“Doctor, your new patient has arrived.”
“Please show him in.”
The new therapy patient enters the office and immediately makes for the couch and lays down.
“Good morning, Mr. … Little, is it?”
“That’s right.”
“Your first name is…Chicken.”
“Don’t get me started.”
“The message you left said you needed to talk to someone because you believe the sky is falling?”
“That’s right.”
“And I see you’re wearing one of those foam Cheeseheads. Am I to deduce that you’re a Packers fan?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay, let’s start at the beginning. Why are you running around your neighborhood yelling at the top of your lungs that the sky is falling?”
“Are you kidding me? Did you even watch the game? Did you see the rookie receiver, the kid we traded up with the Vikings to snatch? Did you see him drop an easy 75-yard bomb from Rodgers on the first freaking play of the game?”
“Umm…”
“Did you not see the Packers’ defense completely ignore the second coming of Randy Moss? You got your shutdown corner, Jaire Alexander, back in there. He’s been lobbying all week to shadow Justin Jefferson. But did the Packers put stud on stud? No, they did not. They played a stupid soft zone. I mean, they had Preston Smith lined up against him on one play. What the hell’s going on around here?”
“Mr. Little. May I call you Chicken?”
“Sure, everybody else does. Try going through life with the name Chicken, by the way.”
“I’m actually surprised you didn’t come to see me years ago. Listen Chicken, it’s one football game. Remember what happened to your team in the first game last year? This is the Vikings we’re talking about. That was their Super Bowl. Wait, no. If it was their Super Bowl, they would’ve lost. Regardless. They’ll go into Philly and fall flat on their faces next Monday night.”
“I don’t care about the Vikings! I know their fans live in a Purple haze until the team ultimately breaks their heart. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Our HOF quarterback, who may just be playing his last season, can’t trust anyone he’s throwing to. Except maybe the older guys like Randall Cobb and Sammy Watkins. But they couldn’t even get open. Our head coach decided to use his best skill player Aaron Jones as a freakin’ decoy! Eight touches? C’mon man! We have no idea if David Bakhtiari will ever play again, we lost two inside linebackers to injury, and our safeties looked like they had never played the game before. The sky IS falling!”
“Chicken, please calm down. You’re shedding feathers faster than Jefferson shed defenders on Sunday…oh crap, sorry. Look, your Packers will bounce back. They always seem to do that after a bad loss. No one is saying Bakhtiari won’t be back soon. Same goes for Jenkins and Lazard. Your linebackers avoided major injuries. LaFleur acknowledged he needs to get Jones and Dillon more involved. And your defense is too proud and talented not to figure things out. Take a deep breath. They got embarrassed in the opener last year and still got the No. 1 seed in the NFC.”
“You really don’t think the sky is falling?”
“I know it’s not. And here’s one more thing. You guys play the Chicago Bears next. At Lambeau Field. On Sunday night.”
“Wait. We got the Bears this week?”
Chicken closes his eyes, exhales deeply, smiles, and lays an egg. The doctor figures he’ll never be back.
