News Item: Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie said last week the demotion of former general manager Howie Roseman was not a reflection on Roseman's abilities as a player personnel evaluator. "I just think Chip [Kelly] wanted his own football player personnel guy next to him at all times," Lurie said. "It was much more Chip's requirement to have sort of a football guy that he was comfortable with in terms of helping him day to day, minute by minute."
Football Guy awoke exactly on time and leaped from bed, landing on the artificial turf rug in a perfect three-point stance. His feet were precisely shoulder-width apart, and his knees were bent at such an angle that his rear end was low and his balance was perfect. He invited Ms. Football Guy to attempt to knock him over, but she was unsuccessful despite trying very hard, almost too hard, Football Guy thought.
The alarm that woke him at 4:45 a.m. was the report of an Acme Thunderer whistle, the model preferred by NFL officials. Football Guy downloaded the recording for his phone and replaced the previous alarm, "Celestial Wind Chimes." That would never do.
In the kitchen, Football Guy prepared a high-protein breakfast in order to begin the day with energy. He cooked three strips of bacon and poached four eggs. Not that long ago, Football Guy had been a four strips-three eggs Guy, but he had since studied the formation and became convinced that three strips-four eggs was the way of the future. It was a more demanding breakfast and, particularly, required the eggs to be very versatile - sometimes poached, sometimes fried, sometimes scrambled - but anyone can fry bacon. It takes a Football Guy to see the greater possibilities.
Ms. Football Guy came into the kitchen wearing a coat and holding a set of car keys. It seemed like an obvious play, but it could be a fake. Football Guy waited.
She said, "I'm going . . ." Football Guy interrupted her by forming a 'T' with his hands and then putting his fingers into his ears. Ms. Football Guy sighed loudly, left the room, and returned with a set of placards. She held up one with a picture of an automobile and another with a picture of a hamburger. She put down the placards and signaled quickly by raising both hands in front of her as if driving, then covered her right ear with one hand, then spun her purse around her elbow. She finished with a one-finger signal that Football Guy did not recognize, but assumed had been added in the event anyone was trying to steal the signs.
Football Guy tapped the side of his head once. He understood. She was going to the supermarket, and, if he needed anything, he should call her. Just as he was about to offer a high-five, he heard the front door slam.
After breakfast, Football Guy sprinted to the driveway, got into his car, and began to drive to the gym for his daily workout routine, height and weight check, and whirlpool session. Driving in the center lane of the freeway, Football Guy saw the red Kia ahead of him signal for a lane change to the right. That would open up the lane and allow Football Guy to break into a clearing between other traffic, if that was the proper read.
He had other options, of course. He could wait to see if another car, perhaps the black Toyota in the left lane, decided to fill that gap first. Football Guy wanted to make only a single lane change - he prided himself on being a downhill, one-cut driver - so the Toyota would be his key. Sure enough, the black car slid in to the open center lane. Football Guy moved to his left and was in the clear.
Later that afternoon, following his workout, the children returned from school, and that meant it was time for Home Combine. The children screamed and cried, but Football Guy knew that was just their way of expressing excitement. In the street, Football Guy set up the cones for the 40-yard dash and the 20-yard shuttle drill. The times for the two boys were acceptable - there had been a 2 percent improvement since the previous semester - but Emily's performance was off and getting worse.
"You'll never get drafted like this. Scouts want to see real dedication," Football Guy said.
"Dad, I'm 6 years old," Emily wailed.
"Nevertheless," he said, and blew the whistle that hung on the lanyard around his neck. "One more time."
That evening, after the children had done their homework, studied their playbooks, and gone to bed, it was time for film study. Ms. Football Guy had chosen That Awkward Moment, captained by someone named Zac Efron. Football Guy timed it at 94 minutes, but was not impressed for the most part. Efron had gone to Southern Cal, a nice program, but was 5-foot-8 and 165 pounds. He really didn't have a natural position, although in the film he seemed fond of prone.
Football Guy decided to have a protein shake and go to bed. Tomorrow was another Football Day. There would be a 3-4 breakfast, the gym, and then it would be bench-press time at Home Combine (the children's favorite, to judge by their excitement).
It isn't easy being Football Guy. In fact, it's a full-time job. Being Football Guy is worth it, though. Otherwise, you're just a normal guy.