What if Donald Trump Was A Quarterback?

Let me try it this way...

It's the Super Bowl, and you're the quarterback of the defending champion. For weeks, you've been guaranteeing a victory. You boast that the only way you'll lose is if the other team, or the referees, cheat and take the game away from you.

For the sake of this discussion, the other team isn't the Patriots.

You build up a big lead early, but the other team comes back strong, and late in the fourth quarter, they score a touchdown to take the lead. Time runs out.

You complain to the refs. The refs meet, agree that the play was good, and tell you that you lost.

You throw a challenge flag. You argue that the receiver didn't catch the ball. The refs send it up to the replay booth. They watch in super slow-motion, and decide that the play was good.

You throw another challenge flag. You argue that the defense had 13 players on the field. The refs shrug, send it back up. This time, the replay booth not only confirms that the play was good, but sends down a box of tissues and tells you to leave the field.

The press box begins to empty out, except for the home paper. They hang around, and declare that the result is being challenged, so stay tuned. Please stay tuned.

You wave to the stands, and call all of your fans down onto the field to protest with you. You insist that the refs are losers, and are cheating you out of your win, just as you predicted. You tell your fans that, if they just hang in there, the score will be changed and you'll win. The beer flows like water. You keep the money.

You insist that the league office will overturn the result. You point out that you nominated almost half of the league officers, and they will be in your corner. Some of the fans, especially that one guy with war paint running down his face, start screaming that they saw the cheating, and that the scoreboard was made in China, so it shouldn't be counted.

You keep saying, if the winning team wasn't cheating, why do they object to your protests? They should just let you exhaust all of your complaints before they say that they've won. The other team walks away, champagne soaked, and begins planning their parade.

Time passes. Your fans are partying hard on the field, telling each other that there's yet another official who is going to listen... but one by one, the guys that you sent to the league to complain quit and go home. The guy with the war paint keeps yelling, so you hire him and tell him to go complain for you. He punches one of the other fans who he had just said was with him, and goes for it.

Most of the press is now talking about why you won't accept that you lost. You're losing control of the story. You keep pointing out that you were way in front after three quarters, and since the other team scored all the points in the fourth, the game must have been rigged. You argue that any points scored in the fourth quarter must be disallowed.

The free agents are all signing with the champs, and the NFL is printing merchandise with the winning team's pictures and the title Super Bowl Champions.

The league office isn't saying a word, trying desperately to keep out of the mess. Weeks go by, and the grass on the field is turning into mud... but you're still not leaving, not acknowledging that you've lost the game. The press has moved on, and is reporting on the champion's draft picks. You pout, but remain resolute that you've won.

Your team keeps looking at the door, but it knows that it only got to the Super Bowl because of you, so they don't want to make you angry. Also, you had the front office cut the last dozen players who didn't call you the best quarterback ever, so there's that.

Your most die-hard fans, remembering that you had said that the only way that you could lose is if the other team, or the league itself, cheated, hang with you on the field.

You point out that the other team had never scored so many points before, so there must be something wrong. You argue that your ratings are better than theirs, so that should prove that you won. You refuse to speak to the reporters or answer their questions, because they are being rude to you. You only speak through social media, but even they are tagging your words with disclaimers.

You begin lobbying the scorekeepers, insisting that they report the official score with you as the winner, regardless of what their scorecards say. You send a limo to bring them to the field, so that they can be impressed. They come, they leave, no progress.

You say that you'll leave the field if, and only if, the league officials who you nominated tell you to leave. You keep your fans on the field with more beer, and keep taking their money. The stadium went dark weeks ago, but you've set up your own lights, just shining on you now... your fans are kept in the dark, so they keep telling each other that they've seen something, you keep telling them that they're right, and everyone else keeps pointing out that you're wrong... except for a couple of reporters from that hometown paper, who desperately want you to keep taking their calls.

The field maintenance crew is conferring with the stadium police over how to evict you. More and more from your own team are sliding out the door when nobody is watching, and a few -- the ones that had no-cut contracts -- are saying that you should accept the loss and move on, focus on the next Super Bowl. You mention to a few friends that you might want to do just that, but that you're ticked off... and they begin trashing the locker room just to make it harder for the champs to use it.

How will it end? Eventually, the field will be needed for new games. Eventually, all of the officials -- even those on your own team -- will have acknowledged that you've lost. The league rules are pretty clear, and the decisions are final... and the NFL is getting a little tired of being laughed at around the world. The guy with the war paint running down his face is getting ridiculed, but he seems not to notice... he just keeps screaming.

The grand stands are being erected for the parade right in front of you. The calendar is moving forward. How much longer do you stay on the field?