So I'm sitting on the couch yesterday afternoon earlier and I receive a call from an unfamiliar area code. Per usual, I sent the call to voicemail and didn't think much of it. A little while later, I decided to check my missed calls, of which there had been a few. As I got to the second message I heard an unfamiliar, yet extremely gruff voice say, "Hey Cumstain. I don't know who the fuck you are but I heard you were writing about me on the internet. This is Todd Bouman, call me back at (number redacted) and we'll talk. That is, if you're not too busy sucking some other dude's dick."
That was it. Obviously, I was shocked. How did Todd Bouman find out about last week's post? Furthermore, how the hell did he get my cell phone number?
I wasn't sure how to approach the situation so I waited until after I'd had a few drinks to call back. Within seconds I heard the voice from the message on the other end. It was Todd Bouman, I'd know that voice anywhere. I quickly asked him if I could tape our conversation. "Do whatever the fuck you want dickwad...just make sure this shit gets on your blog", he said. I tried to explain to him it wasn't exactly my blog. He quickly cut me off, "Shut the fuck up and listen asshole. I'm only talking to you because you can get my story out there. I don't want to know the details of your pathetic little life. Just fucking shut up and let me talk."
With that, Bouman started talking about teammates, opponents and, as he put it, "the fucking disrespect I've been shown throughout my decade in the National Football League". What follows are some of the highlights (Ed. Note: I've edited out any of my responses b/c Bouman just told me to shut the fuck up whenever I did anyway):
Daunte Culpepper: Dumbest fucking guy I ever met. He once tried to eat that chili pepper pendant of his on a dare. Said something like, 'I don't really even like peppers but shit, I can afford a new one.' He and Cris Carter would sit around and pretend to read the Bible but everybody knew neither of those waterhead motherfuckers could read. Fuck, Daunte could barely tie his shoes. He would just keep them tied and slide his feet in and out of his cleats everyday. One game, his shoe came untied in the huddle and he called two timeouts. Two. The first to ask our OC what to do and the second so Korey Stringer could help him with the bow. Fucking Stringer had been dead for 4 months already! Good God, what a mess. The only guy I ever met who was more clueless than Daunte was John Randle. But Randle used to sneak up behind people and pistol whip them with his cock, so I always thought he was pretty cool. Guy fucking broke Jake Reed's nose once...
Randy Moss: The only guy in the entire Viking organization who could find his dick with both hands, excluding Randle, obviously. He hated Daunte even more than I did. Randy and I used to always call Daunte "prison baby" in the locker room. One day at the team facility we did it for an entire film session...wouldn't you know it, the fucking twat started crying right there in front of the team. Of course, I'm not gonna put up with that bullshit, this is the NF-Fucking-L. So I walked over there and punched Daunte right in his fat fucking face, called him prison bitch. Ha! See what I did there? Anyway, I got released not too long after that. Whatever. Like I wanted to spend my whole life in Minnesota anyway. Right after I got traded, Randy told me he was gone too. No way was he gonna play for a shit box franchise like Minnesota for the rest of his career, he said. It took a while and he had butt fuck Tice's daughter once, well twice...he was smart enough to tape it the second time, but he got his ass out of there too, eventually.
Aaron Brooks: Man, I felt bad for Randy when he got sent out to Oakland. I mean, first off, its fucking Oakland. You ever been there? Its straight out of a motherfucking Mad Max movie or some shit. I swear to god I saw Tina Turner out there working the streets one time. I'll feed that bitch a piece of my cake...right? Anyway, I tried to tell Randy to get out of there immediately. That he should hit another traffic cop or something. Maybe get arrested beating off in his car like Eddie Griffin did that one time. Man, now that motherfucker could party. One time, me, him and Fred Smoot got these hookers...and...oh right...Aaron Brooks. Just a complete fucking space cadet. He had a pack of pit bulls. Like a dozen of them. He wasn't running a fighting ring or anything though. He was training them all for the Great Outdoor Games!?! I shit you not. He always talked about how Pit Bulls were these great natural athletes that had been oppressed historically by white people and how they would take over the 'dog sports' once they were given the proper training and competitive advantages. I think he was trying to make it some grand social statement, but I mean c'mon asshole, its a bunch of dogs. He didn't care though, thats all he did was work with those dogs. He wouldn't throw extra to Joe Horn until Joe would agree to take some of Aaron's dogs out to the dock to workout. I don't know if Aaron was crazy, stupid or just high on glue like Haslett always was but he was seriously fucked in the head. Nobody was as bad as Haslett though, that fucking meathead would do the weirdest shit I ever saw. He once picked up a cockroach off the floor and ate it at the end of his pregame speech. How the fuck is that supposed to fire me up? Deuce ended up throwing up all over the place. It was fucking disgusting.
Okay...thats it for now. I have a ton of other material from Bouman's phone call that I still need to listen to and eventually edit. He speaks candidly about David Garrard, Jack Del Rio, Brett Favre and a number of other topics. Honestly, this conversation went on for most of the second half of the Wisconsin-Fresno State game and, by that time, I was pretty drunk. Hope you enjoyed this inside look at the NFL. Enjoy today's Week 2 slate and I'll see you in the comments.