There is this doctor for the Seattle Seahawks, and he’s really handsome. And nice. Like actually nice despite the fact that he drives a nice car. And has great hair, cut quite sharply. And his wife is pretty, and his kids are perfect, and I hate him.
I used to make him coffee as part of my work-release program where I built a coffee shop and made mostly non-ex-felons lattes, which I don’t like. Lattes taste like steamed milk – which is what “latte” means in Italian, minus the steamed part. I have nothing against milk; I just don’t want to drink 16 ounces of it at slightly above room temperature.
This doctor was always polite and nice to the staff and me, which he technically didn’t have to be based on his status within our society. Meaning, he possesses an advanced degree, a doctor job at the University of Washington that probably pays $250,000, a second doctor job with the Seahawks that probably pays $250,000, and a wife with a doctor job that probably pays $300,000. So, with roughly $46,000 a month flowing through his household (after taxes), he is definitely in the upper caste and thus had every right to tout his superiority, mock my fellow low-wage food service workers and me (although there are many risks to that act, which we can discuss later), tell us to clean his windshield, then occasionally get weirdly vulnerable and confess how miserable he is based on how he actually wanted to be a painter. Still, his dad said, “No.”
But he didn’t do any of that, because he’s a nice person.
I’m not sure how one gets any of the ancillary jobs available in the NFL like team physician, team masseuse, team psychic, team mindset coach, large non-specific team bird mascot (a.k.a. Blitz), small, particular actual team bird that flies to the trainer right before the game starts (it’s an Augur hawk – native to North Africa – named “Taima”), and so forth. Generally acting cool and nonplussed helps – that’s this doctor’s baseline personality. Come to think of it, another guy who did naturopathic space medicine, I mean sports medicine, for the Seahawks, is also super chill, or so I hear. No, wait, he worked for the Mariners, never mind.
So this never-to-be-named but non-fictional doctor showed up on TV a lot during a game, mostly just looking cool and nice and rich on the sidelines but occasionally tending to on-field injuries. The worst of which was Ricardo Lockette’s horrific injury in 2016 during a kickoff return in Dallas that could have killed him if not for this doctor, the other trainers, and medics on the field (according to Ricardo). This is why combined with all of the other research showing up from studying NFL injuries; I am hesitant to let my son play football. And why (to my understanding) lacrosse is growing in popularity. Although I know tons of people who played football in high school, they are all fine as far as I know…but I can’t help but wonder if the NFL really is the Not For Long League.
But that’s not the point. The point is this doctor is a good person all around, bolstered by the fact that he helps injured players. Further buttressed by the juicier, this-is-my-claim-to-fame fact that he let me wear his official Seahawks Super Bowl ring (doctors get one too) from their triumph over Denver in 2014. Which, you may not know, was the last official Super Bowl in recorded history and all future space-time. That’s it, the Seahawks won. They’re number one, forever. Nothing else matters.
It weighed about nine pounds and had at least one emerald, which is my favorite priceless gem in case you’re looking to surprise me with a gift soon. It made my hands look flaccid and weak. It made me realize why I didn’t go pro myself (weak hands, fear of getting killed by gigantic men, propensity to call timeouts for snacks). But it was great. Unfortunately, after five minutes, the good doctor wanted it back. After boisterous protests and the baristas wrestling me to the ground and prying it off my finger despite my girlish screaming, I gave it back.
Oh, the other reason this doctor is so great is he didn’t press charges. And he says Marshawn Lynch is genuinely cool, which isn’t hard to believe.
The lesson here is that the Seattle Seahawks are so good even their doctors are nice, and they are officially the last and final and best Super Bowl Champions of all time, and I wore that ring. Also, the other teams who’ve won championships since 2014 are comprised of mean phonies. Additionally, I hope helmet technology continues to improve, so the players are safe, this doctor doesn’t have to work as much when he’s at a game, and my son can play football.
By the way, last week, my source said the Hawks were interested in hiring me as Team Motivational Speaker After a Super Bowl Loss. Which basically consists of me revising history, which I’m obviously good at. It turned out to be true; I actually wept as I signed my dream contract last Friday. Then I vomited when I was instantly traded to Atlanta in preparation for a Julio Jones trade. Oh well, maybe he could help Seattle earn that next ring.
