By REED NELSON
The Coach’s Diary series takes us past the interviews, the fake smiles and the rehearsed responses, and delves deep into the things Pac-12 coaches don’t say to the media.
Following Oregon’s demolition of the artist formerly known as the Cal Bears, Chip Kelly made his way to his luxury sail boat, Chip and Sail, Rescue Ranger — custom fit with visor-shape holders and replacement pullovers — roused his exclusively non-American crew (all work visa’s have been approved, mind you) and set sail for the Oregon Coast. While on this leisurely voyage, he penned another entry in his trust diary.
We at QuackTownUSA, through rigorous investigative work, consistent neglect of trespassing laws and little regard for the validity of our sources, have obtained this diary entry.
Sunday, November 11th: Travel Day
I’m glad I’m on my ship. No media, no trainers, no nothing. Just the way I like my Sunday mornings.
Alabama lost, which puts us in good shape for the National Championship. Boy would I love to win one of those. Who’d a thunk it. Just a raspy-voiced guy from New Hampshire hoisting a crystal ball.
But last night’s game was anything but affirming, Diary.
I know I can’t talk about injuries, but I need to share it with someone. It’s killing me. We have Three. More. Games.
That’s why my heart skipped 24 beats when Kenjon went down in the first half. First thought when he went to the locker room: Would slicing off my own hand and giving it to him help?? My second thought: Where is the nearest ice bucket?
But before I could even consider this notion further, Marcus went down! His injury turned out to be just a stinger, but at this point the visor started tightening around my skull. And that was before…
Avery Patterson. My newest newfound love. Avery-wavery Touchdown Patterson. All that kid did was demoralize opposing quarterbacks. Was that really so wrong? It wasn’t even a contact injury!!!!
I’m too sad to continue, but we’re almost in Florence and I just cracked me a Bud Light Lime. Delicious. Almost amnesia-inducing. I forgot what I was upset about. That reminds me: Marcus Mariota. I love that kid. He just… just… he’s the best. I forgot what I was talking about. Again. I’m exhausted.
As Tigger (not Tiger. Perv.) would say, T.T.F.N. Diary.
Monday, November 12th: Back in the Eug
I remembered what I was upset about.
Avery Patterson, my new rock, is done. Out for the season. No longer able to contribute to the greatest thing in the history of mankind ever as judged by me. And I really think we needed him.
It was one thing throwing Erick Dargan out there against those the 2’s. But now he’s got to be the deep help for Ifo against actual good receivers. In the words of my former rival Jim Harbaugh, that’s some Gobble Gobble Turkey Talk.
I don’t know if used that right. I’ll try again later. Sorry for the confusion Diary.
And besides Patterson, Dion Jordan remains questionable, Kiko has probably come down with a tape worm and I wouldn’t be surprised if Terrance Mitchell develops a severe case of the Chicken Pox in the next three days.
GameDay? I couldn’t care less about some nonsense like ESPNs GameDay. I’ll tell you what’s really Gobble Gobble Turkey Talk, College GameDay. What I care about is… Screw it. I totally care about GameDay. Why lie to you, Diary? You can’t talk. Between you and I, I hope they’ll put me in another commercial. I’d like that.
Til next time.
Tuesday, November 13th: Two different teams, two different schemes
Stanford is coming. It’s not as ominous sounding as “the British,” but with all these injuries I can’t discuss, I’m starting to get a little nervous.
They’re good against the run, they’re good against the pass, I’ve said it before and I’ll reiterate the point to you, Diary. But I’m good against defense.
Kenjon is still worrying me. Those Stanford guys just might figure out that he ran the ball exclusively to the left side after injuring his hand. Sorry. After retreating to the locker room for some refreshments. Andy wants me to say that. Even here. Sorry for my coyness, Diary. Just looking out for El Jeffe Numero Uno.
(I’m thinking about changing my name to El Jeffe Numero Uno. I think it has a nice ring.)