Tuesday, February 15, 2011

How Dare You, Urban Meyer

The scene opens inside a cabin buried deep in the woods of western Pontotoc County, Mississippi.  The cabin is elaborately furnished, filled with every modern convenience, expensive liquor, cheap beer and a picture of the late Charley Pell hanging above the fireplace.  No one knows for sure, but according to black helicopter-spotting Mississippi State fans, the cabin is owned by a banker from Indianola and is used by Ole Miss to entertain and corrupt high school football recruits.

Billy Brewer and Mike DuBose speak in hushed voices in front of the fire about redneck related matters, Phil Fulmer sips a drink while staring out one of the windows into the black night and Jackie Sherrill prepares a cheese tray in the kitchen.

Brewer:  So then I said, you sumbitch, Turner, I'll fight this like a hog caught in a grease fire with no way out but a hole big enough for an armadillo.

DuBose:  You sure as hell did not, did you?

Brewer:  You bet your damn ass I did.  Boy turned white as Phil's upper thighs.

Sherrill enters the room carrying the cheese tray and sets it on the table.

Sherrill:  Where in the hell is Pat?  He's late.  You gave him the directions didn't you, Phil?  The directions that did not take him by the liquor store?

Fulmer:  Yeah, but you know Pat, he was probably out running errands for Lowder and lost track of time.

DuBose:  I say we get started without him.  I'd like to get in a possum hunt before this buzz wears off.

Sherrill:  You could just keep drinking to maintain that buzz.

Brewer:  Nah, nah, Jackie.  Once you reach that optimum level of good feelin', you got to go hunt then.  Makes it just right.

DuBose:  Exactly.

Sherrill:  Alright then, we'll get started.  Phil, you want to go first.

Fulmer:  Sure.  As I'm sure you're all aware, we called this meeting because of something Urban Meyer said the other day.  Now, I know Urban a little bit, think he's a pretty sharp guy, but never thought he'd be one to try to drag our name down with a bunch of amateurs.

Brewer:  What exactly did he say?

Sherrill:  He hinted that the coaching profession in college football today is filled with outlaws.

Brewer:  The hell with him.  Outlaws?  Outrageous.  Nothing but a bunch of nickel and dimers out there now.

Sherrill:  Couldn't agree more.  He's stained our work by throwing them in with us.  Has Gene Chizik ever funded 18 separate churches at the same time, recruited an entire defensive line from the maintenance crew of a roller skating rink or single-handedly kept five hotels in Starkville in business?

DuBose:  I don't think he even knows how to work high school coaches.

Fulmer:  It's insulting is what it is.  Why, there was a time when I could...

A loud crash is heard outside, followed by a car door slamming shut.  Footsteps thump across the porch and the front door swings open.  Pat Dye enters the house, carrying a half-empty bottle of George Dickel and wearing no pants.

Dye:  Fellas.

Sherrill:  Pat.

Fulmer:  Pat.

Brewer:  Pat, where in the hell are your pants?

Dye:  Left them by the pond when I fell out of the canoe.

DuBose:  What pond?

Dye:  The pond.

Fulmer:  Near here?

Dye:  The one near the trees and stuff.

Fulmer:  Pat, we may need to talk.

Sherrill:  Phil, you can have that talk later.  We've got some business at hand.  Have you heard, Pat?

Dye:  Just got done talking with Finebaum about it.

Fulmer:  What did that bald bastard say?

Dye:  Not sure.

Fulmer:  Not sure?

Dye:  Phil, I don't hear a damn word that man says.  Haven't since 1999.  He talks, then I talk.  Got it all written down on a napkin.  Then I talk about the hearing aids.  Speaking of, did you know that 65% of all Americans will lose or partially lose their hearing by the time...

Sherrill:  Pat, let's stay on point here.  And Mike, can you get Pat blanket, his bare manparts are really creeping me out now.

DuBose hands Dye a burlap sack.

