There are no interceptions in Heaven.

gunslinger

The nurse pushed Brett Favre to his usual spot by the window, and locked the wheels of his chair. She pulled a soft blanket over his legs, gave a kind whisper before leaving: “Have a good day, Gunslinger.” Brett responded with a slow, trembling nod.

The day crawled by. Shadows cast by the card tables and IV hangers lengthened and rotated slowly around the off-white room. Brett watched the street through the window, the movements of the outside world scored by rattling coughs and the tinny voice of the television.

In the evening, his nurse returned with pudding. Brett ate slightly more than half the cup, dribbled none. “That’s my Mississippi Miracle,” the nurse said, and patted his stubbly cheek. Brett’s hands stirred in his lap. “Look, he’s celebrating,” the nurse said, and all the staff within earshot stopped their work to watch.

Quaking and slow, but with the conviction of a bridge rising to abide a passing ship, Brett’s arms lifted to the sky. He clenched his spotted fists. “Touchdown!”

Brett’s voice was thin and soft.

pick six

prestige 2

so i says…
“So I says to Bubba Franks, I says…”

Manuary: The Endgame

The culmination of over a month’s worth of growth and countless hours of discussion and debate has come and gone.
The end of Manuary actually came in Manbruary… and what a site to behold.

On a Friday afternoon surrounded by chicken wings and corn dogs, tater tots and beer, the men of NORTH let it all hang out (O.K. well not “it all,” but you know what I mean).

With enough amassed facial hair to make Teen Wolf jealous, the entrants shed all dignity and strutted their stuff for a panel of judges.

After a seemingly unending seclusion in the pod, our illustrious judges emerged with a decision that would leave one man victorious and the others to wallow in their failure to be “the man.”

Congratulations to Ian for his spot-on Abe Lincoln.

To the others… how does it feel to beaten by an intern?

Manuary: Abe Lincoln
The Abe