Post by Deleted on Mar 22, 2013 14:01:15 GMT -6
“Damn, I wonder what Coach has got to say……..“
“This can’t be GooD……“
“Anybody else notice that it’s just us walk-ons that he wants to meet with??“
The twenty walk-ons stood anxiously in the practice field’s end zone awaiting Butch Jones: the new Head Coach of The Tennessee Volunteers. What could he possibly want with them? Were they all about to be treated like a bunch of children who are too short to ride the roller coaster?? Surely the phrase “maybe next year” was about to be uttered to at least a few of these men: men who were paying for school out of pocket because no one was willing to give them a shot.
For Blitz Price, the anticipation was about to drive him insane. He’d already had a rough outing the previous week: getting his ass reamed by his coach for gambling on a blitz without signaling his intentions to his teammates. The loss to Scarlet over the weekend didn’t help matters either. For him, it seemed the whole world was about to come crashing down on top of him.
He couldn’t have been more right………………..
“Everyone, gather in close and take a knee.” The coach said after he finally finished making his rounds with the position coaches.
“Gentleman, there is a reason that I’ve called this quick meeting: today as you have probably guessed is the first Cut Day. You’ve all worked hard for me in the short time we’ve been together and I wish I could keep all of you, but as you know that’s just not the case. By the end of today‘s practice, half of you will be dismissed.“
Coach Jones paused for what seemed like an eternity as some of the players began to tremble with fear: fear that their last chance to play college football was about to come to an end. Some of these guys had been playing since Little League. Price was one of them.
“If I call your number, fall out and report immediately to your position coach to begin drills: 4, 26, 55,69, 87. The rest of you hold tight for just a moment.”
Blitz’s heart turned into nothing more than a lump in his throat when he didn’t hear his number called. It was just two years ago when he was the top Middle Linebacker prospect in the country and had scholarship offers from all over the country. He had even signed a Commitment Letter with Texas A&M; only to have them and every other school in the country renege after the malicious assault at the hands of Ryan Pugh and Johnny Stylez.
“So, this is what it’s all came down to……” he thought to himself. “One minute I’m the hottest free agent since LeBron James and the next I can’t even walk on to a school with the stability of a case of dynamite.”
Just as he was about to resign himself to his fate, the Head Coach addressed the men once more.
“If you’ll notice, I said only HALF of you would be gone by day’s end. To me, that means there are fifteen of you vying for the last five roster spots. I want all of you to hit that practice field wide open today and hold nothing back: this is your last chance to impress me, so you’d all better bust your asses and let it all hang out today! The position you play is irrelevant: the five of you who I keep through the rest of the Spring will be the five who impress me the most today. Now, you fifteen men who are on the proverbial bubble will be falling in with the Special Teams unit today and work with the Kickoff and Kickoff Return teams. If there is ONE player here who can contribute to turning this team around, we‘re going to find out today!!!”
As the fifteen condemned players trotted across the practice facility to join up with Coach Davis’ Special Teams unit, Blitz couldn’t help but think about how his misfortunes on the field have paralleled those in the ring.
“Last week I was facing Scarlet, a Hall of Famer, for a spot in The Terrordome and this week I’m practically jerking the curtain against some no name hack named Tek. It looks like NEW has demoted me to Special Teams too.Tek??? Who in the Hell has even HEARD of that guy?!?!?!?!”
“Okay, 6, 19, 37, and 56.……get over here and huddle up with the Kick Team. The rest of you will be the Scout Return Team!!! LINE UP!!!!”
As the coach blew his whistle and the return team lined up in their formation, Blitz couldn’t help but think of what had gotten him not only in this mess, but in the mess he is in with his upstart wrestling career: for just one moment, he took his eye off the ball and his opposition capitalized.
This was a critical mistake he vowed never to make again: not today on the practice field, not on a Fall Saturday in front of over 100,000 screaming Big Orange fans, and for DAMN SURE, not on a Sunday night against Tek the Wildcard.
Although these other men clad in orange and white practice jerseys were his teammates, for the rest of the day these men were holding him back: standing between him and a coveted roster spot at a BCS school.
“It’s funny how they mirror each other, wrestling and football……” he thought as the kicker broke the huddle and the team lined up for the kickoff. Just like these other walk-ons were standing in the way of his childhood dream, Tek is standing in his way of finally getting his hands on Jesse Styles and finding out where he was holding his father PsYcho; and even if he is still alive.
