Poor Bob Costas. He is missing almost all of the Olympics and also everybody is making fun of him for having an eye infection. Sucks to be him, at least right now. Therefore I wrote this story.
Bob Costas and his Very Bad Day
a story by Captain Dan
This was it. Game 7 of the World Series, and Bob Costas was up to the plate. 2 outs, bottom of the 9th, down by 3, bases loaded. 3 balls, 2 strikes. It would be all up to him.
Fastball, foul tip.
Costas kicked at the plate nonchalantly, well aware that the world was watching. "I ain't sweatin' NOTHING," he said to himself, inside his Bob Costas head.
He stared down the pitcher, President Richard Nixon.
President Richard Nixon locked eyes with his catcher. Bob Costas could not remember who was crouching behind him. Was it his mother? Was it his high school gym teacher?
But then wait a minute. Why is Richard Nixon pitching baseball in the World Series? and wait, I'm not a baseball player, I'm Bob Costas! I AM BOB COSTAS.
*brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrringgggggggggggggg*
The sound of the alarm clock awakened (literally) Mr. Costas back to reality.
He quickly recognized that he was not at home in his Sleep Number bed. He was in Sochi, Russia, and it was time for the Winter Olympics.
Bob Costas gleefully (yes GLEEFULLY) lept out of bed with similar enthusiasm to a child on Hanukkah morning. Like most professional sports broadcasters, the first thing he wanted to do was pee. Unfortunately, since it was Russia, the toilet was labelled "DO NOT USE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE!"
So he figured, "Oh well, I'll just pee in the tub drain, all Ozzie Smith style."
Then he looked in the mirror, and recognized that his eye was incorrect. Very VERY incorrect.
Bob Costas had pink eye.
So like most people would do, he f'ed with it for like an hour. "Maybe I can fix it, maybe I can hide it, try rubbing some toothpaste directly on my eyeball. Who knows?"
After awhile, though, he looked at the time on his cellphone and recognized that he was missing out on the hotel's complimentary continental breakfast.
"Shit."
Costas quickly put on his wig, bathrobe, and Chopard Sunglasses (in that order) and raced down to the hotel dining area. The only things left were a few upside-down Pop Tarts (lemon) and some Lucky Charms with no marshmallows left and stray Cheerios mixed in.
"Sorry Mr. Costas," said the lady. "But Michael Phelps was just here."
Bob Costas was both irritated and confused. (Wouldn't you be?)
"Michael Phelps AGAIN? But this is the WINTER Olympics!"
"Yep."
Extremely furious, Bob Costas stormed back to his hotel room, figuring he could steal a Kudos Granola Snack from the mini-bar.
"If I open it very carefully and smooth out the wrapper all air-bloated and correctly before putting it back nobody will notice what I did!"
But guess what happened?
RIGHT then.
It turned out that bathrobe-and-sunglass-wearing Bob Costas had locked himself out of his hotel room.
AND THEN GUESS WHAT ELSE HAPPENED?
RIGHT then.
The entire Russian hockey team came walking down the hotel hallway.
Russian #1: Oh my goodness Mr. Costas, you have bad night?
Russian #2: Bob Costas inferior American broadcaster cannot get into own hotel room. This makes Ivan chuckle.
Bob Costas: Ivan... Ivan? Is it? Allow me to to tell you the story of Ivan Lendl, the famous Czechoslovakian tennis player that captivated the world by defeating John McEnroe in the 1984 French Open final.
Russian #2: No thanks, Mr. Costas. Hey, you believe in miracle?
Russian #2 then boots the door to the Bob Costas hotel room open, easily.
Bob Costas: Thanks, guys. Can I offer you some m&ms or vodka? My treat.
Later, Bob Costas has to actually go to work. He is unsuccessful in hailing (HAILING) a cab because Michael Phelps takes the last one right in front of him. Meredith Vieira pulls up in a chauffeured car.
Meredith: Hey Bob, need a ride?
Bob Costas: How did you get a chauffeured car? I've been taking cabs.
Meredith: You gotta know people. Hop in!
He gets in, and is very grateful.
Meredith: What's with the shades?
Bob Costas: Oh I just have a little eye problem, it will NOT affect my WORK.
Meredith: What kind of eye problem?
Bob Costas: Well, do you think this will be noticeable?
Bob Costas takes of his sunglasses to reveal his freak eye.
Meredith: Oh no, that's totally cool. Hey Igor (the driver), I no longer feel like I can finish eating my Wendy's Apple Pecan Chicken Salad. Would you like to take the rest of it home to your family?
Igor (the driver): Oh yes many thank-yous Princess Vieira. Your Wendy's leftovers will feed my starving family for a whole week, you American b-word.
AGAIN later, Bob Costas shows up to broadcast the Olympics. He bumps into Cris Collinsworth.
Bob Costas: Hey Cris, is this noticeable?
Bob Costas takes off his sunglasses and Cris Collinsworth immediately faints and vomits, in that order.
When it's go-time, Bob Costas is advised to put on some thick-rimmed eyeglasses and make a quick joke about his eye being as red as the Soviet flag. Because THAT will smooth things over, right?
It does not work.
Bob Costas returns to his hotel room (he did not forget his key this time) and decides to unwind by checking out Twitter. He is STARTLED by the multitude of tweets concerning his eye.
"Why is my eye TRENDING? What a bad day."
His immediate defense strategy is to invent a bunch of fake Twitter accounts as damage control.
Bob Costas Fan @CostazRulez
hey peeps stop hating on costas, eye ailment or not he is still the ultim8 professional
Educated Woman @JennyBear69
his eye will heal and then he is gonna look better than ever! you rule, bob!
Amazing Gary @GaryBiAndProud
I agree!
Costas, smug and satisfied, drifts off to sleep.
...and then the dreams come.
It's OPENING DAY and Bob Costas is taking the mound. Ben Franklin on first base, Run-D.M.C. in left field.
THE END.
Seriously though, why can't they just use computers to fix him? Like when somebody with tattoos needs to be shirtless in a movie and they use lasers to edit the tattoos out?
I'm no kind of expert on that stuff but I imagine it would look something like this:
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