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Traveling Incognito down Brutish Boulevard

 It’s time to pay another visit to that famed psychologist to the sports world, Dr. Quincy Quackenbush:
  Dr. Quackenbush: “My, you’re a big one. And your name, sir, is Mr. …”
  Richie Incognito: “Incognito.”
DQ: “Sir, I can’t help you if you don’t even trust me enough to reveal your real name.”
RI: “I did. It’s ‘Incognito.’”
DQ: “OK, I guess for the sake of my records and, more importantly, my billing information, I’ll simply refer to you as ‘Mr. Smith.’”
RI: “But, Dr., my name really is ‘Incognito.’”
  DQ: “Against my better judgment, I’m respecting your right to privacy, Mr. Smith. I don’t normally do that, but you appear to be someone who is fully capable of rearranging my office while I’m sitting in the middle of it, so I’m trying to stay on your good side.”


RI (growing angry): “Look, you quack …”
DQ: “That’s ‘Quackenbush.’ You really do have difficulty with names, don’t you?”
RI: (even angrier) “Listen, pal, you’re going to have difficulty putting your hat on your head after I knock your block off. I don’t like being subjected to your smart-aleck tone, and you’re going to be sorry if you don’t shut it down real quick!”
DQ: “Oh, now I know you — you’re Richie Incognito. I didn’t realize it until you unleashed that completely uncalled-for verbal outburst. Gee, with the baggage you’re carrying around with you, no wonder you’re sitting in my office right now.”
RI: “You’re going to be sitting in an unconscious heap if you don’t zip that lip, Skippy!”
DQ: “It’s ‘Quincy,’ not ‘Skippy,’ but if it’ll spare me a thrashing, then ‘Skippy’ it is. I’ve noticed in our few short moments together, Mr. Incognito, that you have some serious anger issues. I’m glad to see that you’ve sought out professional help to get those under control.”
RI: “They made me do it.”
DQ: “‘They?’”
RI: “Miami Dolphins management and the NFL. They said I needed to get a firm grip on my emotions before I’d get a chance to play again, and you were recommended to me. People have said you’ve helped other guys in my position.”
DQ: “No, I don’t think I’ve ever dealt with an offensive lineman before.”
RI: “You really are a wiseacre, aren’t you?”
DQ: “Whatever wisdom I have obtained has been acquired through years of arduous study, much like you’ve done yourself, I assume. If I recall correctly, you were quite the star pupil at the University of Nebraska.”
RI: “Well, I did OK until I got into some trouble.”
DQ: “So you were smart, just not smart enough to steer clear of potential problem areas. What caused you to screw up?”
RI: “I was young and a football player.”
DQ: “I understand the first part, but what does the second have to do with anything?”
RI: “Come on, Doc, we’re talking the University of Nebraska here, where football is king. Nothing is more important to the people of Nebraska in the fall than Cornhuskers football — because of that, every one of us who has ever suited up on game day is revered to the point where almost any sort of bad conduct gets overlooked.”
DQ: “So what you’re telling me is that you had absolutely no qualms about abusing your privileged status and engaging in antisocial behavior?”
RI: “Yeah, that’s about the size of it.”
  DQ: “And, by extension, you just figured you could keep on doing the same stupid things once the NFL came calling for you.”
RI: “Why not? Doc, how many pro football players have you dealt with? We’ve all got a screw loose to begin with -- how else could you convince grown men to keep pummeling each other game after game, season after season?”
DQ: “This latest episode with Jonathan Martin, though, has taken a particularly ugly twist. How do you defend yourself against your accusers?”
RI: “First off, Doc, I need to know — are you one of them?”
DQ: “Well, Mr. Incognito, it’s difficult to ignore the facts as spelled out in various media accounts …”
RI: “Since when did telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help their editors become part of a journalist’s job description?”
DQ: “But then we also have public statements made by Mr. Martin. Are we supposed to disregard those, too?”
RI: “Hey, Johnny knows I’m his buddy, his pal, his chum. Boy, if a friend can’t ridicule you, who can?”
DQ: “But it’s evident that Mr. Martin felt the things you said were spoken with vitriol, not in friendship. Doesn’t that bother you?”
RI: “Well, now that I’ve been suspended, yes it does. But I’ve tried to cope with it as best I can — that’s why I went out and got myself a new car.”
DQ: “Did that make you feel any better about the situation?”
RI: “I could get away from nosy media slime faster with the new wheels, so I’d have to say that, yes, it did make me feel better.”
DQ: “But what about Mr. Martin’s feelings that he was the target of verbal abuse from you? How does he resolve those?”
RI: “I’ve got to tell you — a hot new ride would clear his head in a jiffy. I’ll even take him on a short trip in mine so he can make a more informed decision.”
DQ: “And that’s all?”
RI: (growing angry again): “What am I supposed to do? Hand over the keys to my car to him? I mean, I had to land quite a few low blows over my years in the NFL to stay in the lineup, which is what enabled me to afford such a luxury.”
DQ: “So do you think you’ve done anything wrong?”
RI: “Ever? Sure. I beat up a few neighborhood kids years ago because they got on my nerves, and I didn’t always eat all my vegetables and …”
DQ: “No, I’m talking about now, with Jonathan Martin.”
RI: “I never did anything to hurt him physically.”
DQ: “What about psychologically?”
RI: “You’re the shrink — you tell me.”
DQ: “Sorry to say, I think you did. I sense that you’re a classic bully, Mr. Incognito, someone with whom there is no reasoning. You use your physical size to intimidate people and seek to obtain whatever you can through sheer force, and whoever doesn’t measure up to your warped view of machismo is made to feel inferior through your taunting and whatever other means you see fit to employ.”
RI: “Wow, you got me pegged pretty good. So does that mean you’ll clear me to play again?”
DQ: “I don’t think so.”
RI: “You sure you don’t want to reconsider? Trust me, little man, you won’t like the view from the trunk of my car.”