“6, before you kick off, I want you and all of the rest of you walk-ons to visualize your opponent. Right now, as Coach Jones already told you, you’re facing off against one another for one of five spots on the roster. So, 56, 37, 19, when that ball is kicked off, I want you to visualize a packed crowd at Neyland Stadium on the Third Saturday in October. Right now, I want you to pretend that Scout Team is The Alabama Crimson Tide! They’ve beaten us SIX STRAIGHT YEARS and they’ve just won the opening coin toss! It’s up to you three to get down field, lay a lick on somebody, and set the tone for the rest of the game!
Remember, VISUALIZE YOUR OPPONENT!!!!! Number 6, remember there is no play clock on a kickoff: you make sure that your team is set and whenever you’re ready, give the signal and kick the piss out of that ball!!!!”
Blitz tried his best to do just as Coach Davis had instructed: to visualize his opponent. The only drawback was that while everyone else saw ‘Bama, he saw Tek, The Styles Mafia, and in the end zone wearing numbers 24 and 42 waiting to receive, he saw Ryan Pugh and Jesse Styles…….
“Visualize……….my………..opponent……….”
Once Coach Davis’ whistle blew, the kicker raised his hand and sent the ball spiraling across the practice field and down to around the goal line. Now in a real game situation, the ball would probably be allowed to bounce over the goal line for a Touchback and the offense would take over at their own 20. However, “Jesse Styles”, “Ryan Pugh” and “Tek” were all on the bubble just like Blitz was and thus, he knew that someone would try to field it.
As he had anticipated, “Jesse” fielded the hopping kick as “Tek“, “Ryan Pugh“, and “Hazard” formed a wedge in front of him. Wanting, no, NEEDING to make an impressive play, Price sprinted across the field like Usian Bolt: passing up the two ‘headhunters’ on either end of the line when he first ran into “Tek” in the middle of the return line trying to throw a block for “Jesse.”
“STAY IN YOUR LANES, HEADHUNTERS, STAY IN YOUR LANES!!!!!!!”
“Tek” made eye contact with Michael “Blitz” Price charging toward him like a man possessed and then lowered his shoulder: ready to knock him flatter than a pair of Junior High titties. His effort however would be in vain as the two men hit with the force of a runaway eighteen wheeler: knocking the blocker on his ass and mentally into the next area code! To the astonishment of Coach Davis though, Price never even slowed down after the impact.
“GoD damn!!!! He just ran right through 65 out there!!!! Number 56 might just be a keeper!!!!”
With “Tek” out of the way and the wedge now broken, Blitz Price locked his beady little eyes on the ultimate prize :“Jesse Styles”, number 42, trying to juke and jive his way out of the speeding locomotive that was coming right toward him.
“DON’T OVERPURSUE!!!! DON’T OVERPURSUE!!!! LOCK UP AND TAKE HIM DOWN!!!!!!!!!!”
The return man tried his best to evade the oncoming Price, for his ass was on the bubble as well, but all of the sudden…………
THUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Blitz Price collided with the man whom he visualized as Jesse Styles with the force comparable to a Greyhound Bus hitting The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man!!! The ball came squirting out like a greased pig at around the 15 yard line and the poor kid’s helmet finally stopped rolling at around the 6.
“LIVE BALL! LIVE BALL!!!! LIVE BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
the entire coaching staff shouted!!! Out of the corner of his eye, Blitz saw “Ryan Pugh” scuttling to fall on it and instinctively grabbed his ankle: allowing number 37 of the kicking team to recover the fumble.
The next sound everyone heard was the coach’s whistle blowing: thus ruling the play over!!!!!!!
“KICK TEAM…………..OUTSTANDING!!!!!!!!! EVERYONE HUDDLE---------”
“Coach!!!! Coach!!!!!!! These two are out cold!!! And……….I think this one just shit his pants!”
“TRAINERS!!! MANAGERS!!!!!!!!! GET 42 TO THE TEAM DOCTOR AND LET’S GET HIM TREATED FOR HIS CONCUSSION!!!!! GET 65 TO THE LOCKER ROOM, CUT HIS PADS OFF, THROW HIM IN THE SHOWER, THEN TAKE HIM TO THE TEAM DOCTOR!!!!”
Blitz’s visual of Jesse Styles and Tek lying on the ground unconscious and covered in their own shit began to fade: thus, his moment of triumph turned into a moment of concern as he now saw two prospective team mates feeling the aftermath of his All-Madden type hit.
“EVERYONE………TAKE A KNEE!!! WATERBOYS, GET ‘EM SOME WATER!!!! 56!!!!! GET OVER HERE!!!”
Blitz began to sprint off the field and toward his coaches: wondering if he was about to run laps around the track for doing just what he was told.
“College coaches can be weird like that sometimes…….” he thought to himself as Coach Jones and Coach Davis both immediately grabbed him by the facemask.
“SON, THAT WAS THE MOST AMAZING HIT I’VE EVER SEEN ON KICK COVERAGE!!!!! CAN YOU DO THAT FOR ME EVERY SATURDAY?!?!??!”
“No problem, Coach.”
“DO YOU HAVE A NAME, 56?”
“It’s Price, Coach. Michael Price.”
“Well, I hope you’ll excuse me for not learning your name before, Price. I don’t usually bother learning a walk-on’s name until he’s made the team.”
“I’ve made the team?”
“YES!!! YOU DO THAT FOR ME IN GAINESVILLE AND YOU’LL BE ON SCHOLARSHIP!!!!
GET YOU SOME WATER…………AND GET BACK OUT THERE!!!”
“Yes, Coach!!!!”
After the training staff removed the injured players from the field, Blitz drifted away in thoughts about the upcoming Ignite as the Kick Team began to line up once more.
“That’s all I’ve got to do on Sunday…………..just run right through Tek, hit him so hard that he shits himself, blow by anyone else who stands in my way, and then knock Jesse Styles out cold!!!!”
WILL THE REAL TEK SHIT HIMSELF?
WILL BLITZ EVER GET HIS HANDS ON STYLES??
WILL HE EVER FIND HIS FATHER???
WILL HE MAKE VARSITY??
ALL THESE THINGS AND MORE AS WE ARE……….
TO BE CONTINUED……………….
Until that day, until all are one.
“This can’t be GooD……“
“Anybody else notice that it’s just us walk-ons that he wants to meet with??“
The twenty walk-ons stood anxiously in the practice field’s end zone awaiting Butch Jones: the new Head Coach of The Tennessee Volunteers. What could he possibly want with them? Were they all about to be treated like a bunch of children who are too short to ride the roller coaster?? Surely the phrase “maybe next year” was about to be uttered to at least a few of these men: men who were paying for school out of pocket because no one was willing to give them a shot.
For Blitz Price, the anticipation was about to drive him insane. He’d already had a rough outing the previous week: getting his ass reamed by his coach for gambling on a blitz without signaling his intentions to his teammates. The loss to Scarlet over the weekend didn’t help matters either. For him, it seemed the whole world was about to come crashing down on top of him.
He couldn’t have been more right………………..
“Everyone, gather in close and take a knee.” The coach said after he finally finished making his rounds with the position coaches.
“Gentleman, there is a reason that I’ve called this quick meeting: today as you have probably guessed is the first Cut Day. You’ve all worked hard for me in the short time we’ve been together and I wish I could keep all of you, but as you know that’s just not the case. By the end of today‘s practice, half of you will be dismissed.“
Coach Jones paused for what seemed like an eternity as some of the players began to tremble with fear: fear that their last chance to play college football was about to come to an end. Some of these guys had been playing since Little League. Price was one of them.
“If I call your number, fall out and report immediately to your position coach to begin drills: 4, 26, 55,69, 87. The rest of you hold tight for just a moment.”
Blitz’s heart turned into nothing more than a lump in his throat when he didn’t hear his number called. It was just two years ago when he was the top Middle Linebacker prospect in the country and had scholarship offers from all over the country. He had even signed a Commitment Letter with Texas A&M; only to have them and every other school in the country renege after the malicious assault at the hands of Ryan Pugh and Johnny Stylez.
“So, this is what it’s all came down to……” he thought to himself. “One minute I’m the hottest free agent since LeBron James and the next I can’t even walk on to a school with the stability of a case of dynamite.”
