Packers Press Conference - Shuggy addresses media

[Shuggy-Packers]

Shuggy arrived at the lectern carrying a water bottle and a sheet of paper folded into quarters.
He set the bottle down, checked the cap, and tightened it again.
“Before anybody asks, yes, I’ve watched the fumble.”

Gordy Blatz of the Green Bay Gridiron Gazette lowered his hand.

“Sixty times,” Shuggy continued. “On viewing sixty-one, I expect the ball to develop loyalty.”

Nobody laughed immediately. Several reporters checked whether anybody else was laughing.

“Good room today.”

In the front row, Tessa Hart opened her notebook. Thirty-four, blonde, and wearing a navy suit that looked considerably better prepared for television than anything behind the lectern, the Bayfront Sports Desk reporter had already drawn the attention of two camera operators.

Shuggy looked directly at her.

Then continued looking.

His communications director cleared his throat.

“Coach. Gordy.”

“Unfortunately,” Shuggy said, returning to the left side of the room.

“PNFL News called the Washington finish bad coaching. You had a lead, roughly a minute twenty remaining, and Washington had no timeouts. Why are you handing the ball off?”
Shuggy unfolded his paper.

“Excellent. We’ve established the score, the time, and the timeout situation. Did anybody establish what the profile can actually account for?”

Blatz tapped his pen against his notebook.

“I’m asking you.”

“Already a step ahead of the podcast.”

A few people laughed.

Tessa raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“Could you explain the limitation?”

“Absolutely.”

He smiled at her. She waited.

“Today, ideally,” she added.

The room broke properly this time.

Shuggy turned toward a whiteboard and wrote ONE TO TWO MINUTES. Underneath, he wrote OPPONENT TIMEOUTS, followed by three large question marks.

“The winning profile covers a window. One to two minutes. It cannot make the decision based on how many timeouts the opponent has remaining.”

He tapped the question marks.

“Apparently this portion of the research didn’t survive the editorial process.”
“But Washington had zero,” Blatz said.

“Yes. We know that. Looking back at that exact situation, kneeling could have exhausted the remaining minute twenty. I’m not disputing arithmetic. Arithmetic has enough problems without getting involved in this league.”He underlined the question marks.“I have to build something that also handles the version where there’s closer to two minutes left and the other coach still has all three.”

Tessa leaned forward.

“So walk us through that version.”

Shuggy faced her and rested both hands on the lectern.

“Gladly.”

There was another pause.

Behind him, his communications director made a small circular motion with one finger.

“Coach. Walk.”

“Right. We kneel. Timeout. We kneel. Timeout. We kneel. Timeout. Now we’re punting, and depending on where we entered that window, we can be giving them the football with up to a minute left.”
He pointed at Blatz.

“And next week you’re sitting there asking why I voluntarily burned three downs and handed Washington another possession.”

“That would depend on the result.”

Shuggy stared at him. Several pens stopped.

“Well,” Shuggy said, “I appreciate you saving us twenty minutes.”

From the back row, Len Pabst of Titletown After Dark raised a recorder.

“The podcast hosts called it a blunder.”
“Did they discuss the profile limitation?”
“They said you should have taken a knee.”
“Did they discuss the profile limitation?”
“They spent quite a while on the fumble.”
“Yes. It was very visible. Big brown object. Wrong people ended up with it.”
Pabst lowered the recorder slightly.

Shuggy took a drink. “You can spend forty minutes explaining how a man should have used a button. Somewhere around minute thirty-nine, I’d recommend checking whether he has that button.”

“So you don’t believe in kneeling?” Blatz asked.

Shuggy put the bottle down. “I have the knee at fifteen seconds. Always have. It’s in the profile. You’re welcome to investigate that. Wear a hat that says PRESS if it helps.”

Tessa tapped her pen once.

“You still chose the runs.”

“Yes.”

“And the ball came out.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s yours?”

Shuggy’s smile disappeared. “The decision is mine. The profile is mine. We lost, and I’m the head coach. I don’t get to keep the good outcomes and forward the ugly ones to technical support.” For a moment, only the ventilation hummed, then he lifted the marker again.

