From http://msn.foxsports.com/story/3152594
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Joining Ricky in the ranks of the unemployed, Wannstedt — according to rumors we can't substantiate — has tracked down his former running back.
The website servicing Esquire magazine currently features a profile of Williams that was fashioned after the author visited Ricky in Australia. According to the story, Ricky happened to be living it up in a sprawling tent community, allegedly smoking his share of weed and washing it down with vegetable juice.
Tent-village activities included poker, meaningful dialogue with someone named Mystic Steve and very little football film study.
Using this lifestyle as a guide, Wannstedt found Williams among a vast field of tent-dwellers in North Carolina. For the record, Ricky believed he was hangin' with fellow travelers when, in reality, his new neighbors were Duke students waiting to purchase basketball tickets.
Just because Dave is a nice guy, his motivation for finding Ricky was little more than curiosity. That also happens to be my motivation. This curious nature caused sources to unload the following transcript of a conversation that occurred when Dave & Ricky — not to be confused with any Nelsons — were reunited under the flap of a two-person pup:
RICKY: Hi, coach! You have any chronic?
DAVE: Chronic? Uh, well, my knee's been acting up, but otherwise I'm fine.
RICKY: No, I mean, you know, weed ... ganja.
DAVE: Oh ... Ganja. Yeah, we gave him a tryout last week, but went with one of the Gramatica boys.
RICKY: That's cool.
DAVE: Aren't you wondering why I'm here?
RICKY: No. I believe a man's intentions will reveal themselves in due time ... unless they don't.
DAVE: You come up with that all by yourself, Ricky?
RICKY: No, it's something I learned from Mystic Steve.
DAVE: Spurrier's here, too? Heck, I figured he'd be golfing or trying to get my old job. I didn't even know he liked basketball.
RICKY: That's cool.
DAVE: Anyways, you've lost some weight, Ricky.
RICKY: Yes, but I've gained inner peace. You look a bit leaner, too, coach.
DAVE: Right. I've gained inner stress. A boatload of inner stress. Hey, I notice you've cut off those dead locks.
RICKY: Dreadlocks, coach. After severe contemplation, and insights from Mystic Steve, I've realized that I haven't suffered enough to wear dreadlocks.
DAVE: Suffered? Heck, then I should have hair down to my ...
RICKY: Can I get you something to drink, coach?
DAVE: I'll have what you're having, Ricky. What is that, a Midori shooter?
RICKY: No, it's celery juice.
DAVE: Celery juice? What the hell ... let's live it up.
RICKY: Actually, I drink it because it keeps you regular.
DAVE: So does handing off to Travis Minor.
RICKY: Can I get you something to eat, as well?
DAVE: As long as it's not, you know, Fear Factor food.
RICKY: I don't understand, coach.
DAVE: You know ... creepy crawlies and such. I read that magazine piece online, so you're involvement with nature sort of scares me on the food front. I've heard that Coughlin tried that stuff at training camp with the Giants. Strahan found a beetle in his Chunky Soup.
RICKY: That's cool.
DAVE: So, what do you do for fun around here?
RICKY: Well, I'm entered in a monster Halo tournament.
DAVE: What's Halo?
RICKY: It's a video game.
DAVE: My life is a video game.
RICKY: That's cool. If I win a lot, I'm hoping the prize money and the sales of my Ricky bobbleheads adds up to at least eight million dollars.
DAVE: Is that one of your bobbleheads over there?
RICKY: Yes, coach.
DAVE: Interesting. It doesn't seem to be bobbling.
RICKY: Really. It appears to be bobbling to me.
DAVE: I don't doubt it. What else you been up to?
RICKY: I've been writing poetry. It's mostly free verse, but the one I'm working on now needs a rhyme for azure.
DAVE: How about scapegoat or quitter?
RICKY: That's cool. Let me recite something I finished last week.
DAVE: Lay it on me, Ricky.
RICKY: "... anarchy on towers broke ... a single rose opening in smoke."
DAVE: That's poetry, all right.
RICKY: Thanks, coach. Now you try it.
DAVE: Aw, no ... OK, I'll give 'er a shot. Just answer one question for me. Does "Ricky is a freaking pot head" rhyme with Nantucket?
RICKY: You seem excessively tense, coach. Why don't you take a few hits with me?
DAVE: I don't know.
RICKY: Well, I'm going for it. Hand me that bong over by my Heisman Trophy on the box there. Thanks.
DAVE: That's the Heisman, huh?
RICKY: Yes. It talks to me sometimes.
DAVE: What's it say, "Just win, baby?"
RICKY: No, it says, "Give me to Herschel Walker."
DAVE: That's cool.
RICKY: You sure you don't want a hit?
DAVE: Pass. Never thought I'd say ‘Pass' without Norv Turner talking in my ear.
RICKY: So ... coach ... are you telling me that no NFL coaches get high?
DAVE: I don't think any of 'em get high, but Jon Gruden still thinks he's General Patton.
RICKY: That's cool.
DAVE: You may be right about that, Ricky.
