There’s a big huge cover story about RGIII in this month’s GQ that focuses on his rehab from knee surgery and the Rob Parker controversy and so forth, but the real fun is in the outtakes, which were posted this morning. Florio pulled out a two sentence parenthetical about Donovan McNabb and did that thing he does where he pours gasoline all over a house, hands out torches to an angry mob, then gets in his car and speeds away (I like to picture him in one of the little zippy cars from The Jetsons that makes that sp-p-p-WHEEE-p-p-p-puh sound), but we are going to skip over that and move on to more pressing matters. Namely, booze.
On his rep for being a teetotaler:
“Never had a drop. I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I’ve never done any drugs. I need my body to be at its peak performance, and I want to have a long career, and alcohol can inhibit that sometimes. And I don’t need to get in trouble because I went out and got drunk one night and I don’t know how to be drunk. But she”—he nodded at Rebecca, his wife, who sat with us for part of the interview—”drinks, and I don’t judge, and what I’ve told her a bunch of times is the first time I drink, I’ll drink with her. When I’m done playing and I retire, and it’s time for me to go sit in a big house and do nothing all day, I’m going to drink. You know?”
Here’s a fun mental image: A 35-year-old RGIII, on the first Friday night after his retirement, just WRECKED on schnapps like a giggly 16-year-old at his or her first drinking party, with his very frustrated wife trying to get him to settle down.
RGIII: I wanna go outside!
Rebecca Griffin: No, Robert. Sit down. Let’s just watch a movie and relax.
RGIII: Where’s my cup? I CAN’T FIND MY CUP! Did you take my cup?
Rebecca Griffin: I put it away. You don’t need anymore. Here, come have a seat.
RGIII: [pouts for two seconds, then starts smiling] Hey, I got an idea. Come here. I wanna tell you.
Rebecca Griffin: What? Just tell me from over there.
RGIII: [loudly whispering through giggles] No, come here. It’s a secret.
Rebecca Griffin: Come on, Robert.
RGIII: [excitedly motions her over]
Rebecca Griffin: [sighs, gives up, walks over] What?
RGIII: [leans in, whispers] I farted.
Rebecca Griffin: DAMMIT, ROBERT.
RGIII: LET’S CALL COACH SHANAHAN!