Just as he was about to resign himself to his fate, the Head Coach addressed the men once more.
“If you’ll notice, I said only HALF of you would be gone by day’s end. To me, that means there are fifteen of you vying for the last five roster spots. I want all of you to hit that practice field wide open today and hold nothing back: this is your last chance to impress me, so you’d all better bust your asses and let it all hang out today! The position you play is irrelevant: the five of you who I keep through the rest of the Spring will be the five who impress me the most today. Now, you fifteen men who are on the proverbial bubble will be falling in with the Special Teams unit today and work with the Kickoff and Kickoff Return teams. If there is ONE player here who can contribute to turning this team around, we‘re going to find out today!!!”
As the fifteen condemned players trotted across the practice facility to join up with Coach Davis’ Special Teams unit, Blitz couldn’t help but think about how his misfortunes on the field have paralleled those in the ring.
“Last week I was facing Scarlet, a Hall of Famer, for a spot in The Terrordome and this week I’m practically jerking the curtain against some no name hack named Tek. It looks like NEW has demoted me to Special Teams too.Tek??? Who in the Hell has even HEARD of that guy?!?!?!?!”
“Okay, 6, 19, 37, and 56.……get over here and huddle up with the Kick Team. The rest of you will be the Scout Return Team!!! LINE UP!!!!”
As the coach blew his whistle and the return team lined up in their formation, Blitz couldn’t help but think of what had gotten him not only in this mess, but in the mess he is in with his upstart wrestling career: for just one moment, he took his eye off the ball and his opposition capitalized.
This was a critical mistake he vowed never to make again: not today on the practice field, not on a Fall Saturday in front of over 100,000 screaming Big Orange fans, and for DAMN SURE, not on a Sunday night against Tek the Wildcard.
Although these other men clad in orange and white practice jerseys were his teammates, for the rest of the day these men were holding him back: standing between him and a coveted roster spot at a BCS school.
“It’s funny how they mirror each other, wrestling and football……” he thought as the kicker broke the huddle and the team lined up for the kickoff. Just like these other walk-ons were standing in the way of his childhood dream, Tek is standing in his way of finally getting his hands on Jesse Styles and finding out where he was holding his father PsYcho; and even if he is still alive.
“6, before you kick off, I want you and all of the rest of you walk-ons to visualize your opponent. Right now, as Coach Jones already told you, you’re facing off against one another for one of five spots on the roster. So, 56, 37, 19, when that ball is kicked off, I want you to visualize a packed crowd at Neyland Stadium on the Third Saturday in October. Right now, I want you to pretend that Scout Team is The Alabama Crimson Tide! They’ve beaten us SIX STRAIGHT YEARS and they’ve just won the opening coin toss! It’s up to you three to get down field, lay a lick on somebody, and set the tone for the rest of the game!
Remember, VISUALIZE YOUR OPPONENT!!!!! Number 6, remember there is no play clock on a kickoff: you make sure that your team is set and whenever you’re ready, give the signal and kick the piss out of that ball!!!!”
Blitz tried his best to do just as Coach Davis had instructed: to visualize his opponent. The only drawback was that while everyone else saw ‘Bama, he saw Tek, The Styles Mafia, and in the end zone wearing numbers 24 and 42 waiting to receive, he saw Ryan Pugh and Jesse Styles…….
“Visualize……….my………..opponent……….”
Once Coach Davis’ whistle blew, the kicker raised his hand and sent the ball spiraling across the practice field and down to around the goal line. Now in a real game situation, the ball would probably be allowed to bounce over the goal line for a Touchback and the offense would take over at their own 20. However, “Jesse Styles”, “Ryan Pugh” and “Tek” were all on the bubble just like Blitz was and thus, he knew that someone would try to field it.
As he had anticipated, “Jesse” fielded the hopping kick as “Tek“, “Ryan Pugh“, and “Hazard” formed a wedge in front of him. Wanting, no, NEEDING to make an impressive play, Price sprinted across the field like Usian Bolt: passing up the two ‘headhunters’ on either end of the line when he first ran into “Tek” in the middle of the return line trying to throw a block for “Jesse.”
“STAY IN YOUR LANES, HEADHUNTERS, STAY IN YOUR LANES!!!!!!!”
