An anonymous scout has agreed to give a blacked-out, highly secretive, interview discussing the top-secret football weapon known as Florida Speed.
I heard some guys talking football. Now this is a pro town, mind you. They were talking wide receivers, talking speed. Talking World Class Speed, one of the most overused cliches in all of sports. Now, nothing was immune from the commentary and analysis of these guys. But quiz these guys and they will still be talking about the 100 yard dash. They’re behind the times, caught in the blocks. I wanted to speak up, but I had to bite my tongue. I wanted to talk and tell, to lecture and instruct, to enlighten and illuminate. To tell them about speed. It still sticks in my craw. Yeah, to tell them about speed.
Speed, baby. Real speed. We are talking about wheels. Gliding, you know it when you see it, bursting, blurring, acceleration. Not World Class Speed. Not Olympic Class Speed. No, real speed. Listen you greaseballs and let me tell you about Florida Speed. E-LEC-TRONIC. I’m talking track and gridiron. Shading 10 in the 100 meters. Powering a sub-13 in the 110 highs. I’d get my speed in Florida ANY DAY OF THE WEEK. Gold, flash, stash, cash and panache. When they’re even, they’re leavin.’ Florida Speed will be in the hunt every time.
HOT DAMN, I’m talking about gun-firing low out of the blocks and catching a flyer. Twenty meters out, smooth power is in. Fifty he’s upright and skating. TIME TO TAKE CARE OF BUSINESS. Flashes two gold teeth, diamond in one, question mark on the other. Devil tatoo, both biceps. Next lane, neck and neck. Play fair, now. Love and war. Hard, hard, hard, spike to the foot. Yells, “GET SOME.” A hard elbow, high and wide. That guy falls, taking out the lane next to him, and that guy steps on his head. Spiked again and a nasty gash. Oh, man, I would laugh, except he had to go to the hospital.
Anyway, back to my man. Florida Speed. Florida Oranges, whatever. An even leavin’ man. Oh, yeah, another guy fell on his own. Trifecta. My guy wins. No kidding, Sherlock. Mobile, hostile and agile. A ten framer. Gridiron Magic. The ultimate 40. Indoor 50, double-nickle, 60, break tape and pound some wall. It’s like an airplane. Junior’s a body freak. Do you think I could play in the NFL? I’ve got my own helmet. Heh, heh.
I love that Florida Speed. Texas and California aren’t bad either. Don’t even get me started. Cool-guy your way in, walk away with a Benz. Miami Nice. Later on they called my guy a “LANE VIOLATOR.” What’s up with that? Audacity and a win jerk. That DQ doesn’t stand for Dairy Queen. Oh, snap. The violator. Who cares?