Another Clinton Debacle

During mini camps before the draft, Clinton whispers into Joe’s ear, “Sean Taylor, Sean Taylor,” so Joe decides to go with Taylor rather than Kellen Winslow Jr., a tight end who may end up in the Hall of Fame in a few years. Taylor doesn’t start the first two games and makes minimal impact. Winslow starts in Cleveland, looks great, but breaks his leg in the second game.

During the first regular season game against the Bucs, Clinton yells at Gibbs, “Fifty Gut, Fifty Gut,” so Joe decides to let Clinton run Fifty Gut several times during the last two drives of the game and the Skins squeak out a victory.

In the second regular season game against the Giants, Clinton fumbles the ball in the first half, but comes out of the game and yells at Gibbs, “Fluke fumble. Fluke fumble. Keep feeding me the ball.” Joe complies and Clinton goes on to fumble again and drops several easy passes. He also gets a taunting penalty on one of the passes he does manage to catch for a touchdown. Joe is starting to regret the relationship he has formed with Clinton.

Extrapolating ahead, it’s now the sixteenth game of the season and the Redskins are 2-13, Joe is at his wit’s end, the fans are in turmoil, and the owner is thinking about selling the team for a measly profit of only two billion dollars. It’s late in the fourth quarter, the Skins have fallen behind by twenty eight and Clinton has fumbled five times but has gained two hundred twenty one yards. Clinton comes off the field on fourth down and heads directly toward Joe. Joe throws up his hands in exasperation and yells at Clinton, “I’m tired of your input. Go sit down on the bench.”

At this point, Clinton can’t believe his ears. He says, “Joe, why are you turning on me. Look at my stats. I’m leading the league in rushing. So what if I also fumbled more than any runner in league history. I can’t do it all. My teammates should have stepped up and recovered those fumbles.”

Joe turns away, throws off his headset and starts walking slowly toward the tunnel. He pulls out his cell phone and speed dials Tony Stewart.

He tells Tony, “Get your butt in gear, I’m coming back.”

Tony says, “But Joe, what about your football gig?”

Joe replies, “Clinton gained too much power and now he’s out of control. I can’t take it anymore”

Tony responds, “Hang in there, bud. Remember, the country survived eight years listening to Clinton’s double talk.”

Joe retorts, “That depends on what the definition of survive is. Anyway, I’m coming back.”

Tony responds, “You know, those Chevy aerodynamics haven’t been as good as the Dodges. I want to switch. And, those soft walls are for sissies. I only want to race where they have the real ones. And, I need an in-car DVD player to occupy my time during cautions. And…

By this time, Joe has already thrown his phone into the stands and disappears into the tunnel.
The next day, an urban legend begins circulating around D.C. concerning a homeless guy who lives on Fourteenth Street and walks in counterclockwise circles while repeating the mantra: “Eight more years, eight more years.”