Sports Authority



{I have no idea where this story came from. I opened a word-count application yesterday to make sure my wasp story had 89 words, and this thing was sitting there on the program. I have no - let me repeat ZERO memory of writing it. Did I even write it? Did I hear it? Is it a made-up story, or something that actually happened. And if it did happen, did it happen to me, or someone else. This kind of crazy adventure does happen to me (who can forget the Ancient Law Of The McMuffin, a 100% true story?), but I really don't ever talk this way. Or spell this way! It remains a mystery. I hope you enjoy it anyway. -H}








I walk into Sports Authority, and right up to the man with the name tag.

I like a man with a name tag.

Sez to me, I've shown you mine, now show me yours.

The name tag sez Chet.

Well not so much sez Chet as reads Chet.

Actually that isn't right either.





I read the word on the name tag, to myself, mind you. I don't need to be readin' out loud unless it be one of them four-dollar words you get down at City Hall or a lawyer's office or the last 12 ingredients on a can of peanut-butter Spam.

So I sez - out loud and everything - so I sez to Chet I sez, Is this Sports Authority?

Chet sez to me he sez, Did you see the sign when you came in?

I sez to Chet I sez, Yes I did.

Chet sez to me, Did it say 'Gerta's House of Girthy Girdles and other Fabulous Foundational Filler'?

I sez to Chet, No it did not. As a matter a fact it didn't say anything.

Chet sez to me, You sure about that, Capt'n?

(I'm not actually a Captain, but I have been thinking of starting my own military and Commissioning myself as a Captain in that military. How did Chet know? Score one for him.)

So I sez to Chet, I sez, it didn't say anything because signs don't generally talk, unless you got one of them fancy talkin' signs you see in the big city. But there were some words and those words were Sports Authority.

Chet sez to me, Well there you go, Capt'n. He half turns as if his job is done. What he don't know is that I played him like a box o' Fiddle-Faddle, and now I show him hooze the CrackerJack.

I sez to Chet, I sez, I don't think you quite took my meaning. I wasn't arguing what you called yourself. Fact is, Anyone can wear a sign sayin' - uh, that reads (I could see him about to use my thing that I used on him on me) - anything. Take you fr'example. Your name might not even be Chet. Your name could be Todd or Pet or D.B. McSweeney - wearin' that Chet sign don't make it so.

Chet looks at me, fresh respect in his eyes. He sez to me, You might right got a point there, Capt'n. We could call ourselves Sports Authority but be selling those frilly unmentionables I unmentioned earlier.

Yes, I sez to Chet. That's right.

Chet smiles at me. The smile of a shark. Chet sez to me, Look around you, Capt'n. Do you see all the brassiers, and the underpanties, and the stretchy spanky stockings?

No, I sez to Chet. No, I do not.

What do you see? Chet asks me, setting me up for the spike.

I sez to Chet, I sez, Oh, I see some tennis rackets over there, and some volley balls in that bin, and some skis over there and...

Chet cuts me off and sez, Would you call that Sporting Equipment, Capt'n?

Yes I would, I sez to Chet. I would indeed.

Chet gives me a look, a look like, Okay finally we got that settled.
But Chet shoulda known. THIS Capt'n ate his Crunchberries this mornin'.

I sez to him, I sez, Chet, I'm afraid you still don't take my meaning. I have no doubt this business is called Sports Authority, and you do indeed sell a whole bunch'a merchandise related to sports. But you'll pardon me for sayin' so - that don't make you an Authority on Sports, if you follow me.

Chet smiles, but it never touches his eyes. He knows it's back on now, like a twice rain-delayed baseball game they're trying to get in so they don't have to play a double-header tomorrow.

Chet sez to me, You want to test me, Capt'n? Fire away.





you can't play a player, Chet

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