A football stadium. A goalpost.

Evening.

TAWMMY: (Advancing with short, stiff strides, legs wide apart) I’m beginnin’ tah come round tah dat opinion. All my life I’ve tried tah put it from me, sayin’ “Tawmmy, be reasonable, you haven’t tried everything.” And I kept on strugglin’. (He broods, musing on the struggle. Turning to SULLY.) So there you ahh again.

SULLY: Am I?

TAWMMY: Glad tah see ya back. I thought you were-ah gone forevah.

SULLY: Me too.

TAWMMY: Togethah again at last! We’ll have tah celebrate this. But how? (He reflects.) Get up an’ gimme a hug.

SULLY: (Irritably) Not now, not now. Six feet apaht, Tawmmy.

TAWMMY: (Hurt, coldly) May one inquiah wheah His Highness spent thah night?

SULLY: In a ditch.

TAWMMY: (Admiringly) A ditch! Wheah?

SULLY: (Without gesture) Over there-ah.

TAWMMY: And they didn’t beatcha?

SULLY: Beat me? Of fackin’ couahse they did.

TAWMMY: Same guys as usual?

SULLY: You mean those fackin’ Titans fans from Woostah? I don’t know.

TAWMMY: (Gloomily) It’s too much foah one man. (Pause. Cheerfully.) On the othah hand what’s the good of losing haht now, that’s what I say. We shoulda thought of it a million yeahs ago, in the nineties.

SULLY: Aw, stop blatherin’ and help me off with this fackin’ thing.

TAWMMY: What ahh you doin’?

SULLY: Takin’ off my shoes. Did that nevah happen to you?

TAWMMY: Shoes gotta be taken off every day, I’m tiyahd of tellin’ you that. Why don’t you listen to me?

SULLY: (Feebly) Help me!

TAWMMY: It hurts?

SULLY: (Angrily) Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts!

TAWMMY: (Angrily) No one ever suffahs but us! NO ONE DENIES THIS. I don’t count. I’d like to here-ah what you’d say if you had what I have.

SULLY: Why don’t you help me?

TAWMMY: Sometimes I feel it comin’ all the same. Then I go all weiahd. (He takes off his hat, peers inside it, feels about inside it, shakes it, puts it on again.) I dunno what I’d call it? Relieved and at the same time . . . (He searches for the word) . . . appalled. (With emphasis.) AP-PALLED. (He takes off his hat again, peers inside it.) Funny. (He knocks on the crown as though to dislodge a foreign body, peers into it again, puts it on again.) Nothin’ tuh be done. (SULLY, with a supreme effort, succeeds in pulling off his shoe. He peers inside it, feels about inside it, turns it upside down, shakes it, looks on the ground to see if anything has fallen out, finds nothing, feels inside it again, staring sightlessly before him.)

SULLY: Well?

TAWMMY: Pah! (He spits his dip.)

SULLY: Chahmin’ spot. Inspirin’ prawspects. (He turns to TAWMMY.) Let’s go.

TAWMMY: We can’t.

SULLY: Why not?

TAWMMY: We’re waitin’ for-ah football.

SULLY: (Despairingly) Ah! (Pause.) You’re sure it was here-ah?

TAWMMY: What?

SULLY: That we wuh s’posed tuh wait.

TAWMMY: Said by the goalpost. (They look at the goalpost.) D’you see any othahs?

SULLY: What is it?

TAWMMY: A goalpost, dumbass.

SULLY: Where ahh the little flags?

TAWMMY: It must be a practise one.

SULLY: Looks to me more-ah like a Juggs machine.

TAWMMY: A tacklin’ dummy.

SULLY: A watah coolah.

TAWMMY: A—. Whaddya trynna say, huh? That we came to the wrong place?

SULLY: It should be here-ah.

TAWMMY: It wasn’t foah sure it’d come.

SULLY: And if it doesn’t come?

TAWMMY: We’ll come back tomorrow.

SULLY: And then the day aftah tomorrow.

TAWMMY: Possibly.

SULLY: And so on.

TAWMMY: The point is—

SULLY: Until it comes.

TAWMMY: You’re a fackin’ piece of work, bud.

SULLY: We came heah yestahday.

TAWMMY: Nope. Not a chance.

SULLY: What did we do yestahday?

TAWMMY: What did we do yestahday?

SULLY: Yeah.

TAWMMY: Why I. . . (Angrily.) Nothin’s foah sure when you’ah about.

SULLY: In my opinion, we wuh here-ah.

TAWMMY: (Looking round) You recognize the place?

SULLY: I didn’t say that.

TAWMMY: Well?

SULLY: Makes no difference.

