(Disclaimer: This is NOT what really happened between Beutjer and Aiello. This is purely a fictional satire of their much-publicized scuffle from weeks ago, created solely for the reading enjoyment of Hawkeye fans everywhere, not as a truthful account of any sort. After seeing the media make things seem bigger than they really are, Adam and HTO would like to bring a little humor to Hawk fans.)
It's a warm summer night in Iowa City. While most of the city sleeps, the downtown area is once again hopping with activity, though certainly not as busy as when the school year actually begins. At the popular bar "The Sports Column," many athletes are gathered to celebrate another finished day of practice. The season draws closer, and optimism is running high. However, something's fishy in Hawkeye land.
We find ourselves inside the crowded bar now, as loud music, cigarette smoke, and considerable amounts of conversation fill the air. At a booth, a couple football players sit, talking.
Chris Oliver: …so then Luke says, ‘but Coach, my knee is broken!'
Brad Banks: They let him out of practice for the rest of the year cause of that?
Chris: I guess so.
Brad: Those basketball players are such prima donnas.
Chris: Straight up.
Just then, Jon Beutjer and Sam Aiello enter. They seem to be in good spirits, and they recognize the players from across the way.
Sam Aiello: What are you doing!!
Chris: What are you doing!!
The entire bar falls awkwardly silent. All eyes are on Brad.
Brad: What are you doing!!
Conversation returns to normal, and the two incoming players come over to sit with the others. A waitress attends to the table.
Extremely Hot Waitress: Can I get you boys anything?
Jon Beutjer: Raspberry RC Cola, please.
Waitress: Um, we don't have that… we have beer, we have, um…
Waitress: Why aren't you guys drinking?
Sam: Are you kidding? Now? Coach would KILL us!
Brad: Yeah, the team comes first. Simple pleasures like intoxication aren't worth the trouble they cause.
Chris: Brad, that was beautiful. Just beautiful.
Brad: Yeah, I got it from a fortune cookie.
Jon: Hey, save our seats, guys; Sam and I are gonna mingle.
Jon and Sam get up and go talk to girls, who are mostly intimidated by the fact that both are 6'5", not to mention Aiello's 310-pound frame. Hey, sometimes it's tough for linemen.
Bob Sanders, all 5'8" of him, joins the two players at the table, his head barely poking above the surface of the table.
Bob: What up fellas… what's wrong, Brad?
Brad: Just look at him, that punk.
Chris: He's just having a good time, B… what's your problem?
Brad (quietly): He's in my way, dogg.
Chris: What? Is there a hot girl sitting behind him? (Bob and Chris crane their necks in search of a hot girl)
Brad: No, no… he's in my way, like if it weren't for him, I'd be one step closer to starting!
Bob: Shouldn't you just, you know, play better than him?
Brad: Man… you know Coach just don't like me, not after I spray-painted "Go Clones" on his car…
Chris: Yeah, what was up with that?
Brad: C. J. Jones bet me I wouldn't.
Chris: How much?
Brad (grinning): Couple bucks. Sucker.
The waitress returns with the four cups of water.
Waitress (to Bob): Do you need anything?
Bob: Yeah, can I get a booster seat please?
Chris and Brad try to stifle their laughter.
Waitress: Uhh… sure… anything else?
Bob: Oh yeah, a water.
Chris: So what are you going to do, Brad? Coach said killing guys ahead of you in the 2-deep is illegal!
Brad: Check this out. Hey yo Sam! SAM!
Sam (turning around): Hmm?
Brad: Did you hear what Jon said about you?
Sam (walking back towards the table): What? No, he never said anything… he's my roommate, and roommates get along!
Brad: Naw dogg, you gotta hear this, he said… (leaning in close, and whispering inaudibly)…
Sam: He said that?
Brad: (continues whispering)
Sam: MY grandmother?!
Brad: (continues whispering)
Sam: …oh, GROSS…
Brad: (continues whispering)
Sam: Oh, he's gonna get it… all that other stuff was bad, but when you mess with my taste in clothes, you're messing with a whole new style of danger!
Bob: I don't even know what that means.
Brad: Yeah, me either.
Sam: I'm saying, like… you know, with the clothes… never mind. Jon… yo, JON… HEY JON!!
Jon, looking over the crowd that separates them, shifts his attention towards Sam.
Sam (angrily): Yo, Did you say my clothes suck?
Jon: What? I can't hear you!
Sam (louder): My clothes! Do they suck?
Jon: WHAAT?? SPEAK UP!
Sam (tugging on his shirt): MY CLOTHES!!!
Brad nods enthusiastically behind Sam, motioning for Jon, who still has no idea what Sam is saying, to say yes. Jon notices Brad.
Jon: UHH… SURE!
Sam: You, me, outside, NOW!!!
With the accompanying hand motions, there is no doubt as to what Sam means. Jon, who is absolutely bewildered at this point, follows Sam outside. Once the two are outside, a seething Sam states his case.
Sam: You'd better watch your mouth around me, kid. I can break you like a toothpick.
Never taunt a quarterback…especially one with a history of concussions. There's nothing more dangerous than a chip on the shoulder of the mentally unbalanced.
Jon: You'd better watch out yourself, Pillsbury… I'm a two-sport star, Sam, I'm dangerous, I'm shifty… am I going to come with the PLAY-ACTION (Jon waves his hands in Sam's face, to no apparent effect), or am I going with THE SLAM DUNK!!
Jon, going for dramatic effect, throws a punch at Sam with his slam dunk comment. His blow lands on Sam's chest, who doesn't even so much as flinch.
Jon: Ow. My hand.
Sam throws a right hook that catches Jon flush in the face, sending him flying and spinning. Jon lands on the sidewalk, nose bleeding. This, of course, doesn't even slightly deter Jon.
Jon: You want to play with fire, scarecrow? Yeaaah!!!
Jon charges Sam, and tries to tackle him, which obviously doesn't work. It ends up looking like some sort of a bear hug. Sam punches Jon in the back of the head, causing Jon to drop once again, this time at Sam's feet.
Jon (wheezing): weak, weak, weak... don't sing it, bring it, little man…
Sam grabs Jon by the head and yanks him back up.
Sam (snarling in rage): Now take back what you said, or I will beat you so hard, your GRANDMA gets a concussion!
At this point, the patron saint of mercy, whoever that is, must step in, because Jon, about to make a comment about the poor hygienic practices of Sam's entire family, realizes that he has no idea why Sam is upset.
Jon: But I don't remember what I said…
Now, had he actually said anything, he probably wouldn't have remembered it anyway.
Sam: Don't you dare lie to me! Brad told me all about what you said about me and Cyclone cheerleaders!
Sam: And about me buying tickets to the Backstreet Boys concert!
Jon: You're kidding, right?
At this point, the truth dawns on Jon and Sam, who both look inside the bar to see Brad laughing hysterically. The two, with their problems obviously behind them, run back into the bar. Brad, seeing the two turn against him, quickly gets up and runs away. Luckily for Brad, he runs a 4.5, and Sam… well, he doesn't. Hey, sometimes it's tough for linemen.
Banks made it safely back to his residence that night, as Aiello wasn't even close to catching him on foot, especially considering the breathers he had to take every 3 blocks. However, after hearing about the incident, Coach Ferentz punished Brad in his own way, putting him in the ever-popular "Blindside Sack Drill" where Brad received full-blown hits from Matt Roth and Bob Sanders for a few minutes. And all was once again well in Iowa City.
Look for more humorous columns by author Adam Jacobi in his regular feature, "Behind the Scenes in Iowa City." Adam is a journalism student at the University of Iowa.