AP (Overland Park): After one and half long seasons, “The Show” has finally taken its final bow. Following eight tumultuous episodes of the current season, “The Show”, after the conclusion of its 9th episode on Nov. 4th, will no longer air. For loyal fans, this news comes as a shock, but for casual observers, the writing was literally all over the wall. In fact, it was the most obvious outcome imaginable.
Connor Lamb, the executive producer of “The Show,” couldn’t be reached for an official comment, but if he could, he’d probably say something like, “Honestly, it’s a bit of a relief.”
Kennedy, Owner of “Dream Team” provided a quote on the breaking news, “As a master of content, I knew ‘The Show’s’ days were numbered. It belongs on Tubi and Spirit Airlines onboard flight entertainment. Hell, calling it entertainment is a stretch”
When asked about the untimely demise of “The Show”, Lamb reflected, “We had a great first season, but halfway into season two, the wheels came off. I lost the plot completely. The last few years have been hell for me. Who actually cares about anything other than watermelon? All I can think about is watermelon!”
Reports indicate that “The Show” has never really been the same since its stellar first season. An anonymous source from Lamb’s team, fearing retaliation from Lamb, told us, “He’s lost his mind. All he ever talks about now is something called ‘slippery watermelon.’ Nobody really knows what it is. We think it’s some children’s game where you grease up a watermelon and throw it into a pool? We’re pretty sure he made it up? We told him all the time, this is a fantasy football team, what are you talking about but, he was unrelenting about Slippery Watermelon. Someone told me he’s growing watermelons in his basement now? He’s unhinged.”
I had the chance to meet with Lamb for an interview, and things took a bizarre turn. When asked what he planned to do with all his newfound free time, Lamb’s demeanor shifted. A wide grin crept across his face, and he gleefully proclaimed, “I’ll be spending a ton of time playing slippery watermelon with all the local kids at the community pool. I’m the king of slippery watermelon” He added, “I’ll provide the watermelons. I’ve been growing them in my basement. They aren’t to sell, these are watermelons made for playing with.”
As I became increasingly uncomfortable with the obsessive watermelon talk, Lamb launched into a manic monologue, yelling, “IT’S SO FUN, YOU JUST GREASE UP A WATERMELON AND TOSS THAT BASTARD INTO THE POOL AND GO ABSOLUTELY APESH*T! WHEN THAT MELON HITS THE WATER IT’S WAR! He then proceeded to stand up from his chair and demonstrate how he would “wrangle the melon“, explaining that whoever managed to get it out of the pool would get to keep it and eat it. His performance was an uncoordinated, twisting, jerking motion—like a lame man trying to lift a wet bag of sand. It wasn’t funny, it was sad. I grimaced as this grown man unknowingly made a fool of himself.
Realizing the interview had spiraled beyond recovery, I gathered my things and headed for the door. By this point, Lamb was in a trance-like state, wandering around the room, muttering under his breath, “Oh yeah, then you get the melon home, and start eating it. Juices going everywhere. It’s a mess, such a wonderful mess… great fun… slippery watermelon.”
As I glanced back one final time, I saw him bent over, chasing what could only be an imaginary watermelon across the floor. I sighed and gently closed the door behind me. Closing this chapter.
I left that interview a changed man. My passion for quasi-sports journalism died that day—right alongside “The Show” and what was left of Lamb’s sanity. It’s a stark reminder that brilliance and madness sit on a knife’s edge, with deep empty chasms on either side. Once a champion, master of the draft, and waiver wiz-kid, Lamb is now a rudderless man, hell-bent on winning games of Slippery Watermelon instead of fantasy football.
With “The Show” finally canceled I think we can all breath a little sigh of relief knowing that Connor will be happier now. He’ll lead a simple life spending his Sundays at the Matt Ross community pool with a greased up watermelon and a diving mask to “keep the water outta my eyes.”
Good luck Connor, I hope those watermelons bring you more joy than your fantasy football team ever did.
Yours,
O’Neils
KC Guyz 