Bill O’Brien walks into his office Monday morning…

A note is on his desk saying, “Coaches meeting, room 409, 8 AM.”

“Odd,” he thinks, “I don’t think I’ve heard of that room before.” He spends a few moments gathering his notes from Saturday night, all marked with scribbled reminders like, “Fewer quick slants and more longer-developing run plays!!!”

At 7:55, he walks through the door marked 409, a nondescript conference room. Bill walks to the long table in the middle of the floor and sits in the chair with the placard marked “Offensive Coordinator” on it. 8 AM comes and goes but no one enters. He frowns to himself, his chin puckering in confusion. Coach Saban is never late.

Finally, at 8:14, Pete Golding stumbles in, disheveled and smelling of Wild Turkey. He stops short and looks bleary-eyed at Bill. “Wha-“ he starts, but suddenly the door slams shut behind him, just as the lights go out. He staggers around, nearly falling over. Bill pushes back from the table, almost hitting his backwards hat on the wall behind him. “What’s going on?! What’s happening??” he exclaims.

Pete tries the door but it’s locked. They stare at each other for a moment. “Whassat noise?” Pete slurs, as a hissing sound fills the room. Fog begins billowing out of the vents. Both start to cough.

As they collapse to the floor, Bill looks toward the door. It’s too foggy to tell clearly, but the last thing he sees before passing out is the shadow of a thinning head of hair just barely appearing at the bottom of glass. He’d always known this was possible, he’d heard the stories of what happens when you disappointed Lord Saban, but he thought they were probably exaggerated. He knew better now.

Hours later, he and Pete are awakened by rough hands grabbing them and tossing them out on the side of a road seemingly in the middle of endless rows of corn. They notice a sign in the distance and begin walking toward it. As they draw closer, Pete is the first to make out the words, “Lincoln - 32 miles.”





Ah, who am I kidding, Saban’s not gonna do anything. But, a guy can dream.