“I’ll take my chances with a few inside runs there. Protect the ball. Make them stop us. Give ourselves a chance to move the chains. That carries risk. So does giving them another possession. You build for the situations your profile has to handle.”

“And Murphy’s Law?” asked Pabst.

“Fully operational.”

“What can go wrong will go wrong?”

“There it is. Funny when somebody says it over a bong. Less charming when it’s rolling around on the green pixels.”

He glanced at the replay monitor, where the ball remained frozen halfway between two players.

“I laughed when it happened. What else are you going to do? Reach into the screen? It’s still funny. Horrible, but funny. Murphy apparently bought season tickets.”

Tessa smiled. Shuggy caught it and held her gaze long enough for Blatz to look between them.

“Coach?”

“I heard you.”

“I haven’t asked anything.”

“Then we’re both doing well.”

Pabst leaned toward the reporter beside him. “Never saw him this distracted by a Vikings cheerleader.”

Tessa didn’t turn around. “The cheerleader probably didn’t ask him to explain his profile.”

Shuggy pointed toward the front row. “See? Preparation.”

Blatz consulted his notes. “The guest coach suggested the difference between Jerry and Shuggy showed up in that finish.”
Shuggy slowly screwed the bottle cap back on.

“Jerry’s earned his respect. He doesn’t need somebody polishing it with my fumble.”

“You don’t think there’s a fair comparison?”

“Compare the preparation. Compare the decisions with the options available. If Jerry has taught this profile to count opposing timeouts, have him call me. I’ll bring a notebook and an apology.”

Pabst grinned.

“Any message for Dan in Cincinnati?”

Shuggy looked into the nearest camera and arranged his face into the solemn expression of a man announcing a state visit.

“Next time I visit my grand kids, I will look you in the eye, grab your collar, then headbutt you.”

The room erupted.

He held the expression until even his communications director gave up.

“Tell Dan that’s the theatrical version. The actual confrontation involves finding somewhere to sit with Dean and arguing about who parked closer.”

“Will there be film review?”

“Of the parking? Absolutely. PNFL News will establish I should have reversed in.”

Tessa raised her hand again. “What do you tell the people who are tired of hearing that Green Bay is almost there?”

Shuggy looked at her. This time, when the silence stretched, nobody interrupted. “The Packers are close. I know it, and a few of you know it.”

Tessa tilted her head. “Close is one thing, Coach. When do you prove it?”

“Tonight. Against the Viking cheerleader.”

Blatz looked up.

“You mean Minnesota?”

“If they’ve finished their routine, yes.”

A few reporters laughed. Shuggy leaned toward the microphones. “The Packers will prove it tonight. Bring your notebooks. I’d hate for another important detail to miss the podcast.”

From somewhere near the back, a phone began playing the opening of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.”

Pabst’s grin faded into recognition. “You played that on the way to a league championship.”

Shuggy let the music run. Around the room, the older reporters grin. Then he looked straight into the camera.

“Sleep with one eye open.”

Tessa held his gaze. “Is that your message to Minnesota?”

“That one was actually for Minnesota, yes.”

The laughter rolled through the room. Shuggy waited for it to settle.

“You’ve seen enough football to recognize what we’re building. I’m not asking you to enjoy losing. I didn’t enjoy it either. I’m asking you to watch this team with the same attention you gave the ball coming loose.”

Blatz began another question, then looked down at his notes instead.

The communications director checked his watch. “Fifteen seconds.”

Tessa closed her notebook. “You’ve spent about that long making eye contact with me between answers.”

“Good coverage,” Shuggy said. “Difficult to get away from.”

“Can you manage the clock from here?”

He glanced at the watch, then back at her. “Finally,” he said, “a situation I’ve got a profile for.”

Shuggy stepped out from behind the lectern and took a knee.

The cameras clicked. Blatz raised his hand.

Shuggy pointed at the clock.

“No timeouts, Gordy.”

[Dean-Atlanta]

Join us on Discord tonight and watch Shuggy and his Packers do some things...

GB-sacks-daniels (1).jpg (228.24 KiB) Viewed 15 times

[Dean-Atlanta]

They'll sack Jayden Daniels so hard he will shed his skin and uniform like a snake and come out wearing another one! Got to love AI!