TAWMMY: All the same . . . that goalpost . . . (Turning towards stands) that sideline . . .

SULLY: You’ah sure it was this evenin’?

TAWMMY: What?

SULLY: That we wuh s’posed to wait.

TAWMMY: They said Satahday. (Pause.) I think.

SULLY: You think.

TAWMMY: I don’t even know any more-ah. I’m so fackin’ sick of waitin’ around. I can’t take it any more-ah. Corona’s taken fackin’ everythin’ from us. My job. My cahhh. Being able to fackin’ spit dip at Yanks fans on the Mass Turnpike. Sometimes I just wanna fackin’ kill myself.

SULLY: Me too.

TAWMMY: Well if we did, how would we do it?

SULLY: What about hangin’ owahselves?

TAWMMY: From thah goalpost? (They go towards the end zone.) Eh. I wouldn’t trust it.

SULLY: We can always try.

TAWMMY: Go ahead.

SULLY: Aftah you.

TAWMMY: No no, you fahst.

SULLY: Why me?

TAWMMY: I don’t undahstand.

SULLY: Use youah intelligence, can’tcha?

(TAWMMY uses his intelligence. He comes up empty.)

TAWMMY: (Finally) I remain in the dahk.

SULLY: Christ. (He reflects.) The post . . . the post . . . (Angrily.) Use youah head, can’tcha?

TAWMMY: Well? What do we do?

SULLY: Don’t do anythin’. It’s safah that way.

TAWMMY: Let’s wait and see when it comes back.

SULLY: When what comes back?

TAWMMY: Football.

SULLY: Good idea.

(Enter BILL BELICHICK and CAM NEWTON. BELICHICK commands  NEWTON by means of a whistle, so that NEWTON is the first to enter, followed by the whistle, which is large enough to be the size of a trumpet, held on a long stick, before BELICHICK appears, holding the ridiculous contraption. CAM NEWTON carries a dozen footballs with him, all of them loose, looking very awkward.)

SULLY: (Undertone) Is that…?

TAWMMY: Who?

SULLY: (Trying to remember the name) Er . . .

TAWMMY: Coach B?

SULLY: Yeah.

TAWMMY: Yes, you gigantic fackin’ idiot.

SULLY: (Timidly, to BELICHICK) You’re not… Football?

BELICHICK: (Confused grumbling) What?

TAWMMY: Well you see—

BELICHICK: (Grumbling peremptory) Do you guys think football is a person?

SULLY: Football?

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) You took me for football.

TAWMMY: Oh no, Coach, not for-ah an instant, Coach.

SULLY: (Recoiling before BELICHICK) That’s to say . . . you undahstand . . . the dusk . . . thah strain . . . waitin’ . . . I imagined . . . for a second . . .

BELICHICK: (grumbling) Waiting? So you were waiting for football?

TAWMMY: Well you see—

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) Here? On this private practise field?

TAWMMY: We didn’t mean any hahhm.

SULLY: We meant well.

BELICHICK: (Continues to grumble)  Let’s say no more about it. Gentlemen, if you want to stay and watch my new quarterback learn the playbook, you can.

(Practise opens. The rest of the team files out; NEWTON is working with the first-team offense. He’s sharing reps evenly with the other QBs. His throws don’t seem to have the same youthful zip that they had even just a few years ago.)

TAWMMY: He looks tiahed.

SULLY: Why doesn’t he run into contact like before-ah?

TAWMMY: How do I know? (They close in on him.) Careful!

SULLY: Say something to him.

TAWMMY: Look!

SULLY: What?

TAWMMY: (Pointing) His head!

SULLY: (Looking at the head) I don’t see nothin’.

TAWMMY: Here-ah.

(SULLY goes over beside TAWMMY.)

SULLY: Oh shit!

TAWMMY: Is he cross-eyed?

SULLY: It’s his old O-line.

TAWMMY: It’s thah NFC South pass rush goin’ head-huntin’.

SULLY: It’s those year-ahs of play-option.

TAWMMY: It’s the officiating.

SULLY: It’s the shoulders. (They resume their inspection, dwell on the face.)

TAWMMY: (Grudgingly) He’s prawbably still concussed.

SULLY: Looks like his last gasp as a startah to me.

TAWMMY: It’s not for sure-ah. (Pause.) Ask him a question.

SULLY: Would that be a good thing?

TAWMMY: Whadda we risk?

SULLY: (Timidly) Coach. . .

TAWMMY: Loudah.

SULLY: (Louder) Coach. . .

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) What?

TAWMMY: What we’re trying to ask is–

SULLY: Is he, you know–

BELICHICK: (More agitated) WHAT?

TAWMMY: All right?

SULLY: In thah head?

