4 Oct
Philadelphia Eagles head coach Andy Reid visits his allergist the morning of 10/3/11:
DOC: Good morning, Coach! Step right in.
REID (clears throat): Mmm hmm. I parked next to the handicap spot. Locked my keys in the car. Paid my $25 co-pay at the front desk. Time’s yours.
DOC: That’s cute, Coach. Now if you’ll please put the donut on the table there.
REID: And where should I put my breakfast sandwich?
DOC: What sandwich?
(REID reaches into the front of his pants and pulls out a wad of grease-stained paper.)
DOC: Oh…the cheesesteak you had shoved down the front of your pants. You can place that next to the donut.
REID: Tammy doesn’t let me eat these on Monday mornings.
DOC: Let’s move on. Have a seat over here. Now what seems to be the problem?
REID: I’ve been sick for the past three weeks. I know it’s not diet cause I haven’t been on a diet in years.
DOC: Can you name me some symptoms?
REID: (clears throat): Well, there’s Homer…and Marge, Bart…OJ of course…
DOC: Symptoms, Coach. I said symptoms.
REID: Short term memory loss. Poor time management. Blurred vision. Spontaneous idiocy. Lack of any sort of emotion…
DOC: Interesting. I was going to have my assistant come in here and give you some little pricks…
REID: I already have some little pricks. I call them my starting linebackers.
DOC: I mean we were going to conduct a skin test. We expose your skin to potential allergens to determine if you are allergic to them. A small amount of the suspected allergen is introduced into your skin through a small puncture. If, within 15 minutes, you have a small spot of redness and swelling where the allergen was introduced, you are allergic to the substance.
REID (clears throat): Control what you can control and don’t stress out about the other stuff.
ONE HOUR LATER…
DOC: Well, we’ve injected you with every kind of allergen we have here, Coach, and we haven’t seen any bumps or redness.
REID: I didn’t do a good enough job and I’ll make sure I put myself in a better position next time.
DOC: Uh, okay. Listen, just sit here and watch some TV while I determine what the next step is. No, put that donut down. And give me that cheesesteak. Look, they’re showing highlights of your game yesterday with San Francisco. Tough loss. I’m just going to…Coach? Coach Reid?
(REID begins to break out in hives. His face is turning red and blotchy.)
DOC: Oh my God! Nurse! Get in here! Coach Reid! Are you okay?
REID (clears throat): I don’t know what happened. I was watching Ronnie Brown running towards the goal line and I broke into a…that thing that happens when you exercise?
DOC: A sweat?
REID: Yeah. But then Brown pitched the ball back and we fumbled and San Fran recovered and I felt all better.
DOC: My God.
REID: What?
DOC: This is worse than I thought. (DOC takes the TV remote and replays the last play. As Ronnie Brown approaches the end zone, REID breaks out again. But when Brown fumbles and the Eagles lose the ball, REID suddenly brightens and appears healthy.)
DOC: Coach…you’re allergic to the end zone. It all makes sense now. Your sickness the past three weeks. The three losses. The only way you’ve been able to feel better is to call the most absolute moronic offensive plays ever in the history of professional football and make sure the Eagles never got close to the end zone.
REID: I take full responsibility for that.
DOC: Glad you’re feeling better. Now what the hell am I going to prescribe for the millions of Eagles fans out there who are allergic to you?