Wrapped in a Flag

The Boycott

A one-act monologue

Character: the Fan

Place: A New York Giants fan's man cave. It's decked out in all the regalia a football fan's man cave can hold--all of it thematically related to the fan's love of his team.  Life-sized posters of his NFL heroes are plastered to the walls, there's a bar, and a big-screen television, shelves of Giants' memorabilia, a Giants-themed pinball machine and pool table, refrigerator, the works.

Time: the present; kick off time on a Sunday in the Age of Trump.

Scene: As the stage lights come up a brawny, hairy, unshaven, slovenly man is sitting in his recliner in front of the television, which is turned off. He's naked except for the large American flag that is wrapped around his shoulders, torso and knees. He's wearing slippers with the Giants logo on them. His big belly protrudes from the red and white striped fabric like a sinister omen of an impending heart attack.

He retrieves his remote and flicks the television on. It's pregame, with the FOX gang of football experts talking about the upcoming Giants' game.

The fan flips the experts a "fuck you" finger and flicks the TV off again.

He goes over to the pinball machine and starts a game.  He pulls a beer out of the fridge and drinks half the bottle in one long swill.

Fan: (to himself, rambling on) I'm boycottin' my team.  You bet I am.  Trump is right.  Those sons-of-bitches are wrong.  They got no right to kneel like that.  Disrespectin' the flag.  Disrespectin' the military that fights for their freedoms every day!  I'm boycottin' all right.  The NFL can shove it.  As of today, I am not a fan. Who do they think they are? They need to just shut up and play football. Why all of a sudden are they politicians?  They're not anything but football players.  They don't know anything but football.  I ain't gonna use the N-word because I'm not racist.  I kinda like some of them boys.  Some of them are sons-of-bitches, though.  The ones that kneel are SOBs, that is for sure. Why can't they just keep their mouths shut and play football?  Isn't that what they're supposed to be doing? Isn't that what they're paid millions to do?  And who gives them all that money?  We do.  Or did... In my case... Go ahead and bite the hand that feeds you, right?  How stupid is that?  Pissin' off guys like me, guys like me who support them when they just play football and don't act up like... Well, I won't say it, because like I said, I'm no racist. I'm with Trump.  The SOBs who kneel need to be fired. There oughta be a rule. No kneelin'.  No protestin' and no disrespectin' the flag and the military.  That's what gets me riled. Disrespectin' the military like they do.  It's pretty simple isn't it?  The soldiers who fought for their freedoms in every war since day one allowed them the right to play football!  I'm sick of it.  I'm boycotting...

The Fan switches to his pool table and racks the balls, breaks, and starts shooting.

Fan: Well, the NFL is finished, kaput, over and out, goodbye football and hello... uh, what?  It all started with the Kaepernick SOB.  Before he came along everything was fine.  That big hair of his and his big head got him in trouble, though, didn't it?  That kneelin' bullshit when he was the only one doin' it?  Then it started up, a few others. Now look at what you got.  Now look at the idiot.  He's out of football, his career is over, and the moron can't find a job!  Haha.  That makes me laugh. Kaepernick makes me sick...They're all gonna be out of work here soon. 'Cause me and a whole lotta people like me have a say in this deal.  We ain't gonna stand for it no more. Crappy Kaep started all this and we're gonna finish it.  Not a dollar more for them!

The Fan's phone rings.  He picks up and says hello, listens for a few seconds.

Fan: Jesus, Jess, no I don't have the Giants game on. I told you I was gonna start my boycott and stick with it as long as I have to. (pause) You're kiddin', Beckham scored?  Manning is playing lights out?
(pause)  Well, did Beckham kneel? (pause) You're not sure?  Why weren't you watching? (pause) What, you were boycotting and then changed your mind.  How can you do that?  Jesus H. Christ, Jess... (pause) What?  You're kidding me!  Fumble returned for a touchdown!? (pause) Oh, Jesus Jess, I wish I could watch.  I wish those SOBs wouldn't have sat out the anthem.  I could support them then.  Not now. Not now. (pause) Okay, Jess, good talkin' to you, though I don't think you should be watchin' the game. But you can call me again with the final score if you want, maybe talk me through what happened? (pause) Well, I didn't say I wasn't interested, did I?  I mean, I can know the score can't I? You can tell me the highlights can't you?  Like you were just doin'. (pause) Okay, Jess, talk to you later.

The Fan hangs up.  He goes to the fridge for a second beer and walks over to his easy chair.  He looks blankly at the television for a long minute.  He picks up the remote and flicks the TV on.  He switches immediately from the game to a Sunday morning talk show.  Some general or another is being interviewed about the next war.  The Fan flicks the channels again.  A cooking program. Again. The History Channel.  He flicks through all of the stations.

Fan: Son-of-a-bitch... There ain't nothin' on worth watchin'...

The Fan halts his remote search at the Giants game just as Odell Beckham catches a ball for a first down.

Fan: What a catch!  First and ten...!

He reaches for the potato chips and stuffs his mouth with them.


The End