I scan both of their faces, attempting to confirm that they're kidding. 'It's time for your heart,' Michael says. 'Oh, is that water, Jimmy? It better be!' Martellus wags his finger at an imaginary organ donor. I'd be like, 'My kidney's failing - it's time!'' 'I would have somebody who has my blood type and my kidneys - stuff like that,' Michael says. When I ask the brothers what they would collect if they were as wealthy as the Cowboys' owner, they respond at the same time and without skipping a beat: 'People.' 'Once you get rich,' he says, 'you start collecting weird s- like silverware.' As Martellus finishes his soup, he tells a story about the time he visited the billionaire's mansion for tea and perused Jones' selection of fancy cutlery. Take, for example, our conversation about Jerry Jones. This is a lesson that everyone who encounters the Bennetts eventually learns: At any given moment, they might be screwing with you. The waitress asks whether they want anything else. 'Can I have some more tortilla strips? I like that crunch.' Martellus dips a spoon into the bowl she has placed in front of him. (He did, in fact, order the chicken.) 'What kind of salt y'all got? Himalayan salt?' 'Don't be racist,' he says, a joke that causes her hands to tremble a little as she sets down the plate. 1 goal.'Ī waitress approaches and asks Michael whether he ordered the roast chicken. 'I always wanted to look like: 'Is he homeless or is he rich?'' he says. Michael, who is stouter, says his facial hair is supposed to be disorienting. They're both wearing ripped black jeans and designer T-shirts and have soft beards that frame their chins like fuzzy halos. If not for their massive builds - Michael is 6-foot-4 and Martellus 6-foot-6 - the two NFL stars could easily be confused for LA hipsters.

We find a table on the patio, and the brothers sit next to each other. The guy stares at him, trying to deduce why a stranger is telling him to wear a condom. 'Wrap it up,' he counsels a man walking out the door. Michael circles a display of expensive sweets ('I don't eat American chocolate,' he sniffs), and Martellus hovers near the entrance, offering health and safety advice to customers as they leave the restaurant.

The brothers split up as soon as they walk in. This becomes clear when we stop for lunch at a West Hollywood café, the kind of crunchy, actressy place that serves food on wooden boards.

MICHAEL AND MARTELLUS Bennett tend to perplex people. Michael announced his retirement on Tuesday.

NFL, New England Patriots, Seattle Seahawks, Chicago BearsĮditor's note: This story about Michael and Martellus Bennett was originally published on Aug. You have reached a degraded version of because you're using an unsupported version of Internet Explorer.įor a complete experience, please upgrade or use a supported browser

Young Donald by Michael Bennett