Brief Interviews With Hideous Men: Aaron Rodgers, New Jet & {Frequent Flyer}

Catching the last flight out of LAX was a lucky break. But learning at the gate that they’d overbooked coach and had bumped me to first-class? Priceless! Finally, a red eye on which I might actually be able to fall asleep.

Supplier meetings had gone well. There were reports to write. But it was late, and I was tired. As we shuffled onto the Airbus A340, the plush window seat called to me. I felt myself giggle. Oh yeah. I so would be sleeping on this flight.

With the aircraft lights dimmed, I tucked away my computer bag, closed my eyes and slipped off my shoes. The long stream of boarders slowed, then stopped. And despite the overbooking, the first-class seat to my right remained empty.

The pilot’s voice, adjusted for the darkened lights and the late hour, quietly informed us of a delay.

******

I awoke to the sound of bags hitting the overhead, and a tall, strangely familiar presence looming. The tall man with big, hollow eyes and a stubbled chin took his seat, and I was certain it was the actor, Jake Gyllenhaal. This was L.A. after all. As Jake settled in, I found myself awake and sitting up, my mind cycling through ideas for how to strike up casual conversation, trying to remember specific movies to reference. He shot me a quick smile, almost a smirk.

Finally the pilot’s voice returned.

“Sorry, folks, for the delay, we had to wait for a very important passenger who’s headed back to the Big Apple to lead my beloved New York Jets. Wanna welcome Aaron Rodgers aboard tonight. Aaron… no pressure buddy, but we’re counting on you this year.”

The pilot let out a self-amused chuckle.

. “Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff… and GO JETS!”

An icy chill ran through me. It cannot be.

Aaron Rodgers. The guy who drained every ounce of joy from my football fandom for the last dozen years, who made me scream at the TV and cry myself to sleep and go to therapy. The NFL’s first actual warlock. My heart pounded. I couldn’t draw a breath.

“Nice shirt.”

This time he shot me an unmistakable, full-on smirk as he slid papers and electronics into the seat pocket. I looked down, remembering I’d changed into my Chicago Bears t-shirt just prior to boarding. What a dick! Despite being traded away from our arch-enemy Green Bay Packers, this asshole still thinks he owns me.

I felt myself about to hiss.

“As I live and breathe… the Antichrist cometh.” I genuflected for effect. It was the best I could come up with in the moment.

Rodgers’s laugh was deep. His intense eyes landed on me. The Dark Lord’s smile was disarming, absent any trace of malice. He extended both hands to grasp mine.

“You and I are gonna have a great flight together. I can feel it.” He leaned in. “Tell me your name.”

I replied meekly. His huge hands enveloped my limp ones. Almost immediately, I lost the ability to focus on all the pain he caused in my life. Instead of considering potential conversations, I could only see the present moment we were in. His speaking energy was disarming. Completely unfatigued, he asked me about me, my family, and my business in L.A. He’d just swung through Northern California to visit friends, then met up with his agent in Santa Monica. As we got airborne and continued talking, he maintained eye contact and listened carefully. Every word out of his mouth seemed intentional and precise.

I felt wholly unprepared for my first encounter with a real-life sorcerer.

“Aaron… I never considered the possibility of meeting you and what I might say. Can I speak freely?”

“Please.” The screen in the seat showed five-and-a-half hours of flight time. The plane was dark and quiet, but sleep was now off my to-do list. Our voices remained low.

“I need to get some painful things off my chest.” I paused. “I wanna talk about 4th and 8.”

The great cheese shaman laughed so hard, several sleepers in first class stirred.

“Okay, sure.”

He smiled and reached for his bag under the seat. “Let’s heal.”

I took him back to December of 2013. My Bears had led the NFC North all year, having knocked Rodgers out of a game earlier in the season. We had real weapons that year and won a lot of games early as Green Bay floundered. But then Chicago began to flounder, and Rodgers’s replacements somehow kept the Packer’s boat afloat. It would all come down to the final week. Rodgers would return to the lineup to play the final game against the Bears in Chicago, with the winner taking the division.

