Stop me if you’ve heard this one…

A linebacker, a pitcher, and a tennis player walk into a bar.

“Gimme a beer!â€? the linebacker yells.

“Coming up,â€? I say.

“A pitcher for the pitcher!â€? calls the pitcher.

“You got it!â€?

“How about some love?â€? the tennis player asks.

I pull the lever to pour my first pint and slide it down the bar to the linebacker. He downs it and goes, leaving a tip at the end of the bar.

The other two inch closer, shouting their drink orders. Maybe they think I didn’t hear them the first time?

I pour the pitcher’s beer. He takes it to a corner of the bar and drinks. I start to pour Miss Evert’s beer, but before I can finish, Doc Gooden slides his empty back up and is already yelling for another. I rush to catch it before it can hit the floor, and pour his second just to get him out of here.

But now Evert thinks I’ve been ignoring her. She’s pissed. And she’s strong. She throws me onto the bar and slides me headfirst into the wall.

Man, do I hate Happy Hour…