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) It’s an open QB competition. Nothing’s settled yet. The guy who plays best wins the job.

TAWMMY: He can’t beah it.

SULLY: Any longer-ah.

TAWMMY: He’s goin’ mad.

SULLY: It’s terrible. (He turns to TAWMMY). Does he expect to replace Brady?

TAWMMY: What?

SULLY: Does he expect him to take Brady’s place or-ah not?

TAWMMY: I dunno.

SULLY: What?

TAWMMY: I’m not sure-ah.

SULLY: Ask him.

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) You want him to answer a question? Yeah, he can still do that.

SULLY: I’d rather he run the ball, it’d be more fun.

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) Not necessarily.

SULLY: Wouldn’t it be more-ah fun?

TAWMMY: I’d like to hear-ah what he’s gotta say.

SULLY: Maybe he could run thah ball first and think aftahwards, if it ain’t too much to ask.

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) Yeah, he can do that.

TAWMMY: Then let him run. (Silence.)

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) Do you hear, Cam?

SULLY: He nevah refuses?

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) He refused once. Now he’s here. (Silence.) QB keep, Cam! (NEWTON takes the snap, but it sails over his head and the balls skitters away. He starts to run, but falters, unsure of what to do next.)

BELICHICK: (Loudly grumbling) AGAIN! (NEWTON does the exact same thing again.)

SULLY: God, that was dogshit. Hell, even I could do that. (He imitates NEWTON, almost falls.) Wit’ a little practice. God, I hope this team figures out the QB situation.

TAWMMY: (To BELICHICK). Tell him to answer-ah questions.

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) Give him his hat.

TAWMMY: His hat?

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) He can’t think without his hat.

TAWMMY: (To SULLY) Give him his hat.

SULLY: (To BELICHICK) Tell him tuh go and fetch it. I don’t wanna get within six feet of him.

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) It’s better to give it to him.

TAWMMY: I’ll give it to him. (He picks up the hat and tenders it at arm’s length to NEWTON, who does not move.)

BELICHICK: You must put it on his head.

SULLY: (To BELICHICK) Tell him tah take it.

BELICHICK: It’s better to put it on his head.

TAWMMY: I’ll put it on his head. (He goes round behind NEWTON, approaches him cautiously, puts the hat on his head and recoils smartly. NEWTON does not move. Silence.)

SULLY: What’s he waiting for-ah?

BELICHICK: Stand back! Six feet! (TAWMMY and SULLY move away from NEWTON. BELICHICK blows his whistle. NEWTON looks at BELICHICK.) Think, Cam!

BELICHICK: Stop! (NEWTON stops.) Back! (NEWTON moves back.) Stop! (NEWTON stops.) Turn! (NEWTON turns towards TAWMMY and SULLY.) Think!

