Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Making the Little General blush

Coach and Brandon Wimberly at Hawaii
For whatever reason, Big Red and I have been summoned to Cashell Field House at Nevada's Mackay Stadium upon occasion to displace the Little General's attention from the spherical object he's so obsessed with; and give him a reason he's grateful for his lot in the world of football.

We'd remind him of the really important things other than winning. Like the boosters who travel with the team would appreciate a section on the plane, similar to a smoking section, where cigarettes would not be allowed, however libations mandatory.   We've taken a poll, and the weary travelers all agree such an amenity might help with some of the long trips home after a game that ended like, I don't know -  Notre Dame.

Inspirational speech to Cody Fajardo at Hawaii
With every visit we would regale the coach with stories of the community antics of inappropriate behavior, and report with whom anyone might be cavorting.  As the stories began, he'd shake his head, place it between his hands like a vice, and look down at his desk. Intermittently he'd raise his head with the look of bewilderment on his face - and at that point we'd say, "You didn't hear that from us."  Now coach isn't someone who cares much for gossip, but our job was to try to save the staff from the black cloud that may have been hovering over the field house at the time.

Sometimes we'd whisk him away to lunch where he'd announce his insistence on paying the bill, which is a bigger than life offer.  We know this because when he actually pulled his wallet out, the leather crackled like that of an aged person's arthritic knee when trying to straighten it.  The real shock was the spider crawling from the cobweb like material that had accumulated in the billfold.  I'm sure if he were ever on the pay scale behooving his talent, that wallet would have been so greased it would have landed on the table on its own.

Thanks for keeping the cannon Coach
I must confess I don't really think Coach actually looked forward to our visits, but it took time away from his boisterously vocal and colorful speeches he may have been offering to every staff person within earshot.  As a matter of fact at times he'd walk us down the hall to show us something, and it was oddly always near the exit door.  He would even try to duck into the restroom thinking he could shake us. One time he actually jumped out of his window. No, not really. A long time ago the staff moved the window locks up high so he couldn't actually attempt such a feat.

Everyone has their own opinion of our pistol creating Coach who has, by the way, changed the game forever. But you need to know, beneath his hardcore, crusty exterior - his blush meter is in full working order.  At the end of our last visit, we departed with "Hey Coach, as always, we've got your back............. Oh, and your front."  As he turned on his heel to get the paperwork filled out for the restraining order, his face was so full of blood, that I'm not sure how the remainder of his body functioned.

So I think it's safe to say,  the happiest moments in Coach's life have been his view of our backsides exiting the glass doors of Cashell Field house.  We will forever love Nevada's icon for his incredible sense of humor and his wonderful dedication.

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