NFL was born in Canton, Ohio back in 1920. He was named AFPA upon his birth, but two years later had it changed to NFL. He died earlier this week, at too young of an age. This man, whose life that started in poverty at the mouth of the Great Depression, grew to be one of the richest of men. NFL came out of obscurity to be loved by millions of his countrymen. When hard times hit America, the NFL was the first to invite people over to one of his 32 houses, to gather and heal over festivities of unity.
It’s ironic that these same patriotic moments led to the death of Mr. NFL. As many of his followers gathered to prepare for the festivities of the mourning of the 10th anniversary of 9/11, the same event that NFL helped his friends heal from 10 years prior, NFL said that he wanted to be alone this day with his money.
He died without money, as it drastically diminished due to his friends, loved ones and family feeling scorned. They stopped visiting him and bringing him money, and he slowly started to wilt up and die. As the money ran out, he couldn’t eat. In his last days he pleaded with his friends and fans to come back and help him in this time of need, however they felt betrayed and had moved on to other things. Some had turned to his brothers MLB, NBA and NHL, and even others started paying attention to his lesser known cousin, UFL. But all had moved on. Since NFL couldn’t be there for them in their time of need, they had come together and collectively said that they wouldn’t be there for him either.
Ultimately, NFL wasn’t brought down alone. On his death bed, he received bad advice from his closest confidants, Roger Goodell and DeMaurice Smith. NFL felt like they had his best interest at heart. They didn’t! They only wanted to be close to him to build their own legacy. As the two bickered, NFL was stuck in the middle. The two sides pulled at him as if intentionally trying to split him down the middle, or 60/40 after the first billion.
Goodell and Smith knew that their names would always go down in history with how they dealt with NFL. As their egos grew in the limelight meant for Mr. NFL’s shield, one that he so proudly wore as a crest on his chest, Goodell and Smith felt that the millions of fans and friends of NFL were actually there for them. Each took up time playing to the affections of NFL’s friends, but both were upset when his friends just kept asking “how is NFL”. In a moment of spite, they locked out the friends and family from visiting NFL. As he perished alone, Goodell and Smith mocked his suffering.
Over the past few months, as NFL lie in intensive care, the experts warned Goodell and Smith to get together and visit NFL and help nourish him. They would visit for a day or two but would occupy their time taking cheap shots at each other. As they quit visiting, NFL passed in his sleep…alone, broken. In his hospital bed, the battle torn crest came undone from his chest as the wind whisked it away out of an open window. The shield slowly drifted down to the feet of a little boy on his way to a baseball game. The boy looked down curiously and then back up at his dad and said, “Dad, what is that?” His dad simply replied, “nothing.” Moving on as they both stepped on the shield forcing it deeper out of sight, the father and son took a few more steps through the doors of their local baseball stadium, to enjoy the wonderful experience that NFL’s brother, MLB has planned to honor those lost for the 10th anniversary of 9/11.
On the cross streets, Goodell and Smith watched as the whole scene unfolded. It’s then, when they realized, they killed the NFL!