A phone rings.
Archie: Cooper, it’s your father.
Cooper: Hi, pop.
Archie: I’m worried about Peyton.
Cooper: Why? Did something happen? Is Ashley OK?
Archie: I mean with his neck. How he’s had surgery again? And is probably going to miss half the season? Duh. Keep up, Cooper.
Cooper: Sorry, pop. I’ve been real busy with work and haven’t read the news much lately.
Archie: You mean you haven’t called him to offer your support? Are you joking? Wait until your mother hears about this.
Cooper: I’m sorry, pop. I really didn’t know. I mean, I knew he was having some lingering trouble with the neck this pre-season, but…
Archie: You’ll never learn, will you? We’re a family. We need to support each other. When Eli got drafted by that franchise that will remain nameless, we supported him until he got into a better situation. Together. As a family. The strong, united Manning family.
Cooper: You mean we supported him by blackmailing the Chargers while he hid in a closet?
Archie: You don’t know shit, boy. But you need to put that behind you and support Peyton now. He needs his brothers. Both of them. Eli already sent him some real nice flowers and promised him extra noogies at Thanksgiving. I flew out to visit him three times already. What have you done? Sat on your ass?
Cooper: I’ve got a family to take care of, a job as the top-ranking sales executive at…
Archie: You’re the top-ranking pussy of the Manning family, I can tell you that. You’re the top-ranking Judas of the Manning brothers. You’re the top-ranking no-good, do-nothing loser I’ve ever had the displeasure to sire. I knew when I shot my wad in your mother that something wasn’t right up there. She probably forgot to pray to Ol’ Bear Bryant that morning and her cooch got all screwed up.
Cooper: A) gross. B) I need a drink. Seems like I always do when I talk to you.
Archie: Once a bitch, always a bitch, Cooper. But regardless of how I feel about you — and embarrassed is generally how I feel about you — we need to put our differences aside in this time of need for your brother.
Cooper: Peyton has more millions than he knows what to do with, a Super Bowl ring, the love of an entire region and three butlers. I think he can handle missing a few games.
Archie: You’re a disgrace to this family. We support each other through tough times. You know how much breaking Favre’s consecutive games streak meant to your brother. You know that, Cooper. Almost as much as it meant to me. He’s a broken-hearted QB1 right now and you owe him your brotherly support. Call him today, Cooper.
Cooper: Support? You mean like everyone supported me when I got diagnosed with spinal stenosis and had to give up all my dreams of playing football? When I had to settle for life as a damn civilian? You know scouts said I might of had the best arm of any of the Mannings.
Archie: Exactly. Like we supported you through that.
Cooper: Mom didn’t talk to me for three years. You said that I had Manning DNA everywhere else but little girl pussy DNA in my back.
Archie: And your heart. I said you have girl pussy in your heart too.
Cooper: That’s right. You wrote me out of your will. You wouldn’t let me go to any of Eli or Peyton’s games anymore, and you tried to stop me from having any contact with them. You changed the locks on the house. You told a reporter that I was adopted. You punched me right in the back to see if I was faking.
Archie: I still have my doubts.
Cooper: I could have had Peyton’s career but for some shitty luck. And you never even gave me the satisfaction of telling me I was good.
Archie: You did have a great arm, boy. Some arm. And some QB build too. You were like Jason Street and your brothers were just so many Matt Saracens collecting dust on the bench. But just like Jason Street, you had a fatal flaw: you didn’t want it bad enough.
Cooper: Jason Street is a fictional character. And he was paralyzed from the waist down.
Archie: Right. Didn’t want it enough. Meanwhile, Peyton and Eli made up for mediocre arms with more heart and desire than a non-champion like you could every dream of. They cared about the game, Cooper. They cared about me. They cared about honoring the Good Lord up above by playing to the best of their abilities.
Cooper: Whatever. I got somewhere to be. Anywhere to be.
Archie: Typical, boy. This is just like when you convinced Peyton to wear paper bags on your heads during one of my Saints games. You’re a disgrace to me, our name, and our family. And the great American sport of football.
Cooper: I always liked baseball better.
Archie: (dead silence)
Cooper: Are you still there, Pop?
Archie: No, you just killed your old man of a heart attack. You know, that’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me. That anyone’s ever said to me.
Cooper: You’re right, Pop. I’m sorry. That was a low blow. I’ll call Peyton and see if he needs anything.
Archie: That’s right you will. And when you’re done, you call Eli and see if he needs anything. He’s real tired from supporting his brother so hard.
Cooper: (mumbling) Through clenched teeth, I’m sure.
Archie: What was that?
Cooper: Nothing, Pop. I’ll call them now. I…I love you.
Archie: Of course you do, faggot.