The Bears offense waited in the meeting room impatiently as Aaron Kromer, Offensive Coordinator for the Chicago Bears, asked them to convene for five minutes, apparently in a very sobering manner. When their offensive leader entered the room, he’d looked like his grandmother just passed, or his favorite Golden Girl suffered a heart attack (pick your favorite old lady tragedy). Glum, dark, sagged, melancholic.
Kromer spoke with a quivering voice, “Well, guys. I have to tell you something.” He panned his chin up, and held the tears in his eyes for another moment to retain a shred of his dignity. He couldn’t cry in front of head-banging, shoulder-slamming, gigantic men.
“After nearly two years of dealing with Jay Cutler’s nonsensical throws, poor decision making, shrugs, shoulder jerks, jerk face face, annoying Waddle & Silvy interviews with upward inflections at the end of sentences, copious amounts of non-information information, and diabetes, I hit a breaking point.”
Jay Cutler sat in the corner of the room playing Minecraft on his iPhone, half listening per his usual disposition toward the “boss.” He looked up when he heard diabetes since he thought it was a public relations opportunity.
Jay said, “What was that?” Jerk face intact.
Kromer continued, “Jay, and everyone, I breached our circle of trust, the same circle of trust that Jack Burns had with Greg Focker, until Greg really screwed up. I’m Greg here. I love Pam. Pam is Coach Trestman, or as Jay calls him ‘Tress.’ By the way, Jay, that really bothers me. Can’t you call any of us ‘coach’ or are you so self-entitled with your new contract?”
Brandon Marshall spoke up, “Coach, do you mind if I take a minute to talk about my story? My camp and charity? I love my wife.”
By simply putting up his hand, Kromer stopped Brandon from continuing and said, “Listen, I’m trying to say that the knee you took last week in the back is nothing compared to the knife I stabbed this team with…I am the source.”
“You’re putting all the blame on yourself? Good I was worried the guillotine was falling on my stretched neck,” Mel Tucker said when he peaked his head in for a moment. He immediately left when he saw tears streaming down Kromer’s cheeks. Oh man, he’s taking the fall! I’m off the hook and taking a “promotion” in Wisconsin! Tucker thought.
“Jay, I told them that the organization had buyer’s remorse because you’re leading the league in turnovers, and basically are an overpaid grown child who needs his toys or he cries.” Kromer said, tears are gushing away at this point. “And dammit, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for saying that. Because we’re a family! And I broke that trust. I never will do it again, I swear.”
At this point, the entire offensive line is crying along with their emotional leader. They start hugging each other, saying “Family! Family! I love you, man!” A revelation overcame them all – they have grown together, and are ready to take the next steps as a family. Joy to the world!
Kromer, looking for any sort of affirmation from Jay or his buddy Brandon, walks back and sees a bunch of smiley faces in the mentally unstable receiver’s notebook for crazies. Glancing up and seeing Jay take a moment from his Minecraft, Kromer smiles. Trestman barges in to hear Jay’s response, as if divine intervention brought him to realize the magic power of forgiveness and reconciliation burgeoning in the room…
Jay looks up, shoulder twitches, and says, “Whatever.” The shoulder twitch caused him to drop his phone, cracking the scream, and leaving the quarterback with his own tears to deal with.