Last night, THE SECOND GUNMAN dreamt he was Coach K. Here is how his day went.
9:15 a.m.: I wake up and go through my morning routine: brush my teeth, gel my hair, practice spelling my name, gel my hair and put on my game face.
10:30 a.m.: I arrive at my office on the top floor of the Schwartz-Butters Building, only to realize that this is a really stupid name for a building. I put it on par with the recently anointed Ren Provey Commemorative Memorial Walkway (ReProCoMemWa for short). Who the hell is Ren Provey? If he is so great, why do they not just name the dorm Provey? At least then we will not have a dorm named after a water-bearing hole in the ground. On second thought, maybe the WEL is a good name for that water-bearing hole in the campus social scene.
10:35 a.m.: I telephone Nan via my direct hotline. She is still in bed, watching Cheers! reruns and eating Fruity Pebbles. I ask her if there is any way to change the name of my office building to Coach K Tower. I hear her swallow, then breathe heavily for a few seconds. Then she says, "Whatever you want, Professor Dumbledore."
10:40 a.m.: I have to pee, so I head for the roof of Schwartz-Butters. I try to get it all out before the first drop hits the ground. While I am up there, I rearrange the sign so it says Butttz-Waschers.
11:00 a.m.: I placed a call to Andy Borman. This year's little task was to steal the Krzyzewskiville sign. While Andy was doing the dirty work, I rode up and down the thumbprint elevator humming "bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you?" I'll sell it on eBay tomorrow. That's what I call a five-point play. Or as Casey Sanders taught me: one for the money, two for the bitches, three to get ready and four to hit the switches. I guess to Casey that's a five point play.
11:30 a.m.: I send Borman over to whack Arthur Brodie, the Breyer's guy, for spilling my beans. I thought to myself, "We got knocked out of the NCAA tournament so early last year that I hadn't gotten my full coaching fix. I began using my dictatorial powers to make substitutions all around campus. First, I substituted Sysco ice cream for the Breyer's, pocketing the extra cash. Then, I substituted campus diversity for fun."
Andy said, "Uncle God, I just don't feel comfortable pushing him off the ReProCoMemWa." So I laid it out for him, "Andy, are you a team player or not?" I guess he likes keeping the last cushy chair warm.
12:15 p.m.: I headed over to Subway for a quick bite to eat. On my way over I noticed that the Krzyzewskiville sign had been replaced with an inferior substitute sign from the Chapel reading, "Wedding Parking ONLY." I figured hell, Jeremy Morgan, had to bribe his way into being head line monitor, he probably can't even read. We thought Skidmore was dumb, always trying to beat the thumbprint elevator. Little did he know, nobody is bigger than the thumbprint elevator. Subway was broken, or something, so I ducked into the Loop.
12:27 p.m.: I realized after three calls of increasing intensity, that won-swifty-sheven is really my order of a Loop n' Blue with fries.
12:45 p.m.: Unfortunately, the fries were a little greasy. The thumbprint scanner didn't recognize me.
12:50 p.m.: I gave Nan another call. She's breathing heavily, so I ask her why. She tells me of the pickle lodged in her throat. Apparently she was craving Mount Olive so badly that she forgot to chew. She went looking for the infirmary, but couldn't find it. After wandering through an empty hospital, she decided to just deal with it. She followed some lost freshman out an open window and went home. We then tossed a couple of jokes back and forth about the pickle picketers and then she told me I should hang around late again. She and Larry scheduled another little WEL watering.
1 p.m.: Time to play tennis with Wojo, although he's not very good. He had me down 6-0, 5-0, but the little tyke blew about 40 match points. I win in three sets, and he still has a job.
3 p.m.: Security Check! I have to make sure the thumbprint scanner in the elevator still works, so I hop on my razor scooter and scoot over to it. It still works, so I take a victory lap around my office and return to "work."
3:14 p.m.: As I watch video of this year's opponents, I laugh to myself and think how Dunleavy will tear them apart. I notice that Gary Williams looks a little damp.
3:18 p.m.: Phone call to Gary Williams.
Me: Hey Gary, is your refrigerator running?
Gary: Mike, that wasn't even funny last time.
Me: Then how come you're all sweaty? HAHAHA! Click.
10 p.m.: I drive over to West Campus to check out the flood. I park my Benz in the fire lane, because I can. The students admire the "chrome dubs" that Shane gave me. I like to hang out on campus, because I always get free beer.
On cue, a portly redheaded fellow tiptoes up to me, towing a cooler on wheels. He tosses me a beer and says, "Hey coach, want to make a joke out of DSG?" I turn to him and say, "You already did, C.J." We share a hearty laugh, shotgun our beers and wait for the rains to come.
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