Forum Classics

If Coach O hired Writer Mike McKenzie, Vol. 5

Posted by King Biscuit on May 24, 2006

Wednesdays with Ed

My silly-ass website guy is really a pain, but he did have an interesting idea the other day.

He said "Coach O, at one school where I used to work, they had a neat idea that they called 'Night of Champions.' They had a night where the players did some weightlifting exhibitions and the fans would come and people liked it."

"Well, that sounds like some BY-GOD sissified Starkville horse manure to me," I said. "Have you ever seen any barbells on a BY-GOD football field? No. If they would let you pick up a 30-pound free weight and whomp some damn Arkansas quarterback in the head with it ,then that MIGHT make some sense."

Still, Coach O is nothing, if not fan-friendly. So I finally decided that I'd do something in order to shut up the damn incessant whining about how they want us to score a touchdown in SEC play this year, which I think is a damn OVER-RATED achievement for a team. Anyway, I figured, might as well give 'em something to cheer about.

Instead of some lame-ass weightlifting, though, I figured we would combine fan entertainment with some drills that might hopefully mold some of these sumbitches into actual OLE MISS MATERIAL.

First, I had to think of something for these useless damn 180-pound wide receivers and cornerbacks and all that crap that are taking up VALUABLE SCHOLARSHIPS in a day and age when the NCAA is talking about LIMITING a team to a measly 350 scholarships, or so I hear from our compliance department.

So our first event was Live Chicken Chasing, which didn't prove much, although it did get some blood and feathers flying in the old Tad Smith Coliseum. Eventually, most of our damn NON-LINEMEN managed to catch and kill one. Mico McSwain won the event -- he killed 43 and had to be pulled off one of our old fans who looked like Colonel Sanders -- which seemed to me to express a little HOTTY-TODDY attitude, By God.

Then we went outside for the Yanking a Volkswagen Out Of A Ditch competition. Again, there was disappointment. Our first big ol' lineman reached down and grabbed the bumper and pulled the VW up, so I walk over there and I say "Boy, this damn VE-HICLE is in NEUTRAL. Do you consider that a challenge, by God? That's weak-ass Hattiesburger action. Do you think when Auburn puts a big-ass Chette Williams-bought nose tackle in there, his ass is gonna be in NEUTRAL? HELL no. So you roll that ve-hicle back down there, put it in BY-GOD Park, and jerk it out of there."

That took a while, but we finally got a winner, some fat ol' boy whose name I don't remember and may never learn since he apparently hot-wired the VW and drove it back to Itta Bena, saying the previous staff "promised him" one.

We went back inside and I put on a little shirt-tearing exhibition. Then we had Ramming Your Head Against the Wall, and showed poor form, so once again I had to demonstrate the correct form to our players.

I was double-damn DISGUSTED at this point so I said "Holy Mother of Eli! This group makes me want to THROW UP." So I beat hell out of 20 or 30.

Finally, I said "I'm going to find SOMETHING that you weak-ass sumbitches can do that will not EMBARRASS this GREAT INSTITUTION." So I just brought out some folding chairs and told them to sit down, then I had our Rebelettes bring 'em all a cold Falstaff Beer.

"Ain't this nice, boys?" I said. "See, Coach O, can be your FRIEND and have a little pink tea-party, which is APPARENTLY what you pansy-asses want. Hell, have another."

Well, we keep at that for about an hour. all of a sudden one of our damn quarterbacks makes a move to stand up.

"Where you think you a-going, son?"

"I gotta pee, Coach O."

"Oh, no, son. This is the last event. The Test of Wills. So just get your ass back in that folding chair and have another Falstaff."

Well, it built up slow. Our fans were sitting around talking about the 1962 team like they always do, but as some of those boys started crying or passing out around the six-hour mark, they started to pick up on it.

So I gave a little speech. I said "How the HELL can you expect to stop the mighty Crimson Tide of Alabama if you can't hold back a little ol' tide in the bladder. Hell, some of you boys can't even hold back the Tulane Green Wave, judging from the floor in this place!!"

"You tell 'em, O!" the crowd yelled, and then they did a special Hotty Toddy.


Still, by the 12-hour mark, things were getting messy and at the 18-hour mark, there wasn't but three of us left -- me, BenJarvus Green-Ellis and Vicente DeLoach. They were both crying pretty good, though, so I said "Hell, let's settle this." So I stood up on the table and said "I'm going to RIP THE LIVER outta the first boy that PEES A DROP!"

Unfortunately, that scared them both so bad that they both let go at the same time. Thus, we had a Night of Co-Champions instead.

Mrs. O's Corner this week is about Brent Shaffer's work with poor children and cripples and stuff and how he just didn't have time to go to all those damn junior college classes.

Be of good cheer.