All Saints Play

Coach Doc "Fumble" Pitts was one of the last people to enter the locker room before the door was slammed shut. As a collegiate player, Doc Pitts recovered an incredible number of fumbles and this earned him the nickname of "Fumble." Usually, any reference to the word fumble has a negative connotation. This wasn't the case with Doc. ""Fumble" was a nickname he was proud of. With hustle and a lot of hard work and a little bit of luck, he earned this nickname. He was a great coach. He bewailed, "I have never experienced anything like this during my entire thirty year career of coaching football. During the past eight hours, we have somehow lost all three of our quarterbacks. We all know that a football game cannot be played without a quarterback. Who in the sam hill is going to play quarterback for us? What are we going to do? God only knows who is going to play quarterback for us." A man wearing a crisp clean Saints' uniform with the number "7" on it appeared from around a nearby locker and walked boldly towards the center of the room and announced clearly, "Coach Pitts, I just heard what you said. As you can see, I am holding a football in my hands and my name is De Lord. J.C. De Lord. He proceeded to announce emphatically, "I will be your quarterback in the second half of today's game." Not unexpectedly, Pitts bellowed, "Who the hell are you and how did you get into our locker room and where did you get that uniform? It almost looks like one of ours." Sam "Way Too Big" Sprigs, a second-string offensive tackle, jumped up from a nearby bench and demanded, "Let me throw this crazy SOB out into the hallway or better yet, I''ll escort him to the closest parking lot and rearrange his body parts." J.C. stood there in a brazen and confident manner. "Please, wait one moment! I truly understand that most of you will find this difficult to believe, but I'm here to help you win the Super Bowl. Face the facts! Your team does not have a quarterback for the remainder of this game. You lost three quarterbacks today! I have been preparing for this day for a long time. Without me, the Saints don't stand a chance of being competitive. I'm the only one in the universe who can help you win this game!" Sprigs pleaded, "I could take care of this in just a couple of minutes." J.C. replied assuredly, "Please listen! God is not going to let you do that to me." It seemed like everyone in the locker room was discussing the situation. Rocky, the fullback, blurted, "I don't know what's going on here, but I think we should hear him out." Virtually all of the chatter and noise subsided and every one turned their attention to the head coach. Coach Pitts, in an extremely exasperated manner cried, "I really don't have the time for this kind of horse hockey! Who are you?" J.C. explained, "As I already told you , my name is J.C. De Lord. And, as you can see, I have a Saints uniform with my name on it." J.C. turned around and it was clear to Coach Pitts that the name on the back of the uniform was "J.C. De Lord." J.C. added, "I have a football and I have a uniform . And, I am ready to play some football." Coach Pitts demanded, "What in the sam hill do you know about football?" J.C. smiled sardonically, "Coach Pitts, you might as well say I created the pigskin. I know everything I need to know and I'll prove it to you!" One of the players had left his helmet near the water cooler, about a hundred feet from where J.C. was standing. J.C. announced, "See that helmet over there!" J.C. using his right arm, nonchalantly raised the football up near his chin, spun around towards the water cooler and whipped a perfect pass which wedged itself into a small opening in the helmet. The helmet moved about an inch up against the wall and remained motionless as the football remained embedded in the helmet. Pitts, who had been standing, sat down abruptly in total amazement and queried, "Mr. De Lord, where did you play football? Obviously, you've played football somewhere." J.C. responded, "I'm like George Washington, I really cannot tell a lie. I have never played football before." In a split second, J.C. picked up another football with his left hand and threw it forcefully in an underhanded manner towards another helmet which was sitting on a bench just a couple of yards to the right of the same water cooler. This football, just like the last one, disappeared into the face of the open helmet and lodged itself there. The helmet bounced off a locker and landed in a pile of towels. Sprigs jumped to his feet and expostulated, "Amen!" With his eyes wide open he looked up and down and back and forth. He blessed himself rapidly and sat back down immediately. Coach Pitts experienced an instantaneous metamorphosis. His facial expression was similar to the expression of a young child in a candy store. "Mr. De Lord, I really don't know who you are and I really don't care. I don't know what's happening, but I suddenly feel like I have a tremendous amount of faith in you, Mr. De Lord. May I call you J.C.?" J. C. replied, "Of course you can. J.C.'s my name and football is my game! I'm your man. Believe me! You really have to believe me when I say if I can't do it then nobody can!"