NFL Speakeasy Stories: Sunsets

Libertine, Downtown. 2:47 am, November 27th, 2018 Fortune Favors the Bold. Or so she had been told. But she had been told many things. She had been told that it was what was on the inside that counts. She had also been told that being an NFL wife would be a wonderful life

NFL Speakeasy Stories: Operation Mockingbird

The Violet Hour, Wicker Park. 2:47 am, April 18th, 2016 Seated about a corner table, two men in the house-featured oversized wingback chairs sit in silence. While the parties at the other tables provide atmosphere and energy to the capacity room, the two men appear disinterested in all of the establishment, their

NFL Holiday Stories: A Christmas Carol

Mother Lode, WeHo. 2:47 am, December 26th, 2017 A single patron enters the bar, immediately swiveling his head in all directions to ascertain the conditions of his surroundings, the young man immediately notices two things. First, the bar is decked out in festive -- though slightly different than his own tastes

NFL Speakeasy Stories: COINTELPRO

PX, Old Town Alexandria. 2:47 am, September 7th, 2017 In the waning hours of another humid summer work night, the bartender turning down the business grimaced when the door opened and an older gentleman came shifting through the entrance. No doubt, this old timer couldn't sleep and thought to himself that

NFL Speakeasy Stories: No Mean City

Libertine, Chatham Arch. 2:47 am, February 28th, 2017 Stepping in from the biting cold where his head was exposed to the incessant rain that surely planned to torment him through this week's work trip, James Cook could only imagine how much of a glowing red beacon his balding head would be at a place like

NFL Speakeasy Stories: Since Forever

Libertine, Downtown. 2:47 am, September 18th, 2016 Since Forever. The words non-mockishly running below the bar name printed on the drink napkins in lieu of a conventional "Establish Year X", Charlie Whitehurst could only chuckle to himself. This place had not been around forever, and he should know. For a Sunday night, the crowd was dead.

NFL Speakeasy Stories: Amor Fati

Honor Amongst Thieves, Uptown. 2:47 am, August 11th, 2016 "To Larry!" In unison, "TO LARRY!" With a sarcastic sense of modesty "Oh ok. To me." Larry Fitzgerald wasn't a comedian but he was a likable individual and one the NFL's truly good guys; and the roaring applause to his response was proof. Drafted by Arizona in 2004,

NFL Speakeasy Stories: Project Manhigh

Green Russell, Larimer Square. 2:47 am, August 9th, 2016 Standing behind the back bar, two mixologists are silently bickering about the cell phone use of the patron seated in the corner booth. Though he has been a model customer, paying cash and tipping his waitress with every round -- each time promising that,

NFL Speakeasy Stories: A Connivance

Upstairs at Studio 54, Manhattan. 2:47 am, June 26th, 1999 "Paul, I'm going to be straight with you. I just simply don't see the numbers adding up. It seemed like a lot of optimistic assumptions when you first requested bids and, quite frankly, my opinion about the NFL's rosy outlook of the apparel

NFL Speakeasy Stories: 400 gon

When there is nowhere else to go.... Angel’s Share, East Village. 2:47 am, January 4th, 2016 The reverberation of the celebratory fireworks subsided 45 minutes ago. The final revelers exited 30 minutes ago. And the house lights would shut themselves down in 3...2... "One...And click." His voice echoed. Tonight would be the same as every since

NFL Speakeasy Stories: True Inspiration

A Nondescript Contemporary Hotel Bar, 3rd Level. 2:47 am, October 19, 2015. A ginger-haired Princeton man sits at the bar on the corner stool nursing a Perrier and cucumber. He takes a sip and is jerked up straight, sucking on his tongue and drawing back his lips with a grimace. He does not typically bastardize the taste of his

NFL Speakeasy Stories: History Repeating

Wilson & Wilson, The Tenderloin. 2:47 am, September 30, 2015. A man sits alone in the center booth of the bar-within-a-bar, waiting patiently for his appointment. From the Bayou to the Bay, it had been less that 17 hours since his colleague (well, former colleague these days, he supposed) called and asked that