Ireland-Bryant Interview - Now That We Know More: Fill In The Captions | Page 2 | FinHeaven - Miami Dolphins Forums

Ireland-Bryant Interview - Now That We Know More: Fill In The Captions

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I poked some fun at this last week speculating how the interview transpired:

http://www.finheaven.com/forums/f2/the-bryant-ireland-he-said-she-said-exclusive-video-275946.html

..but now that some cooler heads have prevailed and we have a reasonable and credible alternative perspective of what actually happened (particularly in light of Mama Bryant's continued and recent criminal infractions), I thought it might be interesting for some others to fill-in some "tongue in cheek" interview dialogue- especially after the ridiculous feeding frenzy and pile-on of Ireland by ESPN and a few glorified internet bloggers.


Fill in the captions:

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Interviewer.....Jeff Ireland
Mr. Bryant.....Dez

Interviewer: Alright, Mr. Bryant, you've done just fine on the Wonderlict.. your times are in good order.. your weights fine.. no difficulties with your motor skills.. And I think you're probably ready for this job. We've got one more psychological test we always do here. It's just a Word Association. I'll throw you out a few words - anything that comes to your mind, just throw back at me, okay? It's kind of an arbitrary thing. Like, if I say "dog", you'd say..?

Mr. Bryant: "Tree".

Interviewer: "Tree". [ nods head, prepares the test papers ] "Dog".

Mr. Bryant: "Tree".

Interviewer: "Fast".

Mr. Bryant: "Slow".

Interviewer: "Rain".

Mr. Bryant: "Snow".

Interviewer: "White".

Mr. Bryant: "Black".

Interviewer: "Bean".

Mr. Bryant: "Pod".

Interviewer: [ casually ] "Crack whore".

Mr. Bryant: "Projects".

Interviewer: "Mother".

Mr. Bryant: [ silent, sure he didn't hear what he thinks he heard ] What'd you say?

Interviewer: [ repeating ] "Mother".

Mr. Bryant: Dead honky!

Interviewer: [ quickly wraps the interview up ] Okay, Mr. Wilson, I think you're qualified for this job. How about a starting salary of $5,000,000?

Mr. Bryant: Your momma!

Interviewer: [ fumbling ] Uh.. $7,500,000 a year?

Mr. Bryant: Your grandmomma!

Interviewer: $15,000,000 Mr. Bryant. You'll be the highest paid wide receiver in the NFL. Just, don't.. don't hurt me,

Mr. Bryant: Okay.

Interviewer: [ relieved ] Okay.

Mr. Bryant: You want me to start now?

Interviewer: Oh, no, no.. that's alright. I'll clean all this up. Take a couple of weeks off, you look tired.

[ fade ]
 
ireland: you are quite the athlete dez, now can you sell me on you?
dez: um, like my father did with my mother?
ireland: are you saying your mothers a prostitute?
dez: no.. im answering your question with a question.
ireland: oh,but for real.. did you just say your dad sold your mother.. as in a prositute?
dez: no, i said "um, like my father did with my mother?"..
ireland: are you dumb? as in mentally challenged?
dez: well, im offended..
ireland: im sorry for calling you dumb..
dez: NO MY MOTHER IS NOT A PROSTITUTE!!!!
ireland: can you get on the phone with denver.. dez we will be getting in touch with you! :)
 
Ireland: Who would you say you are closest too in your life today?

Dez: Deion Sanders....no doubt.

Ireland: How would you best describe your relationship with him?

Dez: He's my adviser on everything I do....my football career, building my public image, He even advises me on my personal relationships with my family and friends.......kind of a moral compass!

Ireland: Why did you choose Deion?

Dez: I didn't choose Deion....Deion chose Dez....just like Mr Silver and Mr Jones chose Dez....this isn't about anyone but Dez, I want you to think about that for a minute!
 
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BRYANT: Good afternoon! Jack's Pickles and Penis Pumps...how can I help you?

IRELAND: From wha?

BRYANT: Hello??

IRELAND: Yes

BRYANT: You need pickles?

IRELAND: Pickles? Yes.

BRYANT: How many pickles?

IRELAND: Uhhh....fiftttttyyyyy boxes

BRYANT: Sir...

IRELAND: Yeah...

BRYANT: What are you doing?

IRELAND: I pickle they...you know? I pickle they.

BRYANT: This is Jack's Pickles and Penis Pumps

IRELAND: (stuttering) Jack's ppp-pppickles from Penis Pump?

BRYANT: Right!
 
Interviewer.....Jeff Ireland
Mr. Bryant.....Dez

Interviewer: Alright, Mr. Bryant, you've done just fine on the Wonderlict.. your times are in good order.. your weights fine.. no difficulties with your motor skills.. And I think you're probably ready for this job. We've got one more psychological test we always do here. It's just a Word Association. I'll throw you out a few words - anything that comes to your mind, just throw back at me, okay? It's kind of an arbitrary thing. Like, if I say "dog", you'd say..?

Mr. Bryant: "Tree".

Interviewer: "Tree". [ nods head, prepares the test papers ] "Dog".

Mr. Bryant: "Tree".

Interviewer: "Fast".

Mr. Bryant: "Slow".

Interviewer: "Rain".

Mr. Bryant: "Snow".

Interviewer: "White".

Mr. Bryant: "Black".

Interviewer: "Bean".

Mr. Bryant: "Pod".

Interviewer: [ casually ] "Crack whore".

Mr. Bryant: "Projects".

Interviewer: "Mother".

Mr. Bryant: [ silent, sure he didn't hear what he thinks he heard ] What'd you say?

Interviewer: [ repeating ] "Mother".

Mr. Bryant: Dead honky!

Interviewer: [ quickly wraps the interview up ] Okay, Mr. Wilson, I think you're qualified for this job. How about a starting salary of $5,000,000?

Mr. Bryant: Your momma!

Interviewer: [ fumbling ] Uh.. $7,500,000 a year?

Mr. Bryant: Your grandmomma!

Interviewer: $15,000,000 Mr. Bryant. You'll be the highest paid wide receiver in the NFL. Just, don't.. don't hurt me,

Mr. Bryant: Okay.

Interviewer: [ relieved ] Okay.

Mr. Bryant: You want me to start now?

Interviewer: Oh, no, no.. that's alright. I'll clean all this up. Take a couple of weeks off, you look tired.

[ fade ]

Wow, have not seen that SNL skit for a while, (Richard Pryer and Chevy Chase would be proud...LOL)...NICE!! :hclap:
 
Ireland: Mr bryant, your mother is a dirty crack whore and we have no wish to bring someone like you whom has a worthless crack whore of a monther into this organization... I suggest you go sign with the Cowboys, they love potential cracked out test tube babes
 
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