'Deflategate': Every story has an ending

"Who killed Roger Rabbit?"

"Who Let the Dogs Out?"

Who let the air out?

Who knows what lurks in the mind of Roger Goodell?

Every story has a beginning, middle, and end.

The "Deflategate" story is in the middle right now. Muddle is more appropriate.

Questions keep popping up with no clues. Who deflated the footballs used by the Patriots during the AFC Championship game? Who is responsible? Who will get thrown under the bus? Who will get penalized? How severe should the penalty be? When will the penalty be handed down? Why is Roger Goodell dragging his feet?

One more question, coming from some sportswriters and well known sports bloggers circling the wagons to protect Goodell. They want to stay on his good side. Did the deflated footballs make a difference? According to these scribblers, the Colts would have lost the game if the Patriots never showed up.

One tabloid labeled the NFL, under Goodell's stewardship, the "Nero Fiddles League".

Roger Goodell is once again being ridiculed. By the time this latest imbroglio is over, Goodell will be the first definition of ridicule in the dictionary.

"Deflategate" is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. It is the whodunit of whodunits.

Is it a mystery or a grand conspiracy?

Supposedly there is an investigation with forensics and all. C.S.I. NFL anyone?

Roger Goodell is a good little foot shuffler. That is why the NFL hired him. They like foot shufflers. They want indecisive decision makers to decide which rules were broken, who gets punished, and how severe the punishment should be. The owners want the decision to be made how and when they say it is to be made.

The owners make the rules. They decide if the rules were broken.

Goodell is a good little boy. He sits up straight, with his bespoke shod feet together, hands flat on his desk. He waits patiently to be told what to do.

He is very decisive on little things of no consequence. He wasted no time or breath punishing a player for crotch grabbing after a touch down. Boom, the hammer fell. Twenty grand fine. Football is family entertainment unlike professional wrestling.

When it comes to serious issues like criminal behavior, domestic abuse, child abuse, or the long term affects and catastrophic outcomes of injuries to former players, Roger Goodell wavers. He wobbles. He jiggles. He is gelatinous. He is a man of no substance.

Roger Goodell is a fearful faithful slave. That is one of the reasons the NFL owners hired him. They want good slaves to take the whipping and flogging by the media.

The Super Bowl is coming. It is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for the NFL. The biggest money making game of the year. The owners all stand to get their cut of the league profits.

Don't forget the bookies, sports betting organizations, and Vegas. There is money to be made or lost. Billions of dollars.

A lot is at stake.

Every good story needs an ending. The sportswriters are eagerly waiting to be told how to write the ending of "Deflategate".

The butler did not deflate the footballs. It was not some spurned mistress or gold digging hooker. No one's father, mother, brother, sister, or fifth cousin thrice removed took the air out of those balls. It was not the some long forgotten and ignored illegitimate spawn with a grudge.

Lefty Rosenthal is dead. He could vote in Chicago but dead bookies can't fix games.

Every good story needs an ending.

Here is a probable end to the story.

A day or two or three before the Super Bowl, a decomposing body will be found in the F. Gilbert Hills State Forest, not far from Gillette Stadium.

It will be some lowly locker room schlump. The autopsy will reveal that he was shot cleanly, dead center through the back of the head. A pistol will be by his left hand. A suicide note will be pinned on his body.

The poorly written note will be a confession. It will detail his miserable life working as a lowly bullied, insulted, harassed, beat up locker room schlump. He could not take it anymore. He cracked. He deflated the balls. Then, when he realized the enormity of his act, he decided to end it all.

No one will question the impossibility of cleanly shooting one's self dead center in the back of the head. No one will question a right handed person making an improbable shot with his left hand. No one will question the poorly written note even though the schlump was an English major in college.

Famous forensic pathologists will be paid big bucks to claim it was a suicide and stranger things have happened.

A press conference will be called. Goodell will read from a page of carefully scripted remarks that took a week to prepare. The poor schlump did it. The Patriots, Bill Belicick, and Tom Brady had no prior knowledge. They are not to blame. No harm. No foul. No punishment or penalty is necessary.

The show, er, game must go on.

The Super Bowel will be played. The money will pour in. All who matter will hail and worship Roger Goodell.

Every story has an ending.

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