Pale, One Armed Dan Campbell Informs Team He Bought A Lion
Covered in blood, pale as a ghost, and swaying like a man held up by sheer willpower and raw steak fumes, Dan Campbell addressed the Lions this week with one arm missing and the other pointing proudly toward a full-grown African lion lounging on the practice field.
“That’s Mufasa,” Campbell rasped, his voice cracking like a door hinge as his eyes kept involuntarily closing. “He’s not just a mascot. He’s family now. My best friend. My roommate. My accountability partner. And with time... I pray he becomes yours too.”
Players stared in stunned silence as the lion, its mouth soaked with a sticky red substance, licking its chops and rolling onto its side like it had just finished a very satisfying meal.
“I’ll be honest,” Campbell continued, visibly trembling, the color in his face gone like it had been traded for grit and primal fear. “First couple days were rough. They said he needed to be caged. But I told ‘em: Not on my team. Not on this soil. No brother of ours lives behind bars.”
He blinked slowly, as if holding onto consciousness by a thread.
“First night with him? Took him straight to my dojo. Put on the ‘98 Royal Rumble. He growled when Austin came out... And that's when I realized I've known this lion my whole life. Then we crushed raw gazelle shanks in my sensory deprivation cave while watching a six-hour Jean-Claude Van Damme marathon. I haven’t slept since Tuesday.”
Campbell then turned slowly to face Mufasa, who was now gnawing on what may or may not have once been a blocking sled.
“He bit off my arm sure. But that was on me. I broke eye contact. I betrayed his trust, and I don't fault him for it. Tearing off a friends arm is a sign of respect in his world.”
The team remained silent as Campbell, eyes rolling back into his head concluded:
“Look, men. I didn’t get us a lion. I freed a lion. And in return, he freed me.”
