Monroe is a very serious man, with a very serious cause. He generally speaks in a commanding monotone even when he's joking, and he is relentlessly on message. Now, though, he begins to laugh, and so do I, because I've always wanted to know what professional football is really like, in the middle of the maelstrom, and now I do:
It's like drugs, man.
Eugene consumes cannabis all day long, but he's not getting high all day long. With his food, he takes something called CBD hemp oil, which is low in THC (the ingredient in marijuana that gets you high) and high in cannabidiol (the ingredient in marijuana that's supposed to get you well). He extols the powers of selective botany, particularly as manifested in strains of marijuana that make you feel good "without the euphoria." For tonight's pre-workout ritual on the patio, however, he has chosen a strain that former lineman Kyle Turley suggested at a golf tournament fundraiser for a study of marijuana as a treatment for signs of CTE. It's called "Jack Herer," and Eugene, when he nimbly his cbd apparatus up as twisty as the roots of old trees, is definitely partaking in it. He hands me the object, tells me to "just press the button," and when I do, "the Jack," as he calls it, hits my lungs like a fist that opens into a hand waving goodbye, and I begin coughing from somewhere around my kneecaps. "That was a big hit, man," he says, with raised eyebrow, and he heads for his basement to begin his workout...