Disciplinarians are typically hired after player’s coaches have been fired, and vice versa. Some coaches try to cross over between disciplinarian and player’s coach. If the players are threatening to mutiny, he may take a softer approach. If the players become unruly and start lighting random fires around the locker room, he’ll try to crack the whip. This approach never works. Players respect consistency. If your coach is an asshole, he should always be an asshole. If he’s a bleeding-heart pussy, he should always be a bleeding-heart pussy. Never the twain shall meet. If your coach tries to play Bad Cop / Different Kind of Bad Cop, feel free to take the rest of the season off. That guy’s a lame duck and he knows it. Fuck him.
If you’re looking to impress your head coach in order to get more playing time, I strongly suggest never asking him about his family. Your coach has been married for thirty years to a wife he mentally abandoned twenty-nine years ago. He also probably has three or more children, all of whom are complete train wrecks. A much smarter approach is to pepper him with questions about strategy and what you need to do to improve. Most coaches are, at heart, teachers. Which means they like being real fucking know-it-alls.
Your coach woke up at 3:00 a.m. after falling asleep at 2:00 a.m. on a cot in his office with his hand on the DVD player remote. Why? So he could try to absorb more information about your sport than any other person on Earth. He does this even though research has shown the brain can only take in so much information in a single day, and without proper rest, intensive work can be counterproductive. So, if you want to kiss his ass, make him feel that all of that needless effort was worth it.
He’ll appreciate it when your owner fires his ass three weeks into the season.
* * *
DID YOU KNOW?
The average tenure of a professional head coach or manager is 10.2 months. Hate your coach? The good news is that he’ll be out the door shortly. The bad news is that Larry Brown will be replacing him. And man, is that guy a ballbuster!
* * *
HEAR IT FROM A FOOTBALL COACH!
I will control you with my mind
by Bill Belichick
Hey, (your last name). Over here. Yeah, you. Come here.
I want you to drink this.
What is it? It’s uh . . . a supplement. It contains vital electrolytes. You need it. It’s good for your circulation. Look, just fuckin’ drink it or I’ll cut your ass.
(You drink it.)
Okay, good. Feel okay? You don’t feel faint, do you? I’m gonna try something, okay? I want you to relax. I’m going to concentrate really hard, and I want you to let me know if you feel anything.
(He scrunches up his face real tight like he’s having a bowel movement. You involuntarily move into a three-point stance.)
Ahhhhhh! Good. Good, it worked on you.
I’ve been studying principles of nanotechnology for about seventeen years now. Right when I began coaching the Patriots, I had a breakthrough. Together with a team of Danish engineers, I was able to create robot microbes that control bodily movements based upon my brain waves. We even designed them to reproduce on their own. What you just swallowed was a mixed solution containing 4 moles, or 6.02 x 1023, of these microbes. Don’t worry. They’re relatively harmless. What they’ll do is embed themselves in your muscles and cause them to flex at my command. For example, JUMP!
(You jump.)
See? Pretty fuckin’ cool, right? Now stand on your toes like a really jacked ballerina.
(You stand on your toes like a really jacked ballerina.)
Nice. Try not to fight my commands. This is a beta version of our latest upgrade. If you try to fight them, they may turn against your muscles, colonize them, and begin devouring them. And then you’re no good to me.
Now, I’m not gonna use this technology for anything weird. I’m not gonna have you shoot the queen or anything like that. But I needed to develop a technology that eliminated freelancing and ensured that you did everything I told you. After all, I am not the world’s most charismatic fellow. When I was in Cleveland, no one listened to me. I had no presence. I spoke in a horrible monotone that acted as a sort of audible Sominex. And I smelled a bit off. I needed something that would cut out any mental mistakes players would make and completely satisfy my freakish thirst for control. And these little bastards have done the job quite well.
You might be wondering how I can control the movements of all eleven players on the field at once. Well, the answer again lies in nanotechnology. I’ve had trillions of these nanobots implanted into my cerebellum. This hood hanging in the back of my sweatshirt helps hide the deformed growth caused by the implant. See?
(He shows you the growth. It is the size and shape of a large mango, and has hair, teeth, and a single eyeball.)