Chris Cooley's Urine
Chris Cooley is about five days away from leaving pro football and becoming a full-time reporter. Well, he would be if full-time reporters landed groupies, eight-figure contracts, sports cars, cheerleaders, free sport performance beverages and as much job security as can-be-cut-at-any-moment pro football players. The point is, this is one of the best ledes I've ever read, from Cooley's latest at Shutdown Corner:
How do I end up in a bathroom stall at the Borgata with my pants around my ankles while a man named Bill stares at my penis?
Let's see W.C. Heinz top that one. The story goes on to detail the
trials vials and tribulations of NFL drug testing, with Cooley admirably filling my role of "goofball who asks bizarre questions to pro athletes," except without the PR guy saying "Ok, one more question guys," and with many, many, many more references to male genitalia.
It didn't take many interviews before finding out that most players on my team had some kind of crazy urination story. Rock Cartwright was thrown into the same situation as me: "I was standing in the middle of the bathroom in the New York, New York casino in Las Vegas, and the dude says, 'Just do it in front of the urinal.' Forget the stall, I was standing ass out in front of a urinal with some guy peeping around my shoulder."
And no, "some guy" didn't turn out to be Larry Craig, so far as we know.
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