This is Part Three of his account of the world behind the curtain.
Post-Game: When the game gets over, the journalists run onto the field. Then, it's a mad dash scramble to talk to any players who will give you the time of day. By this time, the WWMT photographer has given me our wireless microphone, so it's my job to grab anyone who will stop and shove the mike in his face. I'm also freaking out because I want to get some pictures with my still camera, but I had installed a wicked, too-powerful zoom lens on it. So I'm running on the field, and I see Charles Rogers walking toward me. When he gets within 10 feet of me, I lift up my camera, but the zoom is too strong. I start running back toward the tunnel to get enough room so I don't end up with a shot of his nostril or something. But Rogers keeps moving, so I end up with nothing.
The Locker Room: Journalists split up at this point. Some head to the interview room, others split between the two teams. But you can't enter the locker rooms right away. Probably coach-on-player yelling and stuff like that. Or so I figure. The journalists make small talk until the doors open and we all run in to find... Avert Your Eyes! Full frontal and backal nudity everywhere you look. Gah! Why did no one warn me? I thought they'd still be in uniforms or changed into street clothes by now. But no. They're sporting nothing but a towel... if you're lucky. I've officially seen far more of my gridiron heroes than anyone should ever be exposed to. The weirdest thing is that all the reporters and photographers just sort of congregate in the middle of the room. It's really, really quiet. I mean deadly silence. Odd. Then, Dre Bly is dressed and one reporter approaches him. And... The Flock: Whenever one guy starts talking, all the journalists practically run at him. I get my mike in position and some guy from a radio show starts asking questions. Everyone just listens intently, while the one guy runs the show. You'd think everyone would be shouting questions, but it was like we all counted on the one guy to do the dirty work. I don't know whether they were intimidated, or what. The same thing happens to one degree or another as players get dressed and file out. Sometimes, players draw a big crowd. Other times, it's small. We weren't getting much of anything, interview-wise. You think that a locker room would be like in the movies, where one guy's locker is filled with old mementos and things, but the Lions locker room is really just about 65 big, wooden cubbies. The only things in them are what the players bring to the game that day. Each one has a plate with a number above it, but equipment people come and rip those out pretty quickly. Also, the jerseys, helmets, pads and pants have all disappeared. That leads to... The Awkward Interview: Ninety-nine percent of the time, you see NFL players with their helmets and jerseys on, so it's easy to tell them apart. And you'll know a few star players by their faces. But take away the helmet, the pads, the jersey and all their clothes, and all those players start looking like a bunch of anonymous, ripped, semi-naked dudes. Our photographer approaches one such guy (later revealed to be Olandis Gary) and asks him a question about how hard it is to deal with Daunte Culpepper. The guy sitting next to him leans over to the photographer and says, "He plays offense, man." Gulp. The photographer covers, saying, "It's alright, he can answer." And then the guy (whoever he was) answers, while the guy in the next locker just shakes his head and smiles. After a few more questions, and after I have wracked my brain unsuccessfully for this guy's identity, I decide to get ballsy. "Do you think you guys are being aggressive enough?" I ask. "I can't answer that," he says. "That's not nice, man. You tried to slip one past me." He lowers his head to put on his sock and it's clear, this interview is over. What'd I do? I just meant to say that the offense only clicked during the game when they went down the field. And if this guy was a player on the offense, I thought he might want to do that more often. Instead, he sorta blows up at me. Huh? I wonder if he thought I meant the players weren't being aggressive enough. Mental note: Clarify your questions and beware of anything potentially controversial. I quickly pick up that all the answers we were going to hear are the same, stupid cliches you always hear, about "one game at a time" and "mental errors" and "execution" and blah, blah, blah. That's pretty disappointing. I'm told they're usually a lot more fun to interview after a win. Anyway... The Interviews Continue: We speak to Az-Zahir Hakim, who is shorter than I expected. (I also didn't recognize him until someone told me who he was.) And then we talk to Mike McMahon. McMahon went in for one play, when Harrington's finger was dislocated. So we ask him questions, but what's he going to tell us? Dude was in for one play. Everyone was just biding their time until someone important would come along. As I held the mike on Mike, I get tapped on the shoulder and then I start to freak out over what I hear from the voice attached to the tapping finger... "Joey needs to get in his locker." McMahon's locker is next to Harrington's, and I'm blocking him from getting his stuff. How cool is that? Big, strong, multi-millionaire and young NFL stud Joey Harrington can't get to his stuff because I'm in the way. You'd think he'd just shove me aside or something, but Lions' P.R. boy has to ask me to move for His Excellency. At this point, I move closer to McMahon to give Joey his space, but I'm also looking over my shoulder because Joey Harrington is rummaging through is locker inches away from me. And I'm still partially blocking his locker. What's he thinking? And why are we all still talking to McMahon when the starting QB is right behind me??? I'm telling you, it was surreal. There was no rhyme or reason as to who got interviewed. I don't get it. Later, I see Joey joking around with some guys from the team, but no one ever approaches him for an interview. What's up with that?