Fulmer:  As Jackie was saying, we've got to let Urban know we don't appreciate his comments.  In fact, we need to make sure he recants and acknowledges those who have far surpassed what's going on today.

Brewer:  Well, hell, Phil, maybe the boy knows what he's talking about.  He did have 30 players get arrested in five years.

Fulmer:  You know how many players I had get arrested under my watch?  379.  You know how many the media found out about?  A whole lot less than that.  Don't tell me he knows what he's saying.

Brewer:  My mistake.  Hell, we just had the cops drop 'em off at their dorm rooms.  All we had to do was promise to take them to the strip clubs when we took the recruits.

Sherrill:  Genius.  Never even thought of that.  I'll have to call Melvin and let him know to try that one next year.  I'm sure Dan will give it the green light.

DuBose:  Boys, we need to make a decision.  Those possums aren't going to shoot themselves.  Though if they got ornery enough, they might.

Dye:  Still possum hunting, Mike?

DuBose:  No greater thrill.  Well, there was that thing in my office with that secretary.

Fulmer:  Whoa, whoa, whoa.  No more of that.  I have my dreams tonight to be concerned about.

Brewer:  I say we send Urban a new Pontiac with $2500 stuffed in the glove compartment.

Dye:  Are Pontiacs still in style?

DuBose:  Ford makes a hell of a sedan.

Sherrill:  We're not sending him a car.  Too easy to trace.  Plus, it's kind of a pain to get the thing registered in an uncle's name, and with all the insurance regulations, I'm not sure it's worth it.

Fulmer:  What about a garbage bag full of cash?

Sherrill:  How about we buy his preacher a new house, car and library for the church?  Don't need a real name for the donation, just a check that clears.

Dye:  No, no, no.  We'll need a secret bank account he can use anytime he needs cash.  I know just the bank we can use.

DuBose:  I think it's a mistake not to involve a Ford.

Brewer:  What about a Chevy?

Fulmer:  American cars are out, okay?  He's from one of those Yankee places, not from around here.

DuBose:  Now, see here Phil....

Arguing commences and takes place for the next six hours.  Finally, just after 2 AM, a compromise is reached.

Sherrill:  Alright, that settles it.  We're sending him a nasty and indignant letter, signed by all of us, demanding he recognize our unprecedented and unmatched work in the shadowy world of college football recruiting, plus a Golden Corral gift certificate-

Dubose:  That was a nice touch, Phil.

Sherrill:  -and a lease of his choice at any Wade Raulerson dealership in the greater Gainesville area.  Agreed?

All:  Agreed.

Sherrill:  Very good then.  Phil, if you'll draft the letter, I'll talk to my dealership guy and we'll nail down the details.  Pat, we need you....where did your burlap sack go?

Dye:  Lost it down by the pond.

Sherrill:  What pond?

Dye:  The one with the trees and stuff.

Sherrill:  I don't even remember you going outside.

Brewer:  He slipped out when you and Phil were arguing about Melvin and Trooper.  But I don't know where he found that conductor's hat.

Sherrill:  How far I have fallen.

DuBose:  Alright, boys, let's sign this sucker so I can get out of here.

Dye:  Can I go with you?

DuBose:  Only if you give me that conductor's hat and hold the flashlight.

Dye:  Done.

Dye hands him the hat and gets a flashlight from the cabinet.  DuBose puts on the hat and picks up his shotgun by the door.

DuBose:  Let's go, Pat.  See you boys on the other side.

A period of silence follows.

Brewer:  Is he going to shoot Pat?

Fulmer:  I don't think so.  He really hates holding that flashlight while trying to shoot.

Sherrill:  I hope they stay away from that pond.

More silence as all three men ponder the possibilities of DuBose and/or Dye returning to the cabin naked.

Fulmer:  Y'all wanna call Slive, pretend like we're Roy Kramer and see what we can get him to do?

Sherrill:  I'm already dialing.

THE END

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