CP's Bad Shrimp
A wise reader e-mailed me the following wise questions about the radio reports of Portis vomiting during the Bears game because of bad pre-game fried shrimp:
What??? Was he hanging out with tailgaters? Do players often/ever sample the fixins on their way in the stadium? Were they Bears fans? Gorillas? Did Smoot have some? Was the filet tender, at least? Isn't this the sort of thing that happens when you eat seafood from a parking lot out of season?
Indeed. Portis's regular media availability isn't until Thursday, but I got in some important shrimp questions this afternoon.
"My mom and them had pulled up in the parking lot and I hadn't ate anything," he told me. "I usually eat right, but I was running late and I didn't get a chance to eat. So I asked my mama if she had anything, and that's what she had. I won't eat that [stuff] no more."
His mom is famous for her pre-game meals, and I said I thought she would have brought homemade food.
"That's what I thought she was going to have," he said. "But for some particular reason she didn't cook that day. Well, she didn't bring what she cooked; she did cook."
Other important nuggets:
* When it was announced that Todd Collins was getting ready to address the media from the staircase, the media sprinted.
"Don't get trampled, don't get trampled, don't get trampled!" Randle El screamed. "Run, run, run. 4.4 speed."
* Somehow it emerged that Todd Collins likes to sniff footballs. Read more about it in tomorrow's Examiner.
* Fred Smoot loves National Geographic. Let me quote him.
"I love National Geographic," he said. "I read 'em every day. Anybody in here that knows me will tell you, I keep in the National Geographic."
The cover story in his locker? "Big Bad Bizarre Dinosaurs."
"That's good reading right there," he said.
* Demetric Evans's nicknames include "Sweet Meats" and "Buttercup." Somehow in the course of learning this, Comcast SportsyNet's Chick Hernandez began making fun of me, and Mike Sellers then said "any dude that's got a nickname 'Chick'..." and Sellers then began offering CSN employees $200 to find out Chick's real first name, and when he did he began screaming "Hey everybody, meet [name redacted to protect the innocent]."
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