NEWTON: ₮ⱧɆ QɄ₳QɄ₳QɄ₳QɄ₳Ɽ₮ɆⱤ฿₳₵₭ ł₴ ₳₦ ɆӾ₮Ɇ₦₴łØ₦ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆ ₵Ø₳₵Ⱨ ₳₦Đ Ⱨ₳₴ ₳ ₵ɆⱤ₮₳ł₦ ₮Ɏ₱Ɇ Ø₣ ₴₩₳₲₲ɆⱤ ₥Ɇ₦₮₳Ⱡł₮Ɏ Ø₦ ₳₦Đ Ø₣₣ ₳₦Đ Ø₦ ₳₦Đ Ø₣₣ ₳₦Đ Ø₦ ₳₦Đ Ø₣₣ ₮ⱧɆ ₣łɆⱠĐ ł ĐØ₦’₮ ₩₳₦₮ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ ₮ⱧɆ ₵Ɇ₦₮ɆⱤ Ø₣ ₳₮₮Ɇ₦₮łØ₦ ₩Ⱨł₵Ⱨ ł₴ łⱤØ₦ł₵ ł Ⱨ₳₮Ɇ Ⱨ₳Vł₦₲ ₳ⱠⱠ ɆɎɆ₴ Ø₦ ₥Ɇ Ʉ₦ⱠɆ₴₴ ł₮’₴ ₣ØⱤ ₥Ɏ JØ฿ ₳₦Đ ₥Ɏ JØ฿ ł₴ ₱Ⱡ₳Ɏł₦₲ ₣ØØ₣ØØ₣ØØ₣ØØ₮฿₳ⱠⱠ ł’₥ ₦Ø₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₳₮₮Ɇ₦₮łØ₦-ⱧɄ₦₲ⱤɎ ₩ł₦₦ł₦₲ ł₴ ₵Ø₦₮₳₲łØɄ₴ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ₮ⱧɆ ₱ØӾ ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ ₴Ɏ₱ⱧłⱠł₴ ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ Ɽł₦₲₩ØⱤ₥ ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ Đ₳₦ĐⱤɄ₣₣ ɎØɄ ₭₦Ø₩ ł₮’₴ ₳ ₮ⱧØɄ₲Ⱨ₮ ł₮’₴ ₦Ø₮ ₴Ø₥Ɇ₮Ⱨł₦₲ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ JɄ₴₮ Ⱨ₳₱₱Ɇ₦₴ Ø₦ ₴Ʉ₦Đ₳Ɏ₴ ØⱤ ₮ⱧɄⱤ₴Đ₳Ɏ₴ ØⱤ Ø₵₵₳₴łØ₦₳ⱠⱠɎ ₴₳₮ɄⱤĐ₳Ɏ₴ ĐɄⱤł₦₲ ₮ⱧɆ ₱Ⱡ₳Ɏ Ø₣₣ ₮ł₥Ɇ₴ Ø₣ ɎɆ₳Ɽ ɎØɄ ₭₦Ø₩ ₮Ⱨ₳₮’₴ ₴Ø₥Ɇ₮Ⱨł₦₲ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₮Ø ⱠłVɆ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ₳ ₩ł₦₦ɆⱤ ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₮Ø ₮Ⱨł₦₭ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ₳ ₩ł₦₦ɆⱤ ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₮Ø Ɇ₳₮ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ₳ ₩ł₦₦ɆⱤ ɆVɆⱤɎ₮Ⱨł₦₲ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ɎØɄ ĐØ ₩ł₮Ⱨ Ⱡł₣Ɇ ɎØɄ ₲Ø₮₮₳ ฿Ɇ ₳ ₩ł₦₦ɆⱤ ł ₴ɆɆ ₮ⱧɆ Ⱡł₲Ⱨ₮ ₳₮ ₮ⱧɆ Ɇ₦Đ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆ ₮Ʉ₦₦ɆⱠ ₴Ø ł’₥ ₲Øł₦₲ Ⱨ₳ⱤĐ ₵Ø₦₮ⱤØⱠ ₩Ⱨ₳₮ ɎØɄ ₵₳₦ ₵Ø₦₮ⱤØⱠ ĐØ₦’₮ ⱠØ₴Ɇ ₴ⱠɆɆ₱ ₩ØⱤⱤɎł₦₲ ₳฿ØɄ₮ ₮Ⱨł₦₲₴ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ɎØɄ ĐØ₦’₮ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₵Ø₦₮ⱤØⱠ ØVɆⱤ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ ₳₮ ₮ⱧɆ Ɇ₦Đ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆ Đ₳Ɏ ɎØɄ ₴₮łⱠⱠ ₩Ø₦’₮ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₳₦Ɏ ₵Ø₦₮ⱤØⱠ ØVɆⱤ ₮ⱧɆ₥ ł ₲ⱤɆ₩ Ʉ₱ ₮ⱤɎł₦₲ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ₥Ɏ łĐØⱠ₴ ₳₦Đ Ø₦Ɇ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆ ₥₳ł₦ ₱ɆØ₱ⱠɆ ł₦ ₥Ɏ Ⱡł₣Ɇ ₩₳₴ ₥Ɏ ₣₳₮ⱧɆⱤ ⱧɆ ₱Ⱡ₳ɎɆĐ ₣ØØ₣ØØ₣ØØ₣ØØ₮฿₳ⱠⱠ ₳₦Đ ₩ⱧɆ₦ ɎØɄⱤ ₣₳₮ⱧɆⱤ ł₴ ₮ɆⱠⱠł₦₲ ₴₮ØⱤłɆ₴ ₳฿ØɄ₮ ₮ⱧɆ ₲₳₥Ɇ ⱧɆ ₱Ⱡ₳ɎɆĐ ɆVɆⱤɎ฿ØĐɎ ₩₳₦₮₴ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ₮ⱧɆłⱤ ₣₳₮ⱧɆⱤ ł ₴ɆɆ ₥Ɏ₴ɆⱠ₣ ₦Ø₮ Ø₦ⱠɎ ₳₴ ₳ ₣ØØ₣ØØ₣ØØ₣ØØ₮฿₳ⱠⱠ ₱Ⱡ₳ɎɆⱤ ฿Ʉ₮ ₳₦ Ɇ₦₮ɆⱤ₮₳ł₦ɆⱤ ₳₦Đ ł₵Ø₦ ₥Ø₴₮ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆ ₮ł₥Ɇ ł ĐØ₦’₮ ⱤɆ₳ⱠⱠɎ ₲łVɆ ₱ɆØ₱ⱠɆ ₳ ₵Ⱨ₳₦₵Ɇ ł Ⱨ₳VɆ ₳ ₩₳ⱠⱠ Ʉ₱ ł’₥ ₳Ⱡ₩₳Ɏ₴ ₱ⱤØ₮Ɇ₵₮ł₦₲ ₩ⱧØ ł ₳₥ ₮Ⱨł₦₭ł₦₲ ₳฿ØɄ₮ ₥Ɏ ฿Ɽ₳₦Đ ł ₥₳₭Ɇ ł₮ Ⱨ₳ⱤĐ Ø₦ ₱ɆØ₱ⱠɆ ₴Ø₥Ɇ₮ł₥Ɇ₴ ł₮’₴ ₳ ₲ØØĐ ₮Ⱨł₦₲ ₴Ø₥Ɇ₮ł₥Ɇ₴ ł₮’₴ ₳ ฿₳Đ ₮Ⱨł₦₲ ł₦ ₵ØⱠⱠɆ₲Ɇ ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳Đ ₮Ø ₩ØⱤⱤɎ ₳฿ØɄ₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₥₳₮Ⱨ ₵Ⱡ₳₴₴ ØⱤ ₮Ⱨł₴ ɆӾ₳₥ ₮Ⱨ₳₮’₴ ₵Ø₥ł₦₲ Ʉ₱ Ø₦ ₮ɄɆ₴Đ₳Ɏ ฿Ʉ₮ ₦Ø₮ ł₦ ₮ⱧɆ ₱ⱤØ₱ⱤØ₱ⱤØ₣Ɇ₴₴łØ₦₳Ⱡ₴ ɎØɄ Ɇ₳₮ ₴ⱠɆɆ₱ ₳₦Đ ĐØ ɆVɆⱤɎ₮Ⱨł₦₲ ⱤɆⱠ₳₮ɆĐ ₮Ø ɎØɄⱤ ₵Ɽ₳₣₮ ₳₦Đ ɎØɄⱤ ₵Ɽ₳₣₮ ł₴ ₣ØØ₣ØØ₣ØØ₣ØØ₮฿₳ⱠⱠ ɎØɄ ₵₳₦ ฿Ɇ ₳₮ ł₮ ₣ⱤØ₥ ₴Ʉ₦Ʉ₱ ₮Ø ₴Ʉ₦ĐØ₩₦ ₮Ø ₴Ʉ₦Ʉ₱ ₮Ø ₴Ʉ₦ĐØ₩₦ ₮Ø ₴Ʉ₦Ʉ₱ ₮Ø ⱧØ₩ ₳ ₱ɆⱤ₴Ø₦ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₴₳Ɏ₴ ⱠØ₴ł₦₲ ł₴ ₦Ø₮ Đł₣₣ł₵ɄⱠ₮ ł ĐØ₦’₮ ɆVɆ₦ ₩₳₦₮ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ ₳ⱤØɄ₦Đ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₱ɆⱤ₴Ø₦ ₳₦Đ Ø฿VłØɄ₴ⱠɎ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₱ɆⱤ₴Ø₦ Ⱨ₳₴ ₦ɆVɆⱤ ₩Ø₦ ₳₦Ɏ₮Ⱨł₦₲ ⱤɆⱠɆV₳₦₮ ł₦ ₮ⱧɆłⱤ Ⱡł₣Ɇ ₦Ø₮ ₣ØØ₮฿₳ⱠⱠ ØⱤ ₮łĐĐⱠɎ₩ł₦₭₴ ØⱤ ₮Ɇ₦₦ł₴ ₣ØØ₮฿₳ⱠⱠ ⱤɄ₦₦ł₦₲ ₵Ɏ₵Ⱡł₦₲ ₴₩ł₥₥ł₦₲ ₣ⱠɎł₦₲ ₣ⱠØ₳₮ł₦₲ ⱤłĐł₦₲ ₲ⱠłĐł₦₲ ₵Ø₦₳₮ł₦₲ ₵₳₥Ø₲łɆ ₴₭₳₮ł₦₲ ₮Ɇ₦₦ł₴ Ø₣ ₳ⱠⱠ ₭ł₦Đ₴ ĐɎł₦₲ ₣ⱠɎł₦₲ ₴₱ØⱤ₮₴ Ø₣ ₳ⱠⱠ ₴ØⱤ₮₴ ₳Ʉ₮Ʉ₥₦ ₴Ʉ₥₥ɆⱤ ₩ł₦₮ɆⱤ ₩ł₦₮ɆⱤ ₮Ɇ₦₦ł₴ Ø₣ ₳ⱠⱠ ₭ł₦Đ₴ ⱧØ₵₭ɆɎ Ø₣ ₳ⱠⱠ ₴ØⱤ₮₴ ₱Ɇ₦ł₵łⱠⱠł₦ ₳₦Đ ₴Ʉ₵₵ɆĐ₳₦Ɇ₳ ł₦ ₳ ₩ØⱤĐ ł ⱤɆ₴Ʉ₥Ɇ ₣ⱠɎł₦₲ ₲ⱠłĐł₦₲ ₲ØⱠ₣ ØVɆⱤ ₦ł₦Ɇ ₳₦Đ Ɇł₲Ⱨ₮ɆɆ₦ ⱧØⱠɆ₴ ₮Ɇ₦₦ł₴ Ø₣ ₳ⱠⱠ ₴ØⱤ₮₴ ₦Ø₮ ₮Ø ₴ØɄ₦Đ ₳ⱤⱤØ₲₳₦₮ ฿Ʉ₮ ₩Ⱨ₳₮ ł гРł₦ Ø₦Ɇ ɎɆ₳Ɽ Ø₮ⱧɆⱤ₴ ₵ØɄⱠĐ₦’₮ ĐØ ł₦ ₮ⱧɆłⱤ Ɇ₦₮łⱤɆ ₵ØⱠⱠɆ₲ł₳₮Ɇ ₵₳ⱤɆɆⱤ₴ ł’₥ ₳₦ ɆӾ₳₥₱ⱠɆ Ø₣ ₩ⱧɎ ₱ɆØ₱ⱠɆ ĐɆ₴ɆⱤVɆ ₴Ɇ₵Ø₦Đ ₳₦Đ ₮ⱧłⱤĐ ₳₦Đ ₴ɆVɆ₦₮Ⱨ ₳₦Đ ₦ł₦Ɇ₮ɆɆ₦₮Ⱨ ₳₦Đ ₮₩Ɇ₦₮Ɏ ₮ⱧłⱤĐ ₵Ⱨ₳₦₵Ɇ₴ ł’₥ ₳ ⱠłVł₦₲ ₮Ɇ₴₮ł₥Ø₦Ɏ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₳₦Ɏ₮Ⱨł₦₲ ł₴ ₱Ø₴₴ł฿ⱠɆ ł₦₵ⱠɄĐł₦₲ ฿Ʉ₮ ₦Ø₮ Ⱡł₥ł₮ɆĐ ₮Ø ₥₳₦₦ɆⱤ₴ ł₦ ₴Ʉ₵Ⱨ ₳₴ ⱧØ₩ ₩ⱧɆ₦ ₱ɆØ₱ⱠɆ ₴ɆɆ ɎØɄ ĐØ ₳ⱠⱤł₲Ⱨ₮ ₮ⱧɆ₦ ɎØɄ ₴₮₳Ɽ₮ ₩ł₦₦ł₦₲ ₮ⱧɆłⱤ ⱧɆ₳Ɽ₮₴ ł₮’₴ ₦Ø₮ ₲Øł₦₲ ₮Ø ₵Ø₥Ɇ Ɇ₳₴Ɏ ₮ⱧØɄ₲Ⱨ ł₮ ĐØɆ₴₦’₮ ₥₳₮₮ɆⱤ ⱧØ₩ ₥₳₦Ɏ ₱ɆØ₱ⱠɆ ɎØɄ ĐØ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ɎØɄ’ⱤɆ ₴₮łⱠⱠ ₲Øł₦₲ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ Ⱨ₳₮ɆĐ ฿Ɏ ₴Ø ₥₳₦Ɏ Ø₮ⱧɆⱤ₴ ɎØɄ ₵₳₦’₮ ⱠłVɆ ɎØɄⱤ Ⱡł₣Ɇ ₮ⱤɎł₦₲ ₮Ø ₥₳₭Ɇ ɆVɆⱤɎ฿ØĐɎ Ⱨ₳₱₱Ɏ ₮Ø₥ ฿Ɽ₳ĐɎ ł₴ ₲ØØĐ ⱤɆ₳Ⱡ ₲ØØĐ ฿Ʉ₮ ⱧɆ ₱Ⱡ₳Ɏ₴ ł₦ ₴₳₥Ɇ ⱠɆ₳₲ɄɆ ₳₴ ł ĐØ ₩Ⱨ₳₮ Ⱨ₳₱₱Ɇ₦₴ ₩ⱧɆ₦ ɎØɄ ₮₳₭Ɇ ₳ ⱠłØ₦ ØɄ₮ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆ ₴₳₣₳Ɽł ₳₦Đ ₮ⱤɎ ₮Ø ₮₳₭Ɇ Ⱨł₥ ₮Ø ɎØɄⱤ ₱Ⱡ₳₵Ɇ Ø₣ ⱤɆ₴łĐɆ₦₵Ɇ ₳₦Đ ₥₳₭Ɇ Ⱨł₥ ₳ ⱧØɄ₴Ɇ ₱Ɇ₮ ł₮ ₳ł₦’₮ ₲Øł₦₲ ₮Ø Ⱨ₳₱₱Ɇ₦ ₮Ⱨ₳₮’₴ ₮ⱧɆ ₮Ɏ₱Ɇ Ø₣ ₱ɆⱤ₴Ø₦ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ł ₳₥ ł’₥ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ⱠłØ₦ ɎØɄ ₵₳₦₦Ø₮ ₥₳₭Ɇ ₱ⱤØ₲ⱤɆ₴₴ ₩ł₮Ⱨ ɆӾ₵Ʉ₴Ɇ₴ ł Ⱨ₳₮Ɇ ɆӾ₵Ʉ₴Ɇ₴ ɆӾ₵Ʉ₴Ɇ₴ ɆӾ₵Ʉ₴Ɇ₴ ɆӾ₵Ʉ₴Ɇ₴ ₳ⱤɆ ₳ Đł₴Ɇ₳₴Ɇ ₴Ʉ₵Ⱨ ₳₴ ₮ⱧɆ ₱ØӾ ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ ₴Ɏ₱ⱧłⱠł₴ ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ Ɽł₦₲₩ØⱤ₥ ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ Đ₳₦ĐⱤɄ₣₣ ɎØɄ ĐØ₦’₮ ₲Ø ł₦₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ ₲₳₥Ɇ ₮Ø ₵Ø₥₱Ɇ₮Ɇ ɎØɄ ₲Ø ł₦₮Ø Ɇ₳₵Ⱨ ₲₳₥Ɇ ₮Ø ₩ł₦ ₩ł₦₦ł₦₲ ɆӾ₵Ʉ₴Ɇ₴ ɆVɆⱤɎ₮Ⱨł₦₲ ł ⱤɆ₴Ʉ₥Ɇ ₣ØⱤ ⱤɆ₳₴Ø₦₴ Ʉ₦₭₦Ø₩₦ ł₦ ₴₱ł₮Ɇ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆ ₮Ɇ₦₦ł₴ ₮ⱧɆ ₣₳₵₮₴ ₳ⱤɆ ₮ⱧɆⱤɆ ฿Ʉ₮ ₮ł₥Ɇ ₩łⱠⱠ ₮ɆⱠⱠ ł ⱤɆ₴Ʉ₥Ɇ ₳Ⱡ₳₴ ₳Ⱡ₳₴ Ø₦ Ø₦ ł₦ ₴ⱧØⱤ₮ ł₦ ₣ł₦Ɇ Ø₦ Ø₦ ₳฿ØĐɆ Ø₣ ₴₮Ø₦Ɇ₴ ₩ⱧØ ₵₳₦ ĐØɄ฿₮ ł₮ ł ⱤɆ₴Ʉ₥Ɇ ฿Ʉ₮ ₦Ø₮ ₴Ø ₣₳₴₮ ł ⱤɆ₴Ʉ₥Ɇ ₮ⱧɆ ₴₭ɄⱠⱠ ₣₳Đł₦₲ ₣₳Đł₦₲ ₣₳Đł₦₲ ₳₦Đ ₵Ø₦₵ɄⱤⱤɆ₦₮ⱠɎ ₴ł₥ɄⱠ₮₳₦ɆØɄ₴ⱠɎ Ʉ₦₣ł₦ł₴ⱧɆĐ