“Tek” made eye contact with Michael “Blitz” Price charging toward him like a man possessed and then lowered his shoulder: ready to knock him flatter than a pair of Junior High titties. His effort however would be in vain as the two men hit with the force of a runaway eighteen wheeler: knocking the blocker on his ass and mentally into the next area code! To the astonishment of Coach Davis though, Price never even slowed down after the impact.
“GoD damn!!!! He just ran right through 65 out there!!!! Number 56 might just be a keeper!!!!”
With “Tek” out of the way and the wedge now broken, Blitz Price locked his beady little eyes on the ultimate prize :“Jesse Styles”, number 42, trying to juke and jive his way out of the speeding locomotive that was coming right toward him.
“DON’T OVERPURSUE!!!! DON’T OVERPURSUE!!!! LOCK UP AND TAKE HIM DOWN!!!!!!!!!!”
The return man tried his best to evade the oncoming Price, for his ass was on the bubble as well, but all of the sudden…………
THUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Blitz Price collided with the man whom he visualized as Jesse Styles with the force comparable to a Greyhound Bus hitting The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man!!! The ball came squirting out like a greased pig at around the 15 yard line and the poor kid’s helmet finally stopped rolling at around the 6.
“LIVE BALL! LIVE BALL!!!! LIVE BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
the entire coaching staff shouted!!! Out of the corner of his eye, Blitz saw “Ryan Pugh” scuttling to fall on it and instinctively grabbed his ankle: allowing number 37 of the kicking team to recover the fumble.
The next sound everyone heard was the coach’s whistle blowing: thus ruling the play over!!!!!!!
“KICK TEAM…………..OUTSTANDING!!!!!!!!! EVERYONE HUDDLE---------”
“Coach!!!! Coach!!!!!!! These two are out cold!!! And……….I think this one just shit his pants!”
“TRAINERS!!! MANAGERS!!!!!!!!! GET 42 TO THE TEAM DOCTOR AND LET’S GET HIM TREATED FOR HIS CONCUSSION!!!!! GET 65 TO THE LOCKER ROOM, CUT HIS PADS OFF, THROW HIM IN THE SHOWER, THEN TAKE HIM TO THE TEAM DOCTOR!!!!”
Blitz’s visual of Jesse Styles and Tek lying on the ground unconscious and covered in their own shit began to fade: thus, his moment of triumph turned into a moment of concern as he now saw two prospective team mates feeling the aftermath of his All-Madden type hit.
“EVERYONE………TAKE A KNEE!!! WATERBOYS, GET ‘EM SOME WATER!!!! 56!!!!! GET OVER HERE!!!”
Blitz began to sprint off the field and toward his coaches: wondering if he was about to run laps around the track for doing just what he was told.
“College coaches can be weird like that sometimes…….” he thought to himself as Coach Jones and Coach Davis both immediately grabbed him by the facemask.
“SON, THAT WAS THE MOST AMAZING HIT I’VE EVER SEEN ON KICK COVERAGE!!!!! CAN YOU DO THAT FOR ME EVERY SATURDAY?!?!??!”
“No problem, Coach.”
“DO YOU HAVE A NAME, 56?”
“It’s Price, Coach. Michael Price.”
“Well, I hope you’ll excuse me for not learning your name before, Price. I don’t usually bother learning a walk-on’s name until he’s made the team.”
“I’ve made the team?”
“YES!!! YOU DO THAT FOR ME IN GAINESVILLE AND YOU’LL BE ON SCHOLARSHIP!!!!
GET YOU SOME WATER…………AND GET BACK OUT THERE!!!”
“Yes, Coach!!!!”
After the training staff removed the injured players from the field, Blitz drifted away in thoughts about the upcoming Ignite as the Kick Team began to line up once more.
“That’s all I’ve got to do on Sunday…………..just run right through Tek, hit him so hard that he shits himself, blow by anyone else who stands in my way, and then knock Jesse Styles out cold!!!!”
WILL THE REAL TEK SHIT HIMSELF?
WILL BLITZ EVER GET HIS HANDS ON STYLES??
WILL HE EVER FIND HIS FATHER???
WILL HE MAKE VARSITY??
ALL THESE THINGS AND MORE AS WE ARE……….
TO BE CONTINUED……………….
Until that day, until all are one.