That could be true. Kind of. But, Hugh Douglas, former defensive end of the Philadelphia Eagles, says he's not convinced. On today's 610 WIP morning show in Philadelphia, Douglas revealed the not-so-shocking truth that football players sometimes drop their towels on purpose once they find out the media will be around. Douglas took my phone call (for once) and offered to expand, hence completing Deadspin's wall-to-wall dong reporting for the day.

I asked Hugh if he seriously thinks Visanthe Shiancoe knew the cameras were on while he was exposed and he said that while he was playing for the Eagles, it happened so often that it became a running joke.

HD: "Cats'd be dropping their towels all the time, be butt-ass nekkid all the time, man, just trying to be funny. Especially if there were female reporters in the locker room? If they think they got it, they're gonna show their stuff."

(Note: Hugh Douglas is probably the only man left in America who can use "cats" this way and not sound like an idiot.)

HD: "I guarantee you Shiancoe or whatever his name is doesn't give a damn. And I guarantee you that if he's a single man, he's gonna get a lot more ass the next time he goes home."

So, did you drop your towel all the time too?

HD: "No, I didn't do it. But Hollis [Thomas, former Eagle, current Saint] would do it all the time. Anytime there would be a female reporter in the locker room he'd just let it all hang out. Hollis was funny like that. He'd always try to get people to look at him."

Did anybody ever look?

HD: "Oh, we caught a couple of 'em looking. Some would look all the time. But one girl, Courtney Holt? Never ever broke eye contact. "

(Note: Courtney Holt used to be a guest coordinator/producer for Comcast Sportsnet in Philly. She's now a talent booker for the Golf Channel.)

HD: "Yeah, Hollis would always try get Courtney. He'd sit there with his legs spread, rubbing lotion on his nuts. She wouldn't ever look down, though. She was a true professional."

Poor Courtney!:

HD: "Yeah, right? Poor Courtney."

So who else was a chronic towel-dropper?

HD: "Oh, [Al] Harris. Al would find out there would be media around and he'd drop his towel and walk slowly across the locker room. Then he'd be all bending over and shit. He was into it too."

So, you're telling me that Shiancoe knew what he was doing the whole time, that it wasn't an accident?

" I'd never even heard of the guy until this happened. And the more people that know about him now, well, he's not embarrassed about what they know about him. He thinks he's got it and — obviously he does — so he's proud of it."

Thank you, Hugh.This was enlightening. Have a good holiday.

"No problem. You too."

Hopefully, Douglas vouching for Courtney Holt's locker room professionalism, even while she's confronted with yards of athlete junk, is something that will help her get an on-camera reporting job. Just not in New Orleans.

First up, current Boston Daily editor Paul Flannery, who was an Eagles beat reporter with the Delaware County Times, and had this unfortunate run-in with former Eagles defensive end Hugh Douglas.

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Hugh Douglas just called me a motherfucking asshole. Not just an asshole. Or a motherfucker. A motherfucking asshole. Now, Hugh Douglas is a large man. That's a given, but it's hard to comprehend just how big NFL defensive ends actually are until you are being called a motherfucking asshole by one.

On most days, Hugh was a great quote. He's smart and very funny, and he also completely understood that you were going to ask him some dumb-ass questions, and he was going to give you something good. And when he did give you something less than his A+ material, he'd laugh to let you know that he knows that it's crap, but that's all you're getting, probably because Andy Reid had told him to stop being so damn funny and smart.

Not on this day, though. Hugh is pissed, and I'm the one who pissed him off. The Eagles had just lost on a last-second field goal. Maybe that's why he was mad. I don't really know, but I also don't have time to figure it out, because he picked me out of the pack and now I have a bigger problem. Again: How does one respond to a 270-pound man calling you a motherfucking asshole? I ran through the various scenarios until I settled on Hold your ground. Yeah. He'll respect that.

But I didn't. Instead I said, "What?"

There are a million different comebacks I could have come up with, but "What?" probably wasn't my best option, because now Hugh is really screaming at me and everyone left in the locker room is now staring at us. Meanwhile, I'm still frozen. They didn't offer this class in journalism school.

Finally, a friend yanked me out of the way, and a couple of the veteran beat guys got between us, but Hugh still yelled over to me, "You're telling your friends that I'm an asshole now, aren't you? You're the asshole." I was really in no position to argue that point. Finally, he left and I went back upstairs to bang out a few stories.

I still don't know why I pissed Hugh off, but I know that I did because this story has a coda. A couple of months later, I see Hugh and Hollis Thomas whispering and looking in my general direction, which I figure is probably bad news. I decide to lay low and continue with my busy schedule of standing around and waiting for Koy Detmer. Still, I know something's coming, and when it finally does, I'm not entirely surprised.

What happened was this: Hollis snuck up behind me and let loose with a blood-curdling scream mere inches from my right ear. Then Hollis laughed. Then Hugh laughed. Surveying the scene, a columnist from the Inquirer just looked at me and said, "Huh."