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.
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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.
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