The championship parade covered only 1.1 miles. But as Aaron Donald danced, drank, roared, blew kisses and flexed his cartoonish muscles, his mind drifted beyond the raucous celebration. As thousands screamed and chanted at the six double-decker buses carrying the jovial superstar and his Rams teammates, they rolled away from the Shrine Auditorium in downtown Los Angeles, snaking along Figueroa Street, inching toward the Coliseum.
Donald bounced and sipped and hugged along the route, his gold chain and diamond-studded “99” pendant flopping from neck to chin. So much had aligned to make the party possible. Stay in the moment, he reminded himself. He wished to remember the details of that day forever, so he waved away potential distractions such as his future, the subject of an endless discussion. Retire or return?
He was certain of only one thing that afternoon, a private tradition of sorts he planned to show a wider audience. “I get a little tipsy and take my shirt off,” he says. “That’s what I do.”
