Message-ID: <27851065.1075849767240.JavaMail.evans@thyme> Date: Thu, 3 May 2001 04:52:00 -0700 (PDT) From: matthew.lenhart@enron.com To: pulhamus@aol.com, tlenhart@corealty.com, debbielatham@realtor.com, allatham@realtor.com Subject: Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-From: Matthew Lenhart X-To: pulhamus@aol.com, tlenhart@corealty.com, debbielatham@realtor.com, allatham@realtor.com X-cc: X-bcc: X-Folder: \Matthew_Lenhart_Nov2001\Notes Folders\Discussion threads X-Origin: LENHART-M X-FileName: mlenhar.nsf Coach Jim Haslett had put together the perfect New Orleans Saints team. The only thing he was missing was a good quarterback. He had scouted all the colleges, and even the high schools, but he couldn't find a ringer quarterback who could ensure a Super Bowl win. Then one night, while watching CNN, he saw a war-zone scene in Bosnia. In one corner of the screen, he spotted a young Bosnian soldier with a truly incredible arm. He threw a hand grenade straight into a 15th-story window 200 yards away --ka-boom! "I've got to get this guy!" Haslett said to himself. "He has the perfect arm!" So, he brings the kid to the New Orleans and teaches him the great game of football, and the Saints go on to win the Super Bowl for the first time in history. The young Bosnian is "canonized" as the Great Hero of football, and when Haslett asks him what he wants, all the young man wants to do is to call his mother. "Mom," he says into the phone, "I just won the Super Bowl." "I don't want to talk to you," the old woman says. "You deserted us. You are not my son." "I don't think you understand, Mother!" the young man pleads. "I just won the greatest sporting event in the world. I'm here among thousands of my adoring fans." "No, let me tell you," the mother retorts. "At this very moment, there are gunshots all around us. The neighborhood is a pile of rubble. Your two brothers were beaten within an inch of their lives yesterday, and today your sister was kidnapped in broad daylight." The old lady pauses, and then tearfully says " ...I'll never forgive you for making us move to New Orleans."