Really quickly, all the players file out except... Robert Porcher: First off, the dude's pectorals are huge. But being the last Lion left, and really one of the important ones, all the cameras and reporters silently assemble around his locker. Like some sixth sense tells us we're allowed. We wait and wait and wait as he puts on his shirt with his back to us. He buttons up and slowly turns around. Porcher was the longest interview and had the most reporters huddled around. By this point, my arm is killing me, since I've been holding the microphone straight out for about a half hour. I think about asking another question, but since I shut down What's His Face, I don't want to wreck the Porcher thing. I stay quiet and let the vets handle things. After that, the locker room is empty. That was quick... A few minutes of housekeeping TV activities later, the photographer is ready to leave. And I leave because I don't know what else to do. I guess in hindsight, I might have walked around the locker room or tried to go back and check out the replay room. I don't know. In any case, we walk up the tunnel and into daylight. But the cherry on top of the day was across the street. Music was flowing from Comerica Park.
Remember when musicians actually sang and played instruments? So that was my day. But before my conclusion, I should mention one more thing...
That's where the Alan Alda/Paper Lions/Second City connection comes in. See? It all ties together. Conclusion: It was a day I'll never forget. For any fan of the NFL, it was a dream come true. I looked around at all the journalists, jaded and impartial, and felt like they were missing out. I've rooted for this team my entire life, and I got to stand on the field with them, ask them questions, run with them and see far too much of them. For all the TV hype, the glitz, the glamour, the dollars and the press, they're just guys. They sweat. They shower. They get shy around reporters. They get depressed when they lose. They put their pants on one leg at a time. The fact that we boil those people down to statistics is kind of sad. What if our jobs came down to numbers? What if complete and total strangers had money riding on us coming through difficult points in our careers? It's definitely a lot to think about. No one makes video games of me producing a newscast. And if they did, what would my stat levels be? Looking at Az Hakim, I just kept thinking about how he's the Lions' best receiver in Madden 2003. But he's an actual guy, not a video game character. It's got to be a lot of pressure to have people in the stands wearing your jersey, shelling out hundreds of dollars for tickets and merchandise and posters. But after all my experiences of that day, I found myself with a new perspective. I'll still root for the team, but I also want those people to succeed. And I also want a date with Lara. But some dreams never come true. 
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Then I see a stopped Viking. I run up and shove the mike in his face. But I can't recognize him. He's a white guy and he's talking about "coming back" to Detroit. What white former Lion plays for the Vikings? I can't remember, but this guy is tall. I totally don't even recognize him until the interview's over and he starts to run away. It was backup QB Gus Frerotte. (I should have asked him about the time he concussed himself on the wall at RFK.) I also didn't recognize him, because every time I've seen the guy, it's a straight-on view and he's got the unibrow thing going on.
At this point, just about everyone is heading for the locker room. I wheel around to see that I'm about arm's length from Joey Harrington. Again, I whip up the camera. Again, I'm too close because of the blasted zoom lens. I stay put as Joey walks away, and my picture leaves something to be desired. My photographer tells me we're headed to the locker room and I follow the boys past a group of fans screaming for their autographs.
We also speak with kick returner Eddie Drummond, who's on crutches because of an in-game injury. You see those things happen on TV, but you rarely get to see the guy, in person, hobbling around. It hit home. Eddie asks us to shoot him from the waist up. He's wearing dark blue jeans with a hole in the knee. I think about asking if he was glad his ankle injury happened on FieldTurf instead of the Silverdome asphalt, but he doesn't seem like he's in a joking mood. All the players are very polite and accomodating in their interviews. I didn't expect that.
The Boss: Bruce frickin' Springsteen was doing a full-bore soundcheck for his concert that night. So he's over there singing "Lonesome Day," and a small crowd has gathered at each of the fences to see him on stage. I climb a fence and use my camera's mega-zoom to get a closer peek. At first, I thought it might have been a recording, but that was indeed the man. As I walk back to my car, I can hear him belting it out.
Second City: Detroit On my way to the game, I stopped in the Hockeytown Cafe. Turns out that's where Second City: Detroit is housed. Feeling frisky, I helped myself and walked right in to the theatre. No one was inside, so I got up and walked around on stage. I like Chicago better. Chicago is more of a club. There are tables and chairs, so you can drink or eat during the show. Detroit is more of a movie theatre-type setup, with upholstered chairs. Drinking is conducive to a more receptive audience, so I don't know what's up with that. I also walked around backstage and saw that they had a papier mache Stanley Cup. A nice touch and definitely a good prop for Hockeytown. It's a pretty nice venue, but it's no Chicago. I filed that away for future use.
