Tanks for the Exhilaration

Having gotten the breath knocked out of him as a result of the last tackle, Frederickson walked to the sideline. He was the team's current starting quarterback, a role he excelled at. As a result he was the team's new star, the latest golden boy to have his butt kissed perpetually. It seemed that no amount of praise was too extravagant, and even the most minor of criticisms brought howls of outrage, as if his life and family had been threatened. Some fans and commentators had resorted to trashing his predecessors, who had given the best they had to the franchise, in order to prop him up. They neither understood nor cared that bringing someone down to elevate another only demeaned everyone, including the one they were trying to elevate. Frederickson had not handled this treatment well. He was becoming more arrogant and full of himself, and he had begun losing his temper over the most meaningless and harmless of uncomplimentary remarks. Some sports critics, and even many of his own teammates, viewed him as a diva. Others feared how he'd react if his supporters turned on him like they had the ones before him.
Frederickson took a seat on a bench and removed his helmet so oxygen could be administered. The trainer looked for the pump he usually used, but to his puzzlement it wasn't there. There was instead a green tank labeled "OXYGEN". He shrugged it off, grabbed the tank, placed it on the bench next to Frederickson, placed the mask over the quarterback's nose and mouth, and turned the knob to start the flow of gas. Frederickson took a couple breaths and then started coughing. The trainer was somewhat startled by this, but he told him, "Easy. Just try to breathe normally."
After a couple more breaths Frederickson's eyes began to gleam with a new light. He somehow felt exhilarated and relaxed at the same time. The crowd noise began to grow distorted, but he didn't care. His lips parted into a stupid grin and as he continued to inhale the gas he became more euphoric. The trainer's confusion turned to anxiety as he watched the QB's eyes glaze over. It seemed like the player was having trouble sitting upright. Suddenly he started laughing. As the giggle grew into a guffaw, several of the players and coaches turned to stare. One of them, not sure how to react, jokingly asked, "Did you give him weed or something?!"
The trainer turned off the tank. He started to remove the mask, but Frederickson weakly grabbed his wrist and told him, "Just a little more." The trainer ignored him and pulled free from his grip to remove the mask. Frederickson stared at him for a moment as if wanting to say something, but then he lay down on the bench and continued to chortle. The trainer looked at the tank and noticed a chip of green paint was missing, revealing blue underneath. Suddenly realizing what may be going on he used his thumbnail to scrape off more of the thin green paint, revealing more blue and confirming his suspicions.
"What's going on?!" asked a coach.
"This is a tank of nitrous oxide doctored to look like an oxygen tank!" Finding the "OXYGEN" label to be pasted on, he ripped off as much of it as he could in disgust. "He's high on laughing gas right now!"
"WHAT!? How in blazes did that happen!?"
"I'll be dipped if I know!" He looked at Frederickson, who was resting in a semi-conscious state, and wondered how this could have happened. 
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