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Wednesdays with Ed
I don't know of any coach who doesn't have to rely on his wonderful
family from time to time. Hell, more than once, the lovely Mrs. O has
had to slap some sense into a boy's mama who was a little hesitant
about signing a letter-of-intent. It's the same for me. Hell,
our recruiting has been so BY-GOD outstanding at Ole Miss lately that
it's required more than just me and my staff to handle it. After all,
Ole Miss is the school of BY-GOD opportunity. We don't have a bunch of
dead weight hanging around here. I tell a boy "If you are good enough
to beat somebody out for your position, hell, we're not wasting
groceries on his ass any more. We'll give him a damn bus ticket to
Delta State!" Plus, we have great facilities. Like The Eli Manning
Indoor Complex!! The Eli Manning Weight Room!!! The Eli Manning Wax
Museum!!! And The Ben Obamanu Dropped Ball Clinic!!! We think that's
funny as hell. Anyway, with all this by-god opportunity, it's
been more than me and the staff can handle. So, like many coaches, I
turned to my family for support. (Editor's Note: Coach O's
father-in-law was to be buried in an Ole Miss shirt recently, but
turned out to be drunk, not dead. The shirt has subsequently been
ripped to shreds) One family member I can always count on is
my uncle, Jean-Pierre-Diderot Orgeron. I said "Uncle Didi, we have done
offered all the high school boys in Mississippi! We've offered all the
junior high boys in Mississippi! But we just ain't had time to hit the
elementary schools! So that's where I need your help. Get to those
elementary schools and start offering!!!" Well, things turn out
funny sometimes. Blame this one on ol' Coach O. My fault. My bad. I
intend to beat my own ass with a tire iron as soon as get the time.
Because it seems, in my haste, that I did not specify to Uncle Didi
that I wanted him to offer "football scholarships." Hell, I just said
"offers..." Well, seems that Uncle Didi had sort of a past
history of making "offers" at the elementary school, if you get my
drift. And, naturally enough, there's always some sissy-ass parents who
don't see that sort of thing makes a boy tougher in the long run. No,
they had to go calling the cops. Well, they run Uncle Didi in
and he's got to share a cell with some STARKVILLERS and other low-life,
but they do let him have his one phone call. (See above). So I go down
to the station and I say "Boys, you been mighty good to me! You been
mighty good to my players! You been mighty good to my assistant
coaches! Now I am asking you to extend the same damn courtesy to my
uncle, who was just expressing some natural urges." So they all
said "Hotty Toddy, O, and turned him loose quicker than Tuberville
crossing the LaFayette County line. We did agree to take Uncle Didi off
the elementary schools, though. We've shifted him over to fertilizer
duty at the Eli Manning Practice Field, and he's taken to that pretty
well. In the meantime, we're still recruiting our asses off.
Some-damn-body told me the other day that it was some sort of NCAA Dead
Period and I said "Fine, then we won't recruit any damn boys who are
dead in this period. And if the N-C-By-God-A don't like that, they
can..." Be of good cheer.
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