Rebel Rebel You've Torn Your Dress

When I get pissed off I just want to screw the establishment.  All those fat cats sitting around doing nothing, getting rich off the average Joe.   I'm not so sure what was pissing me off about the NFL, but I decided to do something about it.  And money was no obstacle.  Because I'm fabulously rich. Really.  And I think somewhere along the line I used to own an NFL team or two. Maybe I was just the General Manager of one of them.  I can't remember.   But what I do remember is that I have all kinds of money and I was really pissed at the NFL for the way it treated one of its openly gay coaches who came out of the closet and was ostracized by the NFL and its fans.  So I decided to do something about it.

The coach and me were sitting at a table at the Village Inn in Gillette, Wyoming.  I had invited him there because I wanted to hire him.  That would show the NFL.  Fuck them, I would bring the gay coach back.  I told the coach my plans.  I wanted to hire him for the new N.F.L. franchise team I was going to set up in Memphis, Tennessee.  So I started to tell the coach my plan:

"Look ______, (insert Coach's name--I can't remember what his name is but I'm sure you remember him--he was the one kicked off his team for being gay), you will have complete control of the football operations and player personnel.   I mean, I can handle the General Manager piece if you want to be the coach, or you can hire a head coach--whoever you want--and be the GM.  I just want to impress upon you that you will have complete control of the organization.  I mean I'm not going to be one of those owners like Jerry Jones who sticks is dick into everything and doesn't let the coaches coach.  I'll give you as much support as you want.   If you want me to be the GM and you be head coach, that's also fine.   You know more about the scouting operations than I do.  What is important is that you set up a team with anyone you want on it.  The best that money can buy.  And I don't care if they are all gay--we call the team the Memphis Fairies.  I just want to get back at the NFL.  I want your team to kick ass!

Well, even though the coach and I had a table by ourselves, I wondered if the people around us could hear us.  The Coach is wildly famous.  His excommunication from the NFL was front page news.    I could tell that everyone around us was listening in.  When the coach saw that everyone in the restaurant was eavesdropping, his speech changed to this high pitched accent that sounded just like a woman.   I told him that if he talked like that he would definitely create a stir at team press conferences.  Let them talk about that on ESPN.   Fuck them all anyway.

After we had finished our dinner, the door to the kitchen opened and we were motioned to descend down a stairway at the back of the restaurant.  One of the waiters warned us not to get too close to the cook, "stay away from him, he might hurt you."

"Fuck him," I replied.  "I'm far past doing anyone any good, and he's far past doing anyone any harm.  Its my coach you should worry about.   He might change you perspective on reality if you get too close to him."  

With that, the staff cowered away and we proceeded into the basement.  Though the ceiling was low, we could see a variety of crates, widely scattered, each containing a single dog.  But these were no ordinary dogs.   Their heads were misshapen as the growths that appear on old trees with jaws that could sever a man's leg's with a mouthful.  The din of the barking was incredible.

"Now you see my friend," I told the coach,  "My new training ground.  I will stop at nothing to get back at the NFL.  I'm not sure why I carry this vendetta against them, but I do, and I will pull out all the stops to get the first gay team into the Super Bowl.  
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Incidentally, I'm not sure if the Village Inn is still there, but if it is, it was the Village Inn on that road that goes from the east side of Gillette to the Wyodak coal mine and power plant.  State Route 51.  My grandfather and I used to drive me there all the time when I was young and my parents were out of town.   You can read about that by clicking here.   I wonder if the Village Inn is still there?   Let me check on Google maps right now to see if the Village Inn still exits and give you the address.  (here insert a pause while I conduct an Internet search of Village Inn, Gillette, Wyoming).  Nope, the Village Inn does not exit anymore, at least at that location.  And the Wyodak mine is now Pacific Gas and Electric.  But that is of no consequence to this story.  It may be interesting though that I took to coach to the same restaurant that my Grandfather took me.  But my advice is not too look too deeply into such things.