Watching the Super Bowl last night brought back some good memories. Not a lot of people know this, but I was the running backs coach on the 1982 Washington Redskins.*
This was a rough, hardnosed team, filled with lunch pail kind of guys who left it all on the field. A no nonsense, hardworking bunch manifested in a tough, take no prisoners coach Joe Gibbs. Joe Gibbs was the embodiment of that team, and that town. And the players and fans loved him.
With less than a minute left, and the clock running down three guys carried the bucket of Gatorade© and dumped it on Joe Gibbs head. And the party was on. I was so excited I picked up a cup of Gatorade™ and threw it in Joe Gibbs face.
The Defensive Line coach was so moved by my act of spontaneous celebration that he hurled a bottle of Gatorade® at Joe Gibbs head. The bottle caught Joe Gibbs right in the temple dazing him slightly. Joe Gibbs fell to his hands and knees.
Soon, everybody was dumping their drink on Joe Gibbs. People were streaming from the stands to douse Joe Gibbs. When the line got too long, people, (fans, players, vendors, referees, cameramen, and announcers) all started throwing drinks at everyone. The Tight Ends Coach was knocked unconscious by a half empty beer keg.
Soon the sideline was ankle deep in sticky, smelly goop. And we were accessed a fifteen yard penalty for a “sideline violation.”
When the final gun sounded the party began. The next year I left the team to pursue neater, cleaner career opportunities. I was too old for that kind of silliness, and Joe Gibbs always blamed me. I don’t know why.
*Not really, this is fiction, and despite being an obvious lie it makes the post much more believable.