“Honey, where’s my pajama pants with the little helmets on them?”

I’m catching up with Scott Hanson at home as he gets ready for another Sunday behind the desk.

“Yeah, I wear pajama pants at work. I’m behind that desk for 7 hours, so I want to be comfortable.”

Hanson is the wildly popular host of NFL RedZone, the favorite television program of fantasy football nerds and degenerate gamblers alike. He spends his fall Sundays whipping NFL fans around the league with the speed of a jackrabbit and the bladder control of a yogi.

“Yeah, it’s 7 hours commercial-free”, says Hanson. “I don’t drink coffee on Sundays.”

Suddenly a child’s scream pierces the serene morning air. “Uh oh. We’re going to take you live to my son’s bedroom, where he’s just spilled his juice again.” Scott Hanson isn’t just a popular TV host. He’s also a dad. “These are the moments I treasure”, Hanson muses as he rubs his son’s shirt with a paper towel, spreading and setting the stain. “Because when we go live on the air, children are only a faded watercolor memory and God is dead.”

We leave the scene of the juice spillage and enter the kitchen, where Hanson’s wife Nancy is packing his lunch. “What’s for lunch, baby?”, he asks. “The usual,” comes the reply. “Ham sandwich and your favorite trail mix – peanuts, cranberries, Flintstones chewables, and greenies.”

In the car on the ride to the studio, I ask Hanson what he likes and dislikes about his sudden fame. “Well, the best part is that everyone’s so nice to me. Our show is so popular, and people just want to thank you. That’s great. The downside is that some knucklehead is always asking how often I score in the Red Zone. I gotta say, that’s a bit personal. It’s between me, my wife, and her period tracker.”

We pull into the studio lot and it’s time to part ways. Hanson thanks me for the interview and asks who my favorite team is. “The Eagles”, I say. “Oh”, replies Hanson. “That’s too bad. I was going to give you a little shout out on the show today, but I don’t think we’ll be seeing any Eagles touchdowns.”

We share a knowing look and Hanson is off to give Sunday some meaning for people who don’t go to church. As I drive away, I see that he’s left a note behind. “Help me”, it says. “For the love of God, somebody take me away from this place!”