Saban walks through the door with a blank look on face, carrying a small glossy cherry-stained wooden box... He sets it on the table... "Go on, son, open it". As the recruit opens the box, the light begins refracting off his face from 6 rings encrusted with thousands of diamonds. The recruit's eyes widen to let the splendor wash through his mind, almost mesmerized.
Saban steps forward, slowly closing the box... "Now son, I'm not gonna take up much of your time here. I'm averaging one of these things every two years, just give me a call if Alabama can take care of you"...
Doorbell rings, and Saban walks out, giving Weinke a light but aggressive bump from his shoulder.
"Do you mind holding the door ma'am?" Wienke politely asks the mother of the recruit. In steps a slightly out of breath Weinke... his eyebrows fencing back 5 minutes of Summer forehead sweat from his trek up the stairs. He stands in front of the recruit in a lift-with-your-legs, not-with-your-back wide-legged stance, holding a 19-year-old 45lb hunk of bronze sculpted into the famed Heisman Trophy, 2000 edition. As Weinke approaches the same coffee table, his right hand slips from the outstretched leg of the glossy sculpture... it hinges down, ripping itself from his left hand and comes crashing down with a thud of cracked wood with a light metal resonation hanging in the air.
Weinke's face reddens with panic as he looks back to the recruit's mother's soured face, eyebrow lowered and twitching with anger.
"Oh, I'm so sorry ma'am... I assure you we'll replace that! But yea kid, other than me owing your mother a new coffee table... What ya think of that?!?!?"