From Phillymag..... Thought this was pretty funny.
Written by Sandy Hingston:
So the Eagles are in search of a head coach, and I, along with several million other Delaware Valley-ites, am here to say: Iím your man! But unlike that obnoxious drunk at Chickieís and Peteís last night or the idiots still twirling their AM dials, trying to figure out what happened to Angelo Cataldi, I have actual qualifications for the job.
For one, I have experience, having coached my kidsí soccer and basketball teams. Granted, it was at the preK level, but discipline and motivation donít vary that much across the decades, as Iím sure you know. And you wonít have to worry about drug or alcohol problems with me at the helm, considering I ruthlessly enforced a ďNo binkies on the playing fieldĒ rule back in the day. Believe me, anyone who can convince four-year-olds to relinquish their pacifiers in order to run out onto a wind-whipped, frigid field and be screamed at by their parents isnít going to have players insouciantly skipping bed-check.
Though Iím an avid student of the game of football, some of its intricacies still elude me. Thatís certainly no disqualification for the Eagles job, though. Iím a quick learner, and Iíll have a huge posse of offensive and defensive coaches and coordinators to walk me through it and, you know, call the plays. That Howie guy handles the draft, right? (And he never played football, either.) So Iím all covered there. The league makes up the schedule; those big signs at the stadiums tell you what down it is and how much time is left. The players even have their names on the backs of their shirts, which is more than I can say for peewee soccer. Piece of cake!
The real meat of my job, though, is to convince really big guys to do what I tell them. Iíll have you know my teenage son is six-foot-four and 300 pounds, and I make sure he gets out of bed almost every day. My modus operandi isnít sissy ďrespect,Ē eitheróitís unadulterated fear. If you think I canít handle a locker room full of unbridled egos, witness this: I served as Girl Scout leader for my daughterís troop when she was in middle schoolóand took them on camping trips. Michael Vickís psyche is a smooth, unrippling field of Astroturf compared to that of your average 13-year-old girl.
But hereís where I really shine when it comes to qualifications for the job of Eagles coach: talking to the press. Andy Reid never knew how to talk to the press. I do, because I am the freaking press! I know exactly what the voracious maw of the Fourth Estate demands, and Iím ready to provide it. Iíll give the best, most colorful quotes any football coach has ever come out with! Iíll be more inspirational than Bear Bryant, more eloquent than Vince Lombardi, less smarmy than Jimmy Johnson! No more Reid-esque grunts and monosyllables; once you get me started at the podium, I wonít shut up! And beyond the post-game press conferences, Iíll Twitter you to death! Iíll Facebook you to eternity! Iíll be so 24/7 accessible that the entire city will glow in the reflected light of Eagles fansí love! (See? Pretty inspirational, huh?)
Two final but all-important points: I can wear Andyís official team wardrobe. True, heís got a few inches of height and a couple of pounds on me, but I know how to sew, and I can take up the pants and nip in the sweater vests and shirts. Have any of your other coaching candidates made an offer like that? And finally, our style editor, Emily Goulet, just came into my office to ask me how to pronounce Nnamdi Asomughaís name. She could have asked any one of the dozens of men who work here, but she didnít. She came to me. So you can be sure Nnamdi will know who Iím talking to when I fire his overpaid ***!
You have my email, Jeff. Ballís in your court. I mean, your red zone.
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