Ian Anderson 6 p.m., March 7
Exeunt Turner, stage left
An excerpt from The Tragedy of Turner, now playing in San Diego
Turner lifts the helmet of QB Philip Rivers and considers it.
Alas, poor Philip! I coached him, Horatio: a fellow of
infinite grins, of most excellent passes: he hath led me
to victory a thousand times; and now, how abhorred
in my imagination it is! My headset sparks at it. Here flung
those bombs that I called for I know not how oft. Where
be your wins now? Your touchdowns? Your runs? Your
many interceptions, that were wont to set Qualcomm on
a roar? Not one now, to toot your own winning? Quite
ball-dropping? Now get you to the Spanos boardroom, and tell
him, let him hire Belichek, San Diego will never win;
make him smile at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.
What's that, ex-coach?
Dost thou think Montana looked o' this fashion late-career?
And stank so? pah! Puts down the helmet.
E'en so, ex-coach.
To what poor rankings we may descend, Horatio! Why may not fantasy football trace the champion’s rings of Montana, till it find them for sale on eBay?