by jezzer » January 16th, 2013, 1:18 pm
On the other hand, the upcoming Roger Goodell (Commissioner of the NFL) interview - covering player concussions - will be far more contrite....
The Setting: Oprah's studio. The commissioner sits with his legs spread wide, doing small preparatory man-sniffs under his boyish mop of straw-colored hair. The crowd is restive, tense. Oprah is reverse-reverse-passive-aggressively wearing a Bears jersey.
The Apology: "I can't listen to the games anymore.
"I can watch. As rough as it is, the sight of it — all those collisions, all those head-first hits — isn't what turns my stomach. It's the sound of it, Oprah. It's the crunch and the crack and the kthunk that does me in. I hear that, and sure, I know we've got it miked up, we're raising those levels in the truck, giving the people what they want … but I can't help it, I think about how the damage being done to their bodies, the damage being done to their brains. And I just can't stand it. I want to escape.
"Because we knew. Sure we did. We knew all along. I mean, it's not rocket science. You drive a truck full-on into someone's head, their wires are gonna get crossed, and the only real difference between Joey Porter and a truck is that a truck won't insult your mom while you're lying there trying to get your breath back. Of course we knew. We made a pros-and-cons list. The 'cons' side read, 'Damaging the brains of potentially thousands of young men.' The 'pros' side was just a list of Pacific Islands we could buy with our annual revenue. Some of them had such beautiful names, Oprah. Olapu. Say it to yourself. O-la-pu. Two billion, maybe two-two. It's magical.
"There was one — I'll never forget this — called Monulahuaho. I've never been there, never even seen it. But it just sounds so tranquil. Stress is a problem for everybody these days, you know? I picture a narrow strip of sand, blue waves, jungle mountains, a peach-colored light over everything. You could forget a lot of things in that peach light, Oprah. A lot of mistakes might just disappear. The private plane I fly around in has seats made out of baby swans. Cygnet-skin seats! Can you imagine? It feels like sitting on a cloud, if you could kill and skin a cloud, Oprah. Which you can't; we've tried. That model of the jet never made it off the drawing board. It was a good effort. The boys in R&D earned their bonuses that year for sure. But it can't be done.
"Still, Oprah. When I think about all the harm this game has caused, and the fact that we still don't provide health care for players who've been retired for more than five years even though we barely understand the long-term consequences that playing football can have for your health … well, gosh. I feel such shame. I just want to apologize to all the fans and to everyone who's ever played the game. But more than anything, I want to crush the players' union so that I can finally buy Monulahuaho. Then I'll slip into one of those cygnet-skin seats, fly off into the sunset, and vanish into that peach light. I want to lie on the beach and evaporate, just go up in smoke. You can make anything disappear with money, Oprah, even the things you had to do to get it. I only did what America wanted. I deserve to be numb, Oprah. I have so much power. I deserve to feel so numb."
Oprah's Verdict: "Roger, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to call a personal foul on that one."
Six Months Later: Everything is the same, only perfect.