This is a true story.
I saved Boomer Esiason’s life tonight.
Yes, that’s right, the beloved former left handed NFL quarterback, winner of the Most Valuable Player (MVP) award in 1988 and the Walter Payton Man of the Year award in 1995, sportscaster and co-star of the NFL Today on CBS, that Boomer Esiason. The same Boomer Esiason who took the Cincinnati Bengals to the super bowl after the 1988 season.
And although I like the guy, I’ve never even been that big of a fan. I mean, I’m from Wisconsin, the geographic center of the football universe, where when cut we bleed not blood but green and gold cheese. Why would a Packers fan give a rip about some left handed AFC quarterback from Cincinnati? Don Majkoswki, Brett Favre, Aaron Rodgers – Hell, even Anthony Dilweg would make more sense than Boomer Esiason.
Yet there I found him tonight, laid out on my living room floor, helpless, about to be ripped to shreds. Without thinking, without hesitation I leaped into the jaws of death and pulled Boomer out, saving him and his plus twelve on a roll of seven on a short pass guessed right by the defense.
My wife and I had just sat down to dinner when she pointed to the living room and said something to the effect of “Look! Good God! That carnivorous monster is about to rip that innocent man to shreds!”
“I must save him!” I cried, leaping into action.
“No, it’s too dangerous!”
“Never mind danger! I laugh at danger! Ha ha ha!”
(The above may or may not be an exact transcript of our dialogue, but covers the general gist)
I jumped off of my chair and hurtled myself at the deadly beast, reached straight into his jaws and pulled the body out to safety. Then, using my amazing telepathic ability to control both predator and prey, I was able to calm the hulking menace of a beast down from his frenzied fury. Turning my attention to the body I had just saved from certain disembowelment, I realized time was of the essence.
“He’s not breathing,” I said. “I’ll have to do mouth to mouth.”
“What are you talking about?” my wife said, “It’s a card. It doesn’t even have a mouth.”
A card? “But it’s Boomer Esiason,” I said.
“That may be. You must have left the doors open on your bookcase again.”
“Yeah, where you store your old Strat-o-Matic sets. Tucker must have gotten into them.”
I’ve been a strat-o-matic sports game fan since I was a kid, and have several seasons of the football, baseball and basketball games stored in plastic bins behind closed doors at the bottom of my book shelf in my office. So it was that I saved Boomer Esiason’s 1989 Strat-O-Matic football card from the clutches of our five month old English Shepherd puppy, Tucker.
So, technically, it wasn’t really Boomer Esiason. So I let my imagination run away with me. At least I saved the card from becoming a puppy chew toy, and I saved the 1989 Cincinnati Bengals from having to rely on some guy named Erik Wilhelm as their only quarterback
So you can call me hero. You can call me courageous. You can call me nerd.
Just don’t read too much into my attempt to perform mouth to mouth on Boomer Esiason.