My Bears played strong and held an eight-point lead with 5 minutes to play. But Rodgers would execute cunning play after play after cunning play, leading his team down the field.

Aaron smiled while I rambled, now having donned a tie-dyed bandanna around his head. Two teacups were set on his pull-out tray. He poured something from a small bottle into both cups.

“I remember the exact moment I knew you were, in fact, the Antichrist.”

Aaron handed me a cup. “As we continue your healing journey, let us drink this.”

“What is it?”

“Ayahuasca tea. It will help us see all that is true.”

I flinched. This was just too weird. The witch doctor sensed my hesitation and pressed. “Don’t worry. I drink it all the time. It’s legal.” He stared that powerful, hypnotic stare. “Can you trust me?”

I was putty in the hands of the Master.

I sipped the tea, cool and sweet.

And as he drank his, I closed my eyes, tuning into my body for signs of a reaction. I felt peaceful. Soon, every single play of that game came back to me clearly, the details all in living color as if it had just happened.

“You were on our 13-yard line, third and long. We still led by eight. Just inside of 4 minutes. Jordy Nelson went in motion left. Both our safeties were up.”

We both faced forward, eyes closed. I felt Aaron grasp my right hand. “Yes, I sent the lone back out to occupy Mike,” he referenced Mike ___, the Bears’ middle linebacker. I’d hoped both safeties would break outside.”

“But one didn’t, right Aaron?”

“Keep going.”

“You wanted the end zone dagger, but both wides were covered. Nelson crossing shallow in the middle was the third option, but Chris Conte was literally draped all over him.

“Yes, that was the situation.”

“But you threw it anyway. The guy who never forces a ball into that kind of coverage just threw it anyway. That pass was the most certain interception of my lifetime.”

“It did seem that way, didn’t it.”

“What did you know, Aaron? Or, let me rephrase the question. What did you do… what spell did you cast that made that ball sail through Conte’s wide-open arms? Like a bullet with a clean entry and exit hole, it passed right through his body and into the waiting, completely obstructed arms of Jordy Nelson?”

Aaron’s eyes were shut as if in a deepening trance. And then he began to rock and hum.

“Oh great and powerful spirit of the universe. Let all that we experience in this great life journey be Your will.”

Pure terror shivered through me, like in the final moments of The Blair Witch Project.

And then Aaron turned to me, and he laughed out loud. “Dude! I’m kidding.” He reached towards me. “Relax. Look, I’ll give you the real story. Should never have let that one go. Truth is, I just got lucky. Your boys sucked for years, but that time, I got away with one. Tough break for Bears fans. I still laugh about it.”

From that moment, the end was a foredrawn conclusion. Even the Packer’s improbable 4th and 8, Rodgers’s impossible escape from a collapsed pocket, the touchdown throw to Cobb all alone in the end zone. I’d long forgotten what I broke, who I offended or how long I cried that night.

I do remember calling a therapist, and starting a year-long search for my mental health.

“I’m sorry I triggered you.” It must have been written all over my face.

“Can you really look me in the eye and tell me you don’t use black magic or shit like that?”

Rodgers shook his head, like he’d had this conversation before.

“I’ll tell you what is for real. This ayahuasca tea. It brings real clarity.” He paused to take stock of me.

“How do you feel right now?”

“Actually, pretty damn good.”

“See. It’s the real deal. And getting that off your chest helped. But here’s what you should really think about. Football is what I do. I take it extremely seriously, and I do it better than just about anybody. This little game we play is competitive. Make no mistake that everybody who gets to this level is very good at what they do. Some do it just for the money, which is considerable. I do it to play at a level above all others. I really, really love winning.”

He took a drink from a water bottle, then continued.