(TAWMMY and SULLY look on in absolute horror at the scene unfolding in front of them.)

 BELICHICK: (Grumbling) His hat! (TAWMMY seizes NEWTON’s hat. Silence of NEWTON. He falls. Silence. Panting of the victors.)

SULLY: Avenged! (TAWMMY examines the hat, peers inside it.)

BELICHICK: Give me that! (He snatches the hat from TAWMMY, throws it on the ground, tramples on it.) There’s an end to his questions! I think it best if we say adieu at this time.

TAWMMY: Say what now?

SULLY: He means he’s leavin’.

TAWMMY: He shoulda just said he was leavin’.

SULLY: He did say he was leavin’.

BELICHICK: (Grumbling) Adieu to you. (Exit.)

(The Patriots finish practise, and the team departs. The sun sets, and TAWMMY and SULLY once again find themselves alone at the edge of the lonely practise field. TAWMMY has picked up NEWTON’S dirty hat and put it on his own head.)

TAWMMY: That passed the time.

SULLY: It woulda passed in any case.

TAWMMY: Yeah, but not so quick. (Pause.)

SULLY: Whadda we do now?

TAWMMY: I dunno.

SULLY: Let’s go.

TAWMMY: We can’t.

SULLY: Why not?

TAWMMY: We’re waitin’ for-ah football.

SULLY: (despairingly) Ah! (Pause.)

TAWMMY: Howd’ya think the team will faiyah this year-ah?

SULLY: I think the team will be faiyah.

TAWMMY: Do you think we’ll have faiyah officiatin’?

SULLY: I expect ‘em to fayah very well.

TAWMMY: What about all the trainin’ camp holdouts?

SULLY: Ain’t holdin’ out hope for-ah those guys to change their-ah minds. Gonna be a tough loss.

TAWMMY: God, losing TOMMY FACKIN’ BRADY was a tough loss.

SULLY: Tough loss to the fackin’ Titans last year-ah.

TAWMMY: Still no tight end depth of note, either-ah.

SULLY: If thah fackin’ Bills ahh as good as they ahh sayin’, we’ll be in for a tight end to the season.

TAWMMY: Playoffs?

SULLY: Maybe a wild cahhd.

TAWMMY: That D’s gonna be made of wild cahhds. And GILLY!

SULLY: GILLY!

TAWMMY: What a fackin’ playah.

SULLY: 10-6?

TAWMMY: 9-7. (TAWMMY lights a cigarette and rips it in one puff.)

 SULLY: I just hope they ain’t dawgshit.

TAWMMY: We got it so fackin’ hahhd as Boston spahrts fans.

SULLY: THE FACKIN’ SAWX AHH ASS AND SHIT AND PISS! (SULLY pulls an unmarked bottle out of his back pocket and drains it in one gulp.)

 TAWMMY: (Furious) DON’T GET ME FACKIN’ STAHTED ABOUT HOW PISS THESE FACKS AHH. WORST YEAH SINCE BUCKNAH!

SULLY: And then the fackin’ BRUINS!

TAWMMY: (Even more furious) FACK! Tuuka and his fackin’ kids. He fackin’ leaves in the middle of a Cup run! What a punk.

SULLY: And then thah fackin’ CELTICS!

TAWMMY: (Seething with rage) HAYWAHD’S FACKIN’ ANKLE!

SULLY: THE WORLD IS FACKIN’ OUT TO GET US!

TAWMMY: NO ONE DENIES THIS!

SULLY: God, this is bullshit. I just wanna fackin’ end it all.

TAWMMY: We can’t.

SULLY: Why not?

TAWMMY: We’re waitin’ for-ah football.

 SULLY: (Despairingly) Ah! (Pause.)

(JARRET STIDHAM approaches the pair from a distance.)

TAWMMY: (To SULLY) Hey, I think we’ve seen this guy before-ah.

STIDHAM: Excuse me!

SULLY: Speak up, kid!

STIDHAM: Excuse me! Were you here watching practise?

TAWMMY: What of it?

STIDHAM: Well, uh…

SULLY: D’you got anything to tell us about the quatahbackin’ sitch, kid?

STIDHAM: Nope.

TAWMMY: D’you got anything to tell us about what you guys ahh gonna do as a team?

STIDHAM: Nope.

SULLY: Well then what ahh you doin’ ovah here, wastin time talkin’ to a bunch of dumb fackin’ micks like us when you could be out crushin’ puss left right and center-ah?

STIDHAM: Can’t do that either. Corona’s happening.

TAWMMY: (To Sully) Obviously, you gigantic fackin’ idiot.

SULLY: Well whadda you ovah here for, then?

STIDHAM: Coach says you gotta clear out. They’re locking up for the night.

TAWMMY: But when ahh you guys gonna play? Even a scrimmage?

STIDHAM: Don’t know. Tomorrow, we’re hoping.

SULLY: FACK!

STIDHAM: Guys, I gotta head out.

TAWMMY: Thanks, kid. Good luck with thah QB competition. (STIDHAM exits.)

SULLY: (Quietly) Tawmmy?

TAWMMY: Yeah.

SULLY: I can’t go on like this.

TAWMMY: That’s what you think.

SULLY: If we split? That might be bettah for us.

TAWMMY: We’ll hang owahselves tomorrow. (Pause.) Unless football comes.

SULLY: And if it comes?

TAWMMY: We’ll be saved. (He takes off his hat [NEWTON’s], peers inside it, feels about inside it, shakes it, knocks on the crown, puts it on again.)

SULLY: Well? Should we go?

TAWMMY: Yeah, let’s go. Don’t fahget youah shoes. (They do not move.)

(Curtain.)

***

With sincerest apologies and respect to Mr. Samuel Beckett for desecrating his masterpiece.