Godfather II, Rocky II and Grown-Ups 2 were theatrical releases of epic proportions. Although Jaws 2 and Dumb and Dumberer failed to live up to the brilliance of the originals, I guess all sequels can’t be winners.
Just ask Dr. Laura.
When Dr. Laura boldly decided she wanted another shot at the Chump in a Fit Bit duel to the death, I felt I had to redeem my honor from my last outing. Dr. Laura had been gloating endlessly since her recent victory; an undersized Palanhiukriminologist besting a man in peak physical condition was an upset of David-like proportions.
I had to put a stop to this. I accepted her challenge. This time around, I would not end up in some mall dodging Israeli sea salt salesmen and grasping desperately for every last step. I would take this challenge seriously. Victory would be mine.
We each amassed over 91,000 steps in our last challenge, with Doc Laura edging me out by a scant 700 steps. After receiving a little insider trading, I knew she had carefully planned six workouts this time around. 92,000 steps might not win this challenge. It might take six figures.
After I took an early lead, Doc Laura eventually took charge. Her trash-talking followed closely thereafter. Down nearly 7,000 steps early, I received a text that read “Glad to see you are back where you belong……behind me. hoped you enjoyed your brief lead, my friend.”
So much for friendly competition; this bitch meant business.
Thursday I hit the gym hard. Walking outside, then elliptical for twenty minutes, then weights and a little basketball shoot-around, followed by another lengthy walk outdoors in the sun. I regained my lead until she did yet again. This victory would not be easy, until…
Later that evening, I received a text from SportsChump contributor and mutual friend, Dr. Milhouse. His text read “You are RUTHLESS in winning this rematch.” I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. I figured they must have spoken with her mentioning something about me keeping her honest in her quest to repeat.
Then he wrote “Full Tonya Harding.”
I didn’t get it. To what was he referring?
I later found out that the good Dr. Laura… needed a doctor herself. Apparently she had turned an ankle and was on crutches, out for four to six weeks. Competition over! Like the Warriors with no Steph Curry, this was the icing on the cake.
For a brief moment, I felt bad once again. (I’ll let you determine the level of sarcasm of that last sentence.) But wait until you hear how she turned her ankle. This was no boating accident.
Here’s the transcript of my back and forth with the ailing Doctor Laura on the night of her injury, complete with the series of images I sent during said concession, er… conversation. You tell me if I was out of line.
SportsChump: you ok?
Doc Laura: It really hurts but the Percocet helps. Lol
I have crutches and my parents are dusting off my old walker and bringing it to me tomorrow morning.
SC: I’m really sorry you’re hurting
DL: Have an ankle brace. Good news is that X-rays aren’t showing a fracture, waiting for radiology. Either way, pain pills for 3 days and have to stay off of it completely for like 2-3 weeks.
SC: perhaps you’re not ready for the major leagues
DL: I am getting my walker back. I’ll knee up with my left and use my right to propel… I can still get steps in.
SC: im really sorry you’re hurting
DL: You’re loving this
SC: if there’s anything at all i can do for you, please let me know
DL: So how does it feel that the only way you can bet this girl in a week long step duel is to wait for her to injure herself?
SC: I’m taking no enjoyment in this at all. I mean it.
DL: My pain, your thrill
SC: the good news is JJ (my bar which she frequents) is handicap accessible
DL: I’m probably going to die going down my stairs
SC: so what the hell happened? how did you turn your ankle?
DL: I was getting out of car, I put my left leg out on the curb, not seeing the cigar right under my foot. When I stood and shifted weight to my left leg when getting out of the car, the cigar rolled from under my foot, my ankle rolled the other way and then I lost my balance and my ankle/foot came off the curb. Stupid fucking cigar. Who leaves a perfectly good cigar on the ground like that for clumsy women to trip on?
SC: ahhhh, the old lewisnky
DL: Go ahead and laugh. My pops was having fun laughing at me while helping me walk up the stairs. FML
SC: can you rig your fitbit on the bottom of your crutch to get extra mileage?
DL: I’m moving it to my right ankle (the one that isn’t dead to me). Once I get my walker, I might now be out of the game. Though I can’t imagine the gym will let me on the treadmill with the walker.
SC: listen, i’m sorry. i hope you feel better. And in defeat, you are victorious. If there’s anything I can get for you, perhaps a parking pass, you just let me know.
DL: Glad I could make your day even better.
i want you happy and healthy, hon. sorry you got hurt
DL: Yeah I bet
SC: and you might want to give up smoking, xoxo
DL: God this conversation keeps getting better.
SC: i’m a fan of the visuals. it’ll make for a good post. my readers like a good sequel.
I was sitting atop Elvis’ throne playing Trivia Crack when I received the official news. Unable to continue, Dr. Laura had forfeited.
It was an abrupt ending to a fiery duel, like Rocky knocking out Clubber Lang in the early rounds of their rematch at the end of Rocky III, minus the Mohawk but with all the trash-talking.
So join me, won’t you, in wishing Dr. Laura a speedy recovery. Until then… is anybody else up for a walk?