Citizen Shaun Rogers

Notice that they had to have a buffer between Shaun and the girls.


Shaun Rogers is no longer a citizen of our noble province, but there was a time when Big Baby toiled under the same brutal hell sun that has tortured us all in Lions land. And since it's July and there still isn't a damn thing happening worth talking about, any news involving anyone or anything even tangentially related to the Detroit Lions is fair game. So, anyone wanting to complain that this isn't strictly about the Lions can kindly go to hell because these are the times that try men's souls and it's either this or a million words spent rambling on about hope again.

When I saw the story today that Shaun Rogers had done his duty as a citizen and ratted out some poor drunkard weaving all over the road, I knew I had to write about it. Some would paint this as a redemptive story of a man who has seen his own troubled days finally finding the grace to do the right thing. Others would decry Shaun Rogers for senseless snitchery. Tom Lewand would probably plead with Shaun to mind his fucking business. But the true story, I think, is not in whether Shaun Rogers did the right thing or not. No. I will leave that to the Mitch Alboms of the world, who will spin their saccharine little webs around Big Baby until the poor degenerate is barely recognizable anymore, just a soft cuddly do-gooder. You know, boring.

But reality is rarely so cut and dry. There has to be more to it than either a desire to finally do some good or a desire to get caught up in snitchery. After all, Shaun Rogers is a complicated man and we can only imagine the thoughts that raced through his mind as he sped down the highway and saw some poor fool Lewanding his way down the road. Did he feel fear? Sympathy? Perhaps an overwhelming rage stemming from that time a drunk killed his imaginary friend Dr. Gropesalot? We can never really know. All we can do is go by this transcript, which was put into my head by a voice from on high claiming to be either God or the ghost of Ulysses S. Grant or that ape at the zoo with the shifty eyes who pointed at me and then at his head, laughed and then picked his ass. That's right, I'm on to you ape! Whether it is by divine intervention, the whim of a dead alcoholic ex-President or through the infernal mind manipulations of a super intelligent ape, somehow, I believe I know what happened in that car during that fateful phone call between Shaun "Big Baby" Rogers and the dispatchers at 911.

Shaun Rogers(SR): Ayo, 911, there's some drunk ass motherfucker bobbing and weavin' all over the damn road!

Dispatcher: Relax, sir. Can you repeat that for me?

SR: Fuck that. He's too close! There's no time.

Dispatcher: Sir, can you calm down? Tell me your name.

SR: My name? You know who this is. This Big Baby! I got a motherfucker here swervin' all over the damn road. Oh shit! I can see him taking some pulls from a bottle of Nyquil. Mothafuckin' Nyquil!

Dispatcher: What's that? You have a baby with you? Sir, please don't give your baby Nyquil.

SR: Aw, hell naw, son. This is Big Baby, Shaun Rogers . . .

Dispatcher: Shaun Rogers? Oh God.

[rustling in the background, panicked voices]

Dispatcher: Where are you now, Mr. Rogers?

SR: The fuck? I told you. I'm in a car . . .

Dispatcher: Mr. Rogers, please pull over and stay right where you are. You don't want to hurt anyone, especially that baby.

SR: Naw, listen . . . I don't have a baby. This is Big Baby.

Dispatcher: I understand that you might have a large baby, Mr. Rogers, but you still can't give him Nyquil.

SR: What the fuck you talking about?

Dispatcher: Mr. Rogers, where are you coming from?

SR: Where am I coming from? What does that matter?

Dispatcher: We received reports that you were spotted fleeing from an establishment called The International House of Ass . . .

SR: [laughter] Aw, hell yeah, son. They let you put syrup right on them asses, and . . .

Dispatcher: Was your baby present with you at this establishment?

SR: Man, I told you, I ain't got no baby. This is Big Baby.

Dispatcher: Again, sir, the size of your baby is irrelevant to . . .

SR: Whatever. Whatever. Look, there's a drunk motherfucker weaving all over the road. I'm just trying to help here. Big Baby wants to do right.

Dispatcher: Mr. Rogers, how long has your baby been drunk?

SR: Man, just listen . . . I been dealing with this asshole ever since I left the House of Ass. I'd still be there too, but that bitch Trixie flipped the fuck out and dropped a dime on me to the bouncers. Motherfuckers said I had to leave just 'cause I tried to take a bite outta dat ass. Shit, they the ones that give you the syrup. What the fuck you supposed to think? All sending mixed messages and shit . . .

Dispatcher: Mr. Rogers, are you currently intoxicated and/or under the influence of drugs?

SR: Hell naw, son. They don't serve alcohol in the IHOA. Otherwise, that shit be topless only. If you wanna get the full nude, you can't have no liquor. It's the law. Shit, how the fuck you not know that?

Dispatcher: Mr. Rogers, please, put your clothes back on!

SR: The fuck? No, man, the bitches was the ones missing their clothes.

Dispatcher: Sir, did you just refer to me as a bitch?

SR: Naw, man, listen . . . please . . . I'm just trying to help. There's a motherfucker drunk driving down the highway. He nearly cut me off as I was leaving the parking lot of the International House of Ass . . .

Dispatcher: Sir, is your baby properly restrained?

SR: Man, come on now. You just fuckin' with me, right? You know this is Big Baby. You know who this is.

Dispatcher: Mr. Rogers, the police have been sent and they will be there shortly. Now, please, can you tell me if you have any weapons on you?

SR: Shit, I'm gonna hang up, man. Just look for my flashers. I'll be tailing the drunk and . . .

Dispatcher: [to people in background] All cars be on the lookout for one Shaun Rogers. Last seen driving an SUV with a drunk baby inside covered in syrup. Suspect is fully nude - not just topless - and just threatened to start flashing other drivers.

SR: Awww, shit . . . Yo man, nevermind.

Dispatcher: Suspect has ceased to be cooperative. Officers are authorized to use whatever force necessary in the apprehension of suspect.

And . . . scene.

There are those who tell you that this is not what happened, but this is because the media is filled with racists paid to sweep this kind of shit under the rug. Not me, though. I'm still not sure why I was chosen to be the vessel of this particular truth or how I ended up with this knowledge, but just be thankful that somehow, someway, I have been able to get the truth to you. We may not understand the ways of the Lord or of that superintelligent ape at the zoo but such are the mysteries of faith my friends.

I'm just happy that everything worked out in the end for Big Baby and that he is getting his long overdue recognition as a solid citizen and an agent for justice in these dark and troubled times. Sure, he may have traveled a strange and terrible road to salvation, filled with comical missteps and the occasional groping, and sure he had to spend several hours convincing the police that he didn't have a baby with him in the car, but Shaun Rogers was trying to do the right thing. And okay, it turned him into a shameful snitch in the process, which should be a lesson to all future Big Baby's out there: don't ever try to do the right thing, but at least Mitch Albom will deign to make eye contact with him now and really, isn't that what all professional athletes want at the end of the day?

Vaya con dios, Big Baby. You may not be a Detroit Lion anymore, but I still remember you staggering down the field against the Broncos and I still remember you saying fuck it and quitting on that one play. You know the one I'm talking about, right? Just pick a random play and you'll probably be right. But you were hated by Rod Marinelli and that's a point in your favor and although you may have been exiled from our terrible realm, you are still a son of Detroit. So, vaya con dios you King of the Jungle(And by The Jungle, I am of course talking about the strip club located in Amarillo, Texas.)