The Christmas season is all about a little give-and-take. “An eye for an eye,” as George Costanza would say. That’s what holiday spirit is all about. In that respect, and in honor of the holiday season, we’re going to do a little not-so-secret Santa thing. The higher ups here in the blogosphere have given me a modest budget to buy gifts for some of our favorite athletes and coaches here at “So, do you like...stuff?” But, in return, they have to get me something that I want, which is the most important part of this little deal. So, after a few phone calls, emails, and blackmailed photos of a compromised Drew Rosenhaus, we managed to set this whole thing up. (By the way, it’s more interesting if you picture all of us wearing Santa hats, sitting around a tree and sipping on some Grey Goose punch, which is exactly how this all went down.)
His list: One “get out of jail free” card. No, wait…make that two.
Says I: I think I could manage a PBA card for ya’, Chris. But it doesn’t usually work if you’re throwing up on the cop’s shoes as you hand it to him. Just a word of advice.
My wish list from Chris: Your keys. And Odell’s.
His list: A time machine that goes back to March of 2005, at which point I can re-sign with the Colts.
Says I: Oooh, geez Edge, I mean, time machines are kind of costly these days. Maybe you could build one with the millions you got from the Cardinals. How ‘bout I get you an offensive line instead? Good? Good.
My wish list from Edge: My fantasy football season back. Save a spot for me in that time machine.
His list: A one-way ticket out of Boston
Says I: Are you serious? Are you pulling my chain? You better not be pulling my chain, or else I’m gonna be pissed. Every year you ask for this, only to change your list on Christmas Eve to something like, the latest edition of “Scarface” on DVD. You’d better not be messing around…
My wish list from Manny: Your one-way ticket out of Boston.
His list: A new last name.
Says I: No problem! How about, “Eli Testaverde?” No, wait! “Eli Leaf!” Sounds Scandinavian, yes?
My wish list from Eli: Grow a pair of you-know-whats, slap around Burress and Shockey for a good hour and a half, let ‘em know who’s boss, and then go out there and try and complete a freakin’ pass without looking as if your puppy just got run over before the coin toss.
His list: To finally be accepted as a New York Yankee.
Says I: Ughh, A-Rod. Another one of your strangely intangible lists again. Remember back in 2001, when you asked for “peace of mind?” What the hell? You want to be accepted as a Yankee? Try asking for .330/51/142, with a .999 fielding percentage, and a playoff appearance that doesn’t have you looking like a $252 million deer in headlights. And why don’t you stop talking for a while, champ.
My wish list from A-Rod: Socks. I don’t trust you to come through with anything big.
His list: A clue.
Says I: What, you don’t want another shoot-first point guard? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha…sigh.
My wish list from Isiah: Besides like, you leaving? How about a home win? Or, better yet, a home game that simply doesn’t end in World War III? Is that too much to ask?
His list: Three milkshakes, a super sized No. 3 value meal, a dozen donuts, a regular No. 3 value meal, and a diet Pepsi.
Says I: What’s that, breakfast? You’ll get nothing and like it!
My wish list from Eddy: You don’t need to buy me anything – I know you’re strapped for cash. Wink, wink. Just give me the treadmill that’s gathering dust in your basement. I have a “Spring Lake 5” to train for.
His list: I’ll have what Eddy’s having.
Says I: Okay, instead of that, how about an oversized, official NY Jets hooded sweatshirt that will cover up those jello jigglers as you’re roaming the sidelines?
My wish list from Coach Mangini: Call Bill Belichick your bitch. Ya’ know, for fun.
Paul Lo Duca
His list: The over on the Ohio State/Florida game, with $100 action points.
Says I: Uh, do you really need ME for that? Have you ever heard of the Internet, Paul?
My wish list from Paul: Some insider advice on the 2007 Kentucky Derby.
His list: Another chance, at the 2010 Olympics.
Says I: What the…Bode Miller? How the heck did YOU get in here? Nobody’s heard from you in the past 11 months.
Says Bode: I heard there was gonna be Grey Goose punch.
Says I: Paulie, get this guy outta here, will ya’?
His list: My reputation as a good guy back.
Says I: Too late. Your arrogant surliness has rubbed too many people the wrong way. I think you’ve been hanging around LaRussa for too long. But I’ll tell you what – how about some B12? Just kidding! I’m kidding, right? I’ll get you a sweater.
My wish list from Albert: Your birth certificate. Twenty-six my ass.
His list: To be home with my family. Wait, no! Sixteen million dollars.
Says I: Good call. Being home with your family is soooo 2004, am I right? But, you already got your 16 mil. You can’t fool me, Andy Pettitte. I’ll get you a gift certificate for a nice romantic dinner for two at Ruth’s Chris. Just you and Roger.
My wish list from Andy: Put down the ‘roids, get your act together, and try not to blow this.
His list: To win the Super Bowl, retire, and then parlay my good looks and intellect into my very own talk show, where I will interview important political people. And also do paternity tests.
Says I: Everything except the Super Bowl is inevitable anyway, so I don’t really have to do anything there. But you should start working on your portfolio, so I’ll get you a dope tie. And some body oil.
My wish list for Tiki: That Super Bowl thing would be real nice, so maybe you could shut up for like two seconds, and stop undermining your coach long enough to make it there. Oh, and winning a game would help, too.
His list: An extra 500 g’s annually, and three more scholarships. Then, watch the magic happen.
Says I: Anything for you, Greg! The world is yours! Well, New Jersey is yours, and that’s a start. Who wants Staten Island anyway, am I right?
My wish list for Coach Schiano: A Texas Bowl victory, and more chances to watch great, local college football for years to come. Also, maybe you’d be interested in coaching the basketball team? Hmmm?