Good evening and welcome to the third Pittsburgh edition of 500 Words Before Bedtime. Tonight…tonight I’m tired. Mom’s in bed after an extremely rough day. I got cocky and tried to extend our “going down to dinner” streak to two, but that only lasted about fifteen minutes. Luckily, her fridge is stocked with Jell-O, though, so we made out ok. I’m also getting lots of practice adjusting the giant recliner chair juuuuust right.
But man am I tired. I’m exhausted. I’m trying to type while also feeling like my eyes might fall out of my head.
But you know, this is what 500 Words is all about. This is what you train for! Where you dig deep, find that inner warrior, play one game at a time, give 110%, and — can you tell I’ve been watching nonstop local Steelers coverage? Who knew a football coach quitting his job was an international event of cosmic importance and seismic impact? Who knew how many Pittsburgh-area reporters could be marshaled to interview said coach’s players and ex-players and ex-girlfriends and ex-cocker spaniels to gauge their reaction?
The answer is me. *I know,* and it’s armies. The reactions range from “shocked,” to “not shocked,” to “somewhere between shocked and not shocked.” These revelations are delivered breathlessly by men in sculpted hair standing outside an abandoned Acrisure stadium in a sleet storm.
Everyone, they add, wishes Coach well.
I wish him well. I wish him an excellent time! Now, please, Coach, go spend some quality time with your family and get off my TV.
Because, 300-some words into 500 Words Before Bedtime, I have to get off my computer.
I dug deep. I warrior-ed up, but at the end of the day, this was all I had. I ran out of gas. Left it all out there and came up empty. It’s a game of inches, doncha know, and here I am in the red zone, fourth and goal, and I just can’t push it over the goal line. Not gonna break the plane. In fact, I think this whole thing constitutes a false start that’ll knock me clear out of field goal range.
We’ll try this again tomorrow. I’ll either write about that Metallica concert Jamie and Nathan have requested (that was all Anton’s fault), or something beautiful that happened this morning. We’ll see. Depends on my mood.
Don’t worry, though. I’m not throwing in the towel or hanging up my cleats yet. I don’t think I could handle all the interviews.
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