TheVolunteer002
I was just foolin' about
- Joined
- Dec 6, 2020
- Messages
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- 1,903
We sit here twiddling our thumbs awaiting the glorious return to prominence we know is eventually coming. We know if we can just get the right guy in here to do it his way with his guys, it'll be a walk in the gridiron park. We know all we have to do is pull the trigger and hire Jon-Lane Cooter Freeze, Esq.
We hear reports he loves Tennessee. He has ties to the state. We hear a rumor that it was actually him who broke into the Neyland press box one foggy summer night to hack the computer terminals and download the "John Ward's Greatest Hits" album that he knew the university was keeping from the public for undisclosed reasons. He just wanted to make a montage and put it on YouTube so Vol fans across the land could finally enjoy it. Hell, he even snagged the iconic and sorely missed Bobby Denton's "PLEASE PAY NO MORE" line and put it in the montage as an added bonus.
Weeks pass and we hear nothing. We hear other schools are contacting him about their head coaching vacancies. Meanwhile, Tennessee doesn't even have a head coaching vacancy yet. Puzzled and fearing the worst, we decide positivity is the best route to go. We dive head first into the rumor mill. We don't even take things with a grain of salt. We instead flail the entire salt bag out the window and refresh the VN page at work every five minutes to read the posts of "well connected members" who know some folks that have assured them he's the guy UT will tap for the job.
We wake up one morning, log into VN to see that the night shift staff has leaked the reports of J.L. Cooter Freeze Esq. being hired by a division rival. Infuriated, perplexed, astonished, disappointed, and disturbed, the fan base does the only thing there is left to do. They go to social media and unleash a torrent of profanity-laced exposition dumps of flaming hot excrement. They tag and hashtag the administration officials involved, they get ahold of personal emails and cell phone numbers to personally do their part and tell the administration that a platoon of trained Erotylids could produce better results that the drones inside the UTAD echo chamber.
Realizing how wild-eyed and crazy the fans truly are, the administration fires the head coach they hired to replace the head coach they hired to replace the head coach they hired to replace the head coach that left in the middle of the night that they hired to replace the head coach that won a national championship once upon a time.
A coaching search ensues. A search firm is employed to assist. The university promises to exhaust all efforts to find the best fit for Tennessee. After a while, they begin to wring their hands. Every coach they've offered has turned them down. Even the ones they didn't want have turned them down. The national media has gotten ahold of the situation, and produces reports of in-fighting and power struggles within the administration. The beat writers laugh, knowing these are the easiest click-bait articles they've ever written.
Finally, the administration emerges from the fallout bunker they've been unable to leave for weeks and projectile vomits a name into a microphone that's attached to a podium. A name we don't recognize. A name that we google, only to find out that they don't even have a Wikipedia page yet. We check our surroundings to make sure it isn't a dream. We draw a deep breath and exhale. We convince ourselves that the university has "given up on the program." That we'll "Find better, more productive things to do on Saturdays in the fall." That we will "come around again" when the university "starts taking the program seriously again." We aren't even angry anymore. Just defeated and too old and give out to carry on. We've fired our last shots, found our last Huckleberry, and momma has put our guns in the ground because we quite obviously can't shoot the damn things anymore. We'll tune into the games periodically the following season to see how things are progressing, and remember the days when the mighty orange was a hard SOB to handle in the best division in college football.
Eventus stultorum magister.
We hear reports he loves Tennessee. He has ties to the state. We hear a rumor that it was actually him who broke into the Neyland press box one foggy summer night to hack the computer terminals and download the "John Ward's Greatest Hits" album that he knew the university was keeping from the public for undisclosed reasons. He just wanted to make a montage and put it on YouTube so Vol fans across the land could finally enjoy it. Hell, he even snagged the iconic and sorely missed Bobby Denton's "PLEASE PAY NO MORE" line and put it in the montage as an added bonus.
Weeks pass and we hear nothing. We hear other schools are contacting him about their head coaching vacancies. Meanwhile, Tennessee doesn't even have a head coaching vacancy yet. Puzzled and fearing the worst, we decide positivity is the best route to go. We dive head first into the rumor mill. We don't even take things with a grain of salt. We instead flail the entire salt bag out the window and refresh the VN page at work every five minutes to read the posts of "well connected members" who know some folks that have assured them he's the guy UT will tap for the job.
We wake up one morning, log into VN to see that the night shift staff has leaked the reports of J.L. Cooter Freeze Esq. being hired by a division rival. Infuriated, perplexed, astonished, disappointed, and disturbed, the fan base does the only thing there is left to do. They go to social media and unleash a torrent of profanity-laced exposition dumps of flaming hot excrement. They tag and hashtag the administration officials involved, they get ahold of personal emails and cell phone numbers to personally do their part and tell the administration that a platoon of trained Erotylids could produce better results that the drones inside the UTAD echo chamber.
Realizing how wild-eyed and crazy the fans truly are, the administration fires the head coach they hired to replace the head coach they hired to replace the head coach they hired to replace the head coach that left in the middle of the night that they hired to replace the head coach that won a national championship once upon a time.
A coaching search ensues. A search firm is employed to assist. The university promises to exhaust all efforts to find the best fit for Tennessee. After a while, they begin to wring their hands. Every coach they've offered has turned them down. Even the ones they didn't want have turned them down. The national media has gotten ahold of the situation, and produces reports of in-fighting and power struggles within the administration. The beat writers laugh, knowing these are the easiest click-bait articles they've ever written.
Finally, the administration emerges from the fallout bunker they've been unable to leave for weeks and projectile vomits a name into a microphone that's attached to a podium. A name we don't recognize. A name that we google, only to find out that they don't even have a Wikipedia page yet. We check our surroundings to make sure it isn't a dream. We draw a deep breath and exhale. We convince ourselves that the university has "given up on the program." That we'll "Find better, more productive things to do on Saturdays in the fall." That we will "come around again" when the university "starts taking the program seriously again." We aren't even angry anymore. Just defeated and too old and give out to carry on. We've fired our last shots, found our last Huckleberry, and momma has put our guns in the ground because we quite obviously can't shoot the damn things anymore. We'll tune into the games periodically the following season to see how things are progressing, and remember the days when the mighty orange was a hard SOB to handle in the best division in college football.
Eventus stultorum magister.
