The biggest coaching clinic in Southern California is going on as I write and I am at home. It's only the third clinic I have missed since I have been a football coach and I am going through some serious withdrawals.
It's the economy that kept me from going.
Seems our high school district can't justify paying for some coaches to spend money on hotels and clinic fees when they are struggling to supply books to its' students. Can't say that I blame them, but damn, I am missing out on some serious fun.
Oh, I mean I am missing out on some great opportunities to learn some more football.
At last year's clinic, I picked up a new offense that we implemented this past season and hired a great coach that knows more football than I may ever know. In fact, he knows so much about football that he quit my staff shortly before the start of the 2008 season.
He must have knew we were about to go through a 1-9 season and left before any one could blame him for our lack of success. Like I said, he knows football.
Sitting here thinking about what I am missing out on made me think of some of my favorite moments at past clinics.
Like the time when a coach you might know who writes a blog spent a whole day on his hotel room's balcony calling a friend who was standing outside three floors below. As soon as his friend would head inside his room to answer the phone, the coach that you might know would hang up and then laugh hysterically watching his buddy flip him the bird when he returned outside.
However, eight hours later his coaching friend would get revenge. The coach that you might know got stuck 12 miles away from the hotel when he hitched a ride with some friends from college to a bar. When his friends refused to let him drive even though he was the only one sober, he refused to ride back and called the coach he had hung up on earlier the day.
Needless to say, the coach you might know had a long walk back after hearing his friend on the other end of the phone say, "Yea, right... your on the balcony right now. Go to bed asshole."
Or the time when the coach you might know was called on stage by the current head football coach at UCLA in front 1,500 of his peers. After dropping pass after pass while trying to demonstrate a drill with the UCLA coach, the coach you might know was sent back to his seat and replaced by someone who actually had the athletic ability needed to finish the drill.
More good times.
Or the time when the coach you might know walked into a bar with 20 of his friends and tried to act like a high roller by ordering a tray of Watermelon Shooters. When the tray of 20 shots arrived to him, all of his peers had left and were pursuing the attention of women.
I lost count of how many shots the coach that you might know actually finished, but I do remember his night ended with him handing a woman $20 to be used at a dry cleaner of her choice after he threw up the shooters on the back of her dress.
That one still gives the coach that you might know trouble when he spends time with his coaching friends. For some reason, they get quite a laugh out of remembering the coach you might know handing over his last $20 to a complete stranger.
I could go on for hours telling stories about the clinic and the coach that you might know, but I am pretty sure he'd like the rest to be untold. He'd rather sit back awhile and think about next year's clinic.
Remembering Philip Roth
3 days ago