I like to imagine this is how the conversation went at table 20 that night:
Easterby: “Hey Nick, it’s good to see you, you old so and so!”
Nick: “Oh, hi. How’s Houston?”
E: “Amazing! I went to be the team chaplain and next thing I know I’m in charge of reshaping the whole organization. What a screwy place! It’s no wonder we’ve never won anything of significance. But still, the paychecks are nice and those Texas girls... know what I mean? Anyway, how are things with Ball-Busting Bill?”
N: “Ugh. He’s been showing the whole team videos of me signing Veldheer to a contract, only to see him retire like three minutes later. He says, ‘I’ll bet Nick, the towel boy from Foxboro High could do a better job signing free agents.’ And all those posts from patsfans.com posters about my terrible drafts.”
E: “Yeah, remember after Josh Gordon had his relapse, he put my sermons on the big board and asked Marissa Tomei to diagnose my sentence structure.”
N: “And you’d think with all the practices I’ve helped out, maybe I could win practice player of the week just once!”
E: “Well, maybe you should think about leaving? Oh, Nick, did I say something?”
N: “No, why?”
E: “Oh, for a second there, your eyes seemed to get really big.”
N: “Uh, that’s nothing.”
E: “Right... uh, look, I have to go make a phone call. We’ll... I mean I’ll be in touch.”
N: “No, really, that’s just my normal eyes!”
E: “Right...right... (on phone) Hey Brian, you’re fired. ... huh? This is Jack... yes, the team chaplain. We met at the photo shoot. Anyway, pack your bags... no, this isn't a prank call... I have someone better here who is clearly interested. I could see it in his eyes.”
