My interview with the Savior.

After eating an entire jar of peanut butter with a spoon and washing it down with a Phil-bomb (Jameson’s and Red Bull), I used my “wings” to put up the Christmas lights on the porch (all three white strands).  I then experienced the Phil-bomb crash, passed out, and proceeded to have  the craziest dream.

After the Penguins somehow lost the Stanley Cup to the Denver Broncos coached by Tony LaRussa, I finally jumped of the Roberto Clemente bridge naked as I’ve often threatened to do, and plummeted to my death.  At least I thought it was my death.

 I opened my eyes and found myself in an elevator that stopped at the 87^th and top floor of some building.  I exited the elevator and before me was a trophy case with six Lombardi trophies, three Stanley Cups (yes I know there is just one.) and five World Series trophies.  To my right was a beautiful mahogany desk/counter where Mariah Carey sat in a Santa’s helper outfit complete with hat. She was apparently the information director of the building.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Well, I was wondering what you wanted for Christmas.” Not even a smile. Really? I thought that was funny. I continue, “Do I have an appointment?”

“Yes the Lord will see you now.”

“The L—   What? Is this about –”

“Mr. Macioce, we have a tight schedule here. First door on your left.”

“Ok” I took a step but turned back, “Hey I regularly play your music at bars at awkward moments. You should see –“

“First door on the left.”

Geez…. I entered the first room on the left, a small glaringly white room, with a white desk and chairs.   

I nervously took a seat.  The Musak version of Highway to Hell by AC/DC played quietly from the ceiling speaker.  Moments later Tim Tebow walked in with a file folder under one arm and the Heisman trophy in his hand.

“Good afternoon Phil.”

After a pause I replied, “Woah…are you really--?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

I laughed nervously. I wasn’t used to meeting celebrities. “Wow. Tim Tebow! This is crazy.”

“Phil. I’m Jesus.”

I laughed.  Tim/Jesus did not. “You were expecting Sidney Crosby perhaps?” he asked.

“Wait. I don’t understand. Am I-? Is this-?”

“Heaven. This is your interview.”

“My - - I don’t just go in?”

“We’ll see…” Tim.. er… Jesus still wasn’t smiling. This wasn’t good. He sat and opened my folder. Various charts, papers, and pictures shuffled out. Was that a picture of….? Oh no……

“Some call me “miraculous”  Some call me a “winner”  Some call me the savior of the NFL. Who do YOU say that I am?”

“Is this a trick question?”

No response.

“Do you have a facebook page…uh….Jesus?”

“You haven’t “friended” me yet Phil. I have 3.5 billion friends. You’re not one. My news feed has you saying –“

“Wait! I only meant…” Did I just interrupt Jesus Christ? This wasn’t going well.

“You said – and I quote: A winner? He’s not even good. He hasn’t beaten anyone”

“Well cmon Jesus….the Chiefs, Vikings….-“

“I beat the Jets.”

“YOU beat the Jets? Wasn’t there a defensive TD in that game?”    SHUT UP PHIL. YOU’RE ARGUING WITH THE LORD FOR TIM’S SAKE!

“This here is a Heisman Trophy,” he patted the award. "How many people can say they won this?"

“Troy Smith. Jason White. Andre Ware. Eric Crouch. Chris Weinke…….”

Awkward silence.

“Look….Jesus…..I’m just saying..someone like Ben is a winner. He’s won Super Bowls. Fought through injury. He just gets it done.”

“Like he did in Georgia last summer?”

“Ok…ya…well…..I’m not condoning…..shit……er…CRAP…..can we start over?”

He looked down at my file. “It says here you’ve sited Crosby as Jesus 74 times.”

“Cmon that’s just a figure of –“

“Ben is God? Really Phil?”

“Well…not with a capital G….”

“And let’s talk about the night Sid Bream scored the game winning run in the 1992 NLCS.”

I nearly choked. “Can we not?......”

“And according to this chart you have the Western Pennsylvania record for uses of the F bomb.”

I put my head in my hands. A big screen TV appeared. Jesus grabbed a remote. “Shall we watch your life?”

“What!?!!?......ALL of it?? Is there a Scene Selection option…or like Bonus Features? Can I pick?.......”

A still image of me screaming at a TV appeared with PLAY> as the only option.

“Shit.” I muttered. “Sorry.”

Still no smile from Christ. I’m done, I thought.  I made the Florida Gator chomping gesture with my arms….still….no smile. Man…did anyone smile up here?  Jesus Christ pressed PLAY.

Hours later after the show Tim/Jesus arose (well not arose with a capital A…he just got up). He walked around the desk to shake my hand and finally smiled. I had no idea if it was a “you’re in” smile or a “you’re so screwed.” smile.

“You’re transportation is downstairs Mr. Macioce. We’ll be in touch.”
“We..??”

But then he was gone.

I walked out past the desk. Mariah was playing Solitare on the computer. Her song HERO was playing….but the words were, “And then a TEBOW comes along…..”

I walked over the elevator and took it down to the first floor.  A limo was waiting outside. I walked up to it. The driver gently ushered me passed the limo and directed me to a Hundai Elantra… 2002. “This is your ride sir. Raymond will be taking you”

“Taking me where?” I asked. He just walked back to the limo.

I got into the Elantra my stomach in knots. Where was I going? I looked up and saw that the back of my drivers head was rather large. I asked, “Where to boss?”

Ray Lewis slowly turned around and gave his biggest smile. Alexander Ovechkin got into the other side and slid in next to me…..a smile equally wide with one less tooth than Mr. Lewis.

Shit…….Game over. Tebow wins again.