It was just before Christmas, and I remember it exactly, because it was very strange. I had just completed the week’s “Tripple Overtime,” expressing my recently renewed holiday spirit (even though it was still somewhat lacking), and was leaving the Coastal Point headquarters in Ocean View when I discovered something — it was some kind of box, and it was resting upon the hood of my car.
The box was festively wrapped in red and green and carefully tied with a golden bow. On the front, written in Sharpie, was my name — but there were no identifiable marks, aside from the five letters that comprise it.
There was also no card attached, and when I looked around the parking lot, I didn’t see anyone except for Point graphics guru Bob Betram — who for a quick flash I mistook for Santa Claus, until I realized that while 21st Century Santa might actually drive a Prius, he definitely wouldn’t wear Crocs (and if he did, they would at least be red).
That’s when I decided to open it. Surely there’d be some kind of clue waiting inside that box, whether it be a note, a card, a photo, a calling card a la The Joker from “The Dark Night,” the Jack’o Diamonds from “Seven Psychopaths,” or the Asian guy from the “Hangover” movies — something.
So, very precisely, I carefully unwrapped the very precise wrapping, only to find a white box with no identifiable branding or label — not even my name this time. Inside that, white tissue paper in the same vein, but still no clue as to where the gift had come from.
So I rushed back to HQ, to ask around and see if any had seen anything suspicious. You know — any mysterious figures, reindeer, etc. But no one seemed to have noticed anything suspicious. (They were also kind of busy, they said, reporting the news or whatever.)
It was a classic whodunit, just like “Sleuth,” “The Usual Suspects” or, of course, the “Hangover” movies. But after going into sleuth mode and ruling out some of the usual suspects (often while fighting a hangover), I’ve since determined that, really, the situation was more like one of those classic “whydunits,” like “Chinatown.”
I was going to have to do my best Jack Nicholson impression and see if, unlike Tom Cruise’s character in “A Few Good Men,” I could handle the truth: that, after more than two years of “Tripple Overtime” stirring the pot, my best bet was to start ruling out who it couldn’t have been, rather than asking who it could have been.
The gift had been a pair of green-and-gold flannel pajama pants (that are real sweet), and it has since become the basis for one of the greatest mysteries of all time. And while that mystery remains, a number of potential suspects have been ruled out as subjects of interest with great certainty, the list of whom includes but is by no means limited to, the following persons for the following reasons:
New England Patriots’ QB Tom Brady and coach Bill Belichick
This also goes for all New England Patriots’ fans, and even Indian River soccer head coach Steve Kilby, who continues to agree to interviews with me despite the fact that he’s a diehard Pats fan and Bill and Tom very often fall victim to “Tripple OT.” (Is this really my fault, though? All they’d have to do is stop wearing Uggs and start wearing sleeves, and my ammunition would be drastically, let’s say… deflated).
Also ruling out the possibility of Bill and Tom being the gift-givers is that, unlike Arron Hernandez, they’ve got a pretty decent alibi for the day it all went down, seeing that they were in Denver for some kind of sports game at the time.
Tampa Bay Bucs’ QB Jameis Winston
If the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ front office reads “Tripple Overtime,” which I’m assuming they of course do, then it’s very likely that I single-handedly destroyed Jameis Winston’s draft stock when I wrote about why he probably shouldn’t have stolen chicken from Publix supermarkets. The Bucs would go on to select Winston No. 1 overall in 2015 anyway. But if I hadn’t written that column, there’s no telling how much higher he ultimately would have gone (0?).
With that being said, I doubt Winston would have felt particularly compelled to buy me such a gift, even though he can now most certainly afford it, with his new $23.5 million contract. I do, however, think that with cash like that, he should at least consider paying Publix back for the chicken.
Point photographer Chris Clark
Plenty of reasons here, the most convincing of which being the fact that the pants are not made of hemp, do not indicate as to whether or not they are “100% Gluten Free” and do not conveniently zip off into flannel shorts. Also, I highly doubt that Chris Clark actually wasn’t out on a vacation, for once, at the time.
Movie “star” Adam Sandler
Pretty self-explanatory here, as well. Also, I highly doubt that Adam Sandler would ever take a break from making terrible movies (which for some reason Bob Betram keeps watching?) long enough to go Christmas shopping.
Redskins fans in favor of keeping the name “Redskins”
I offended quite a few Redskins fans who are in support of the team keeping their name when I wrote a column in July of 2014, taking no discernible stance on this issue and expressing my concern about how easily people take offense to things these days.
Redskins fans in favor of changing the name “Redskins”
I offended quite a few Redskins’ fans who are in support of the team changing their name when I wrote a column in July of 2014 taking no discernible stance on this issue and expressing my concern about how easily people take offense to things these days.
Washington Sentinels’ kicker Nigel “The Leg” Gruff
In a column titled “Kickers are people, too,” I highlighted the biggest impacts made by football kickers in recent memory. One of which included Washington Sentinels’ kicker Nigel “The Leg” Gruff from the movie “The Replacements.”
I had completely forgotten that he was in hiding from some loan-shark/mobster-type dudes, who I’m assuming, of course, read “Tripple Overtime,” about his gambling debt, so I highly doubt that Gruff is buying me any gifts after blowing his cover. Also, he’s a fictional character — just completely made-up, not capable of purchasing green-and-gold pajama pants or really anything, for that matter.
The list, of course, goes on. I could rule out Point graphic artist and infamous storyteller David Elliot, who lives in Laurel, where I’m pretty sure there is not a store that actually sells clothing.
I could rule out Point graphic artist Tom Maglio, who refuses to buy clothing that isn’t featured in the Winter 2016 edition J. Crew catalog and who, if anything, would have bought me a scarf from said catalog. I could rule out my dad, who doesn’t read “Tripple Overtime.”
But even after narrowing the search, the mystery of the green-and-gold flannel pajama pants and questions of whodunit and whydunit still loom. Perhaps I’d be better off searching for the answers in Chinatown, and more effective asking the questions without fighting a hangover. Perhaps the gift-giver is the person I’d least expect it to be, which somewhat tragically, would reinstate all the persons just mentioned as subjects of interest.
Or perhaps the mystery of the green-and-gold pajama pants is just a mystery that isn’t meant to be solved, and the real discovery was as simple as enjoying some newfound Christmas spirit brought about by finding a carefully wrapped box tied with a golden bow resting upon the hood of my car, and wondering who could have left it there.