The Greg Williams Pre-Game Show
But, really, who am I kidding?
If I own a McDonald’s and the customers are clamoring for Big Macs, what good’s it gonna do to start pushing the Filet o’ Fish?
To that end, how about a sneak preview of my Greg Williams’ feature, hard-hitting, fast-switching, movie-trailer style? I offer you a montage of edited-out snippets, superfluous nuggets and deleted scenes.
Suggestion: For maximum effect, play this Southern Rock classic in the background.
Perspective into Williams’ soul starts with discipline and depression … The working slot machine. The life jackets meticulously hung smallest to extra large. The classic ‘70s Farrah Fawcett poster positioned not far from one of the house’s two photographs of Williams and Rhyner … He has a German Luger, a “James Bond gun,” a pistol no bigger than your cell phone … Standing beside bullet-stuffed Tupperware bins stacked floor to ceiling … The Led Zeppelin biography (Hammer of the Gods) perfectly aligned alongside a copy of Guns & Ammo … He seems sane and somewhat stable, if not yet super … “After our first show I thought there was a chance we had something special. But it was more hope than know.” … Just like that, he re-popped his coke cherry … Williams broached to Cumulus Radio Vice President Dan Bennett the possibility of leaving for company-owned 99.5 FM The Wolf’s morning show ... The Ticket was founded as a fraternity. But this, make no mistake, was a mutiny … “I realized not only was I not the smartest guy in the room, I was the dumbest guy on the planet.” … He then, essentially, was handed a cigarette and blindfold … If this was The Last Supper, the main dish was cold, coagulated nachos … “There weren’t a lot of open hearts or open minds.” … The meeting ended not unlike the last episode of Seinfeld, the main characters shrugging and, without fanfare, parting ways … “It’s been a real sensitive situation. Still is. I don’t know the extent of what all went on, but I can tell you there are some very strong feelings for that guy – for and against.” … The ambiguity was frustrating. The hints nauseating … The same station that circled the emotional wagons in the wake of Carter Albrecht’s death a couple months earlier now unsympathetically abandoned Williams, diminishing him into their punch line … “After all he went through and those guys totally wrote him off? I don’t know how they sleep at night.” … Ignoring messages to his office and cell phone and a request through a mutual media friend, he refused comment … “If he calls me now, it’ll be too late. That ship has sailed.” … Nine pills per day, organized in a color-coded box: 4 in the morning; 5 at night. … “If he forgets, he’s not a person you want to be around.” … “I won’t let him go down without a fight.” … And, get this, he’s not totally pooh-poohing the thought of marriage … “Greggo made mistakes, don’t we all? I wish they’d forgve him and let him come back. Greggo’s the kind of guy who, when he gets in trouble, you want to help him out. That’s what friends are for, to pick you up when you’re down.” … For a major-market radio station, The Ticket’s turnover is unfathomably low. With continuity the mob would envy – Williams’ departure is only the second core-host transaction this century – nobody comes or goes. Unless, of course, there arises a black sheep … “I hope I never get to the point where I’m cocky enough to tell myself I’m cured. That would be dangerous.” -- Richie Whitt