. And we could rip on each other too. I could be like, “Nice shirt, O’Neill, you metrosexual assbag.” And he’d be like, “Fuck you, you fat lazy shit.” I can’t get that kind of camaraderie with Mornhinweg. He’s an idiot.

I wouldn’t even have to go out in the field. I could be the dispatcher. I’d be a great police dispatcher. Look at me. Don’t I just look gruff? I could get all bossy on the radio. “Attention all units! We have a 187 in progress! We need backup! NOW!” And if any beat officer gave me lip, I could throw it right back in his face. “Don’t tell me you’re 15 blocks away, McSorley! DO YOUR JOB!”

Cool.

I could wear one of those Sipowicz shirts, too. You know, the button down short sleeve shirt? I hear they’re really breathable. Looks great with a tie. You wear one of those shirts and munch on a bran muffin, and no one’s gonna fuck with you. That’s some major league respect.

I’d love to put a suspect in the box. Just grill the shit out of him. Threaten him with bodily harm until he cries out his confession. And if he tries to “lawyer up”, then I could really start to turn the screws on him. Or I could bring in Bobby to finish the job on him. Good ol’ Bobby. He’s not afraid to bend some rules in the name of the law.

If I could be a cop, then I could finally get my family back. My kids would respect me. And citizens wouldn’t complain about how I do my job, because I’d have a gun on me. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to carry a gun on the sidelines. Maybe Donovan would hurry the fuck up at the end of the game for once.

You know what? I’m gonna do it.

Screw you guys. I’m joining the force. Next time you see me, I’ll be in my Ray-Bans. You better watch your ass.