.....
Joining Ricky in the ranks of the unemployed, Wannstedt — according to rumors we can't substantiate — has tracked down his former running back.
The website servicing Esquire magazine currently features a profile of Williams that was fashioned after the author visited Ricky in Australia. According to the story, Ricky happened to be living it up in a sprawling tent community, allegedly smoking his share of weed and washing it down with vegetable juice.
Tent-village activities included poker, meaningful dialogue with someone named Mystic Steve and very little football film study.
Using this lifestyle as a guide, Wannstedt found Williams among a vast field of tent-dwellers in North Carolina. For the record, Ricky believed he was hangin' with fellow travelers when, in reality, his new neighbors were Duke students waiting to purchase basketball tickets.
Just because Dave is a nice guy, his motivation for finding Ricky was little more than curiosity. That also happens to be my motivation. This curious nature caused sources to unload the following transcript of a conversation that occurred when Dave & Ricky — not to be confused with any Nelsons — were reunited under the flap of a two-person pup:
RICKY: Hi, coach! You have any chronic?
DAVE: Chronic? Uh, well, my knee's been acting up, but otherwise I'm fine.
RICKY: No, I mean, you know, weed ... ganja.
DAVE: Oh ... Ganja. Yeah, we gave him a tryout last week, but went with one of the Gramatica boys.
RICKY: That's cool.
DAVE: Aren't you wondering why I'm here?
RICKY: No. I believe a man's intentions will reveal themselves in due time ... unless they don't.
DAVE: You come up with that all by yourself, Ricky?
RICKY: No, it's something I learned from Mystic Steve.
DAVE: Spurrier's here, too? Heck, I figured he'd be golfing or trying to get my old job. I didn't even know he liked basketball.
RICKY: That's cool.
DAVE: Anyways, you've lost some weight, Ricky.
RICKY: Yes, but I've gained inner peace. You look a bit leaner, too, coach.
DAVE: Right. I've gained inner stress. A boatload of inner stress. Hey, I notice you've cut off those dead locks.
RICKY: Dreadlocks, coach. After severe contemplation, and insights from Mystic Steve, I've realized that I haven't suffered enough to wear dreadlocks.
DAVE: Suffered? Heck, then I should have hair down to my ...
RICKY: Can I get you something to drink, coach?
DAVE: I'll have what you're having, Ricky. What is that, a Midori shooter?
RICKY: No, it's celery juice.
DAVE: Celery juice? What the hell ... let's live it up.
RICKY: Actually, I drink it because it keeps you regular.
DAVE: So does handing off to Travis Minor.
RICKY: Can I get you something to eat, as well?
DAVE: As long as it's not, you know, Fear Factor food.
RICKY: I don't understand, coach.
DAVE: You know ... creepy crawlies and such. I read that magazine piece online, so you're involvement with nature sort of scares me on the food front. I've heard that Coughlin tried that stuff at training camp with the Giants. Strahan found a beetle in his Chunky Soup.
RICKY: That's cool.
DAVE: So, what do you do for fun around here?
RICKY: Well, I'm entered in a monster Halo tournament.
DAVE: What's Halo?
RICKY: It's a video game.
DAVE: My life is a video game.
RICKY: That's cool. If I win a lot, I'm hoping the prize money and the sales of my Ricky bobbleheads adds up to at least eight million dollars.
DAVE: Is that one of your bobbleheads over there?
RICKY: Yes, coach.
DAVE: Interesting. It doesn't seem to be bobbling.
RICKY: Really. It appears to be bobbling to me.
DAVE: I don't doubt it. What else you been up to?
RICKY: I've been writing poetry. It's mostly free verse, but the one I'm working on now needs a rhyme for azure.
DAVE: How about scapegoat or quitter?
RICKY: That's cool. Let me recite something I finished last week.
DAVE: Lay it on me, Ricky.
RICKY: "... anarchy on towers broke ... a single rose opening in smoke."
DAVE: That's poetry, all right.
RICKY: Thanks, coach. Now you try it.
DAVE: Aw, no ... OK, I'll give 'er a shot. Just answer one question for me. Does "Ricky is a freaking pot head" rhyme with Nantucket?
RICKY: You seem excessively tense, coach. Why don't you take a few hits with me?
DAVE: I don't know.
RICKY: Well, I'm going for it. Hand me that bong over by my Heisman Trophy on the box there. Thanks.
DAVE: That's the Heisman, huh?
RICKY: Yes. It talks to me sometimes.
DAVE: What's it say, "Just win, baby?"
RICKY: No, it says, "Give me to Herschel Walker."
DAVE: That's cool.
RICKY: You sure you don't want a hit?
DAVE: Pass. Never thought I'd say ‘Pass' without Norv Turner talking in my ear.
RICKY: So ... coach ... are you telling me that no NFL coaches get high?
DAVE: I don't think any of 'em get high, but Jon Gruden still thinks he's General Patton.
RICKY: That's cool.
DAVE: You may be right about that, Ricky.
