This past Sunday, The New England Patriots destroyed the Indianapolis Colts 45–7 and earned another trip to the Super Bowl.
And now Patriots tight end Rob Gronkowski’s mom helps her son pack for the big game in Phoenix.
Mom: See, Rob?! Look at Google. Phoenix is definitely in Arizona. You owe me — what did we bet again?
Rob: Ugh, 2 million dollars.
(Rob takes 2 million dollars from his pocket)
Rob: Well, regardless, I still wanna see that Hollywood sign some day.
Mom: We’ll go this summer. For now, just finish packing.
Rob: I can’t get this jerk bag to shut.
Mom: Let me take a look.
Mom: Um, Rob. There’s only footballs in here.
Rob: Yeah, that’s what I play! Will you sit on it while I zip?
Mom: Have you considered deflating these?
Rob: NO! I did that on Sunday and got in big trouble with Football Dad!
Mom: Again, his name is Bill. And, regardless, I think you’re gonna want to wear some clothes.
Rob: That’s not what the cover of ESPN Magazine said!
Mom: If the cover of ESPN Magazine told you to jump off a bridge, would you?!
Mom: Well I’m still gonna put some socks and underwear in here. You’ll thank me later.
Rob: Do you think we’ll have time to see the Good Canyon while we’re there?
Mom: The Grand Canyon, Rob.
Rob: WHAT?! I bet you 2 million dollars it’s called the—
Mom: You need to stop betting 2 million dollars on stuff. And you’re getting a map for your birthday.
Rob: OK, this bag’s packed! 1, 2 SET! ALPHA GO!
(Rob launches full bag through glass window and into street. It’s an impressively good spiral for a wheelie suitcase.)
Mom: ROB! Glass doesn’t grow on trees!
Rob: Sorry, Mom.
Rob: Leaves do though, right?
Mom: Yes, Rob, leaves do.
Rob: Nailed it.
Mom: Are you nervous at all about the game?
Rob: I’ll be fine. Me and Rocket Raccoon have been in way worse situations.
Mom: Honey, we’ve been over this. You’re not Groot.
Rob: I sure look like Groot.
Mom: I’ll give you that. But trust me, he’s pretend.
Rob: (whining) I’ll never get to go to outer space…
Mom: Let’s focus on the game.
Rob: Long as we win the coin toss we’re fine.
Mom: What are you gonna call?
Rob: I told Tom to throw scissors.
Mom: No, sweetie.
Mom: I think I see Belichick in the driveway. Make sure he calls me when you get there, OK?