“But here’s the most important thing for you to appreciate. Dude, if you’re not actually playing, this is all nothing more than mindless entertainment. Like goin’ to the movies or a Taylor Swift concert. It’s just a game with a ball and some athletes trying to move it across a line. The league loves guys like you. You pay top dollar for tickets, you watch it religiously on TV, you play in fantasy leagues, and buy the jerseys. Hell, you guys pay for everything. Without you, I’d be doing this in a park somewhere with a bunch of drunks and a Nerf ball. So allow me to thank you for that.” He said it all without even a hint of snark or insincerity.

Perhaps it was the herbal tea. Or had the serpent conjured yet another spell to trick me? As Aaron reached for his headphones and scrolled his phone, I let his words settle.

Of course this was all true. How could I carry this misplaced anger around for so long?

I felt lighter.

Freer.

******

I awoke from a cat nap to find Aaron reading what looked like a playbook.

I could see his focused intensity, a red pen jotting detailed notes all over the margins. I no longer saw an evil sorcerer, but a very hard-working, uniquely talented professional, elevating his craft.

I tapped him on the shoulder, and he removed his left earbud.

“You’re right. About all of it. You don’t own me, and you never owned me.”

Aaron smiled. “Exactly. Congratulations! You’re healed.” He pretended to shake holy water on me. I pretended to get wet from the water. We shared a moment.

“Just one more thing. You seem like a smart and insightful person. So why have you been so publicly vocal about things that are knowably false, dangerous, and just batshit crazy?”

My new friend’s huge eyes narrowed. I continued.

“Telling people not to get vaccinated. Promoting dangerous medications. Declaring 9/11 a “hoax.” Saying UFOs were launched by the government to distract us from finding out who ran around with Jeffery Epstein.”

He was getting mad; I could see it.

“Look, you’re a brilliant quarterback, maybe the best ever. I can’t forgive you for spoiling my fan experience because there is nothing to forgive. You earned all your success because you understand this game better than anyone. But you are not an expert on the complexities of modern medicine and science. I think you believe your wisdom for football translates to all things. It doesn’t. It’s reckless. And people can be hurt by it.”

He stared at me for a long time, thinking.

“That’s all I wanted to say about that.” I put on my headphones and curled up in the dark, towards the window.

******

“Good morning from the cockpit…” The pilot’s voice let us know we’d be touching down soon. I glanced over at Aaron, still studying his papers, not looking over. A coldness lingered between us. Soon, the plane jolted as it touched the runway. We turned on our phones and silently gathered our things as we taxied.

And then Aaron turned to me. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

“Look, I didn’t mean any…”

“What am I doing?” Aaron started pretending to jam his hands into his hips, like a cowboy.

“I have no idea.”

“Dude, it’s my discount double-check. I’m hurt you don’t recognize it.”

And then I did remember. Those ridiculous State Farm Insurance commercials. “Oh yeah.”

“Does anybody who sees me in those commercials actually think I’m an expert in actuarial science?”

“No, but…”

“So I’ve been thinking about what you said. And here it is. I’m a free thinker, and I think everybody should be a free thinker. That doesn’t mean they should buy my insurance, or medicate the way I do, or not medicate the way I don’t. They decide for themselves. We all have complete agency. But, I can say whatever I want about anything.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, but here’s the thing. Most people are not as grounded as you. A lot of us are impressionable, susceptible to taking mental shortcuts and just thinking what someone more influential tells us to think. And that group only expands as the ability to manipulate people gets more sophisticated. Influential people like you need to be careful with all their “free thinking.”

The first-class passengers began debarking as Aaron stood up in the aisle and pulled his bag from the overhead. Then he looked at me.

“I will think on that. I will.” He paused. “I’m very glad we met.”

“Me, too. I feel liberated. You’re not a warlock, but an amazing human being. And I may actually be rooting for you in New York this year. Never thought I’d ever say that out loud.”

And then Aaron Rodgers placed his hand on my forehead, looked up to the sky, and tapped me three times. He then repeated this incantation.

“Oh great and powerful spirit of the universe. May it be Your divine will to at long last remove the eternal curse I summoned upon the Chicago Bears. Let them again compete without Your divine heel pressed upon their throat.”

He smiled, winked at me, and like an apparition or a puff of smoke, he disappeared.