The Sports Daily > Vikings Digital Diaries
Brad Childress; Master Negotiator

Monday proved to be a hot day in the Twin Cities. It proved to be even hotter under the collar of Minnesota Vikings coach, Brad Childress, as he stepped off of a plane into the thick atmosphere of Hattiesburg, Mississippi, in one last attempt to woo back his aging quarterback

Brad Childress: Goodness, it is warm down here. It is much worse than what mini camp will be like in Mankato. I don’t know why Brett wouldn’t want to come … it’s an oppressive heat down here. In Minnesota it’s much cooler with nice tree coverage to block out the sun, and fine wineries around every bend. Great place, great people. I just need to convince him of this. Now, where is he. He said he would pick me up at the airport …

*Brett Favre rolls onto the tarmack in a beaten up Ford, dirt on his Wranglers, to pick Childress up*

Brett Favre: Hey! Looke who it be, it’s old monkey shine, Chillycoot! Good to see ya, ya old water beetle! How’re things back home? The wife treatin’ ya ok with some nice baked pies and junk?

BC: Hello Brett, good to see you as well. No, we usually go out to restaurants and drink port while also discussing environmental disasters with invited professors from the local university. So no, we have not had time to indulge in delicious pie. Also, I’ve been busy attempting to plan and manage for my football team …

BF: Ahh, Chilly, don’t be goin’ there already! I hope you ain’t lookee to try ‘n get me back to that there Minnesota place for some footballin’. I told yer I hurt my ankle ‘n I don’t wanna play no more. Ain’t nothin’ you can do to convince me otherwise!

BC: Now, Brett, let’s be fair here. We all knew that you would need some time to think about your decision to come back and that we would give you your space, but …

BF: Hey, chrome dome! We talked about this! I told yer way back yonder there wunt nothin’ to think about! I’m done! No more, capooot! I ain’t playin’ no more ball! Get over it! … Unless …

BC: …. Unless?

BF: Yeah, unless. Unless you maybe meet some of my demands that I have which would make this here football team in Lake Land look a bit more fairer to my willowy old eyes.

BC: Well, Brett, we, as an organization, have always tried to be very accommodating to your … special needs … I guess I’m just not sure what more we can do or what power I have to make any further cha …

BF: Hey, flap jaw, you want me back or not?

BC: …. Ok, ok. Just tell me what you’re looking for first.

BF: Ok. First, ‘n foremost, you better have drafted a white running back like I told yer to do. Is that accomplished, mister manager sir?

BC: Yes Brett, you knew that. We drafted a very talented running back, who just happens to be of a lighter skin tone, that doesn’t have a terribly large history of fumbling the ball like Mr. Peterson does. What else?

BF: Didja find someone to get that Jump Pass brain dead Injun off my back during the game ‘n practices? He’s just so damn annoyin’, ‘n half the time I don’t know what the hell he even sayin’.

BC: Like me talking with you …

BF: What?

BC: Nothing. Listen, Tarvaris is African American and nowhere close to … well, to being Native American. I’m not even going to say what you said. And yes, we drafted another quarterback that comes from a well respected school that may push Jackson for playing time. What else?

BC: What about mister Big Mac, is he still on the team? I told yer to get him ‘n his partyin’ ass off the squad too. There ain’t no way no how I be playin’ for a flat footed doofus like that meathead.

BF: McKinnie is still on the team but we are working on blaming a fire that burnt down Charles Woodson’s house on him, which will make him a walking target and most likely injured by week four. We have serviceable replacements behind him that will undoubtedly be an upgrade, since it can’t get much worse.

BF: Ok, ok. Well, Brad, my little fairy queen, I just don’t know. I’m gettin’ old ‘n just don’t know how much my body can take, ‘n, well, ya know I’ve never been a big fan of training camp ‘n all …

BC: Dammit, Brett. Ok, we’ll pay you $13 million dollars, you can skip camp, we’ll lose McKinnie, I’ll never put Jackson into a game again, and we’ll let you run out at all home games by yourself to a cheers of 86,000 people. Deal?

BF: I want to run out by myself at the away games too, after the away home team introduces their players already. Can you work that out.

BC: Jesus, you are unbelievable. Sure, I’ll talk to LeBron about how that works. Will you just play out your contract?

BF: Sounds like a classic Southern deal. Now, let’s go shoot some possum, bub.

BC: I need my port.