What we want?

By: Creedus Maximus

Gene Chizik is, by all accounts, a nice guy.  We needed his faith, his quiet strength, and his calm demeanor to help up weather the many storms that came our way during our path to the National Championship.  His good stewardship was exactly what was called for in such extraordinary circumstances.

Unfortunately, in the world of ordinary college football, nice guys finish last.  In the dog-eat-dog, kill-your-own-grandmother-if-she-gets-in-your-way world of college football, assholes finish first.

And right now, the biggest asshole in college football is sitting over on the west side of the state, with lifts in his shoes, and a Little Debbie Oatmeal Pie in his hand while he drafts the next step in the Process towards World Domination.

It has been pointed out to the Auburn faithful time and time again this past few days that our biggest problem is not who we hire to replace Chizik – it’s finding someone who can compete against The Nicktator.  This is a problem for Auburn folks, because we have always prided ourselves on being above the fray, being people of good character above all else.  We mocked the Turds for their “win at any price and at any cost” mentality when they threw the checkbook at Saban.  But it paid off for them.

And with these facts into evidence, it is time for the Auburn faithful to make a decision.

We can treat The Creed like Appendix 1 to the Ten Commandments, and maintain our moral high ground.  We can smile smugly and nod knowingly and congratulate one another for not lowering ourselves to their level while the Turd Reich goosesteps into Atlanta each year.  And we can be happy to end a “good” year with the Poulan Weedeater Bowl in lovely Shreveport each December while the Inbred Nation rack up crystal egg after crystal egg.

Or we can admit to ourselves that the times, they are a’changing.

If we are going to win in the SEC of 2012, in the era of the four team playoff, in the era of the power conferences, the choice is simple.

We are gonna have to go and get us an asshole of our very own.

We need a coach to kick ass and take names and call people out at practice, in the locker room, in the film room, in the weight room.  We need a coach who will stand up to the meddlers and interfering busybodies who try and manipulate the football program for their own selfish and egotistical purposes, and tell them to get the hell out of his locker room and the hell off his sideline and the hell off of his practice field and stay the hell away from his players, and oh, by the way, leave their f***ing donation check at the door.  We need a coach who will use every legal and ethical means necessary to return our program to where it once was – first place in the toughest division in the best conference in the country.

Having an asshole for a coach does not mean we the Auburn Faithful have to tolerate a coach who demonstrates nothing but contempt and disdain for a bunch of groveling slavish toadie followers.  A good coach understands that there is a right time and a proper place to appreciate and cultivate the support of his fan base, because a good coach recognizes that them that put you on that there pedestal will be them that’ll take you right the hell off of it.

But we should tolerate a coach who prepares for the best, expects the best, and by damn, demands the best from his players, without excuses or hand holding or Kumbayah prayer meetings.  Passion and fire, yelling, screaming, vein popping apoplectic fits on the sidelines – that works.  Accountability – for your own actions, for the actions of your teammates – or you pay the price.  Perfection – giving all you have, every practice, every study hall, every day, until it gets done and is done right – no excuses tolerated.

My idea of the perfect presser for our new head coach goes something like this (apologies in advance to the awesome writers of Heartbreak Ridge and all Jarheads past and present):

My name is Coach Biggest Asshole, and I’ve drunk more beer and pissed more blood and stomped more ass than all of you numbnuts put together.  My players are gonna be hard chargers! My assistants and I are gonna take a handful of young fire pissers you call recruits, teach ’em to f***ing tackle, teach ’em to exercise some GOTDAMN personal initiative and then go out on that GOTDAMN field and kick some GOTDAMN ASS – starting with that sawed off little s*** in West Vance!

And after Jay Jacobs excuses himself to go clean the s*** out of his pants, and the EMS medics cart Phillip Marshall’s acute myocardial infarcting ass off to the ER, I want him to storm into the team meeting room to face his new players:

So.  Welcome to Hell, population you.  If you ladies think that you can slip and slide just because your last coach was a p*****, well baby dolls, think again.  I’m here to tell you that life as you knew it has ended. You all may as well go into town tonight. Hell, hit the Supper Club.  Enjoy your last pipe.  You may as well laugh and make fools out of yourselves. Rub your pathetic little peckers against your fat little girlfriends or stick it in a knothole in the fence but whatever it is, get rid of it.  Auburn is looking for a few good men. Unfortunately a lot of you guys ain’t them. We will blaze a path into battle for others to follow. Surrender is not in our Creed.  When you start looking like Auburn men, you’ll start feeling like Auburn men and then, Goddamn it, you’ll start acting like Auburn men. So go enjoy your last night out, ladies.  Because at 0600 tomorrow your ass is mine.

THAT.  That is what I want.

If hiring an asshole means we field a team where every single player knows his role, knows the fundamentals, and most of all leaves his guts on the field every play, every down, every game, then give me an asshole any day.  I don’t even care which asshole we hire – but I want him to spit fire and eat facemasks and piss Gatorade.

No other credentials needed.

WAR F***ING EAGLE.

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