Hoya Football is Exactly Like “Friday Night Lights”! Race.
View this issue’s print version
Every Friday I tune in to my favorite program, “Friday Night Lights” on NBC at 9:00 PM. Why? Because each day I grow more convinced that it is based entirely on my own life. Just like Coach Taylor I am also a football coach, and just like the Dillon Panthers the guys I coach play football. But more importantly, I understand what it means to have exceedingly high expectations for your team, for an entire community to be dependent on your success. I know that for Georgetown, football is all we’ve got. When we lose, this community is paralyzed. Believe me, I understand that more than anyone else. Every single loss is like losing a child for me. But after losing your 10th child, sometimes you have to say, hey, it’s just a kid. It’s not that big a deal.
I guess what I’m trying to say is I need space. I can’t have students busting into my office and handing in plays they drew up during microeconomics. I can’t have President DeGioia constantly using the emergency direct line to my office to offer potential starting line-ups. I can’t have professors and deans calling me at 3 AM because they suddenly realized there was a weak side in our 3-4 formation. I can’t have Jesuits warning me that if we don’t win on Saturday Jesus will have died in vain. And as long as we’re on the topic of Jesuits, Father Schall you have got to stop trying to give my quarterback stigmata, because it’s really fucking up his throwing hand, plus it makes the other players really uncomfortable. Oh and also, I checked the Bible the other day and Jesus never said, “One day I will return to play for the Dallas Cowboys because these marks from the nails make me really good at football.”
I suppose I was a bit naïve when I first took on the team coming off a riveting 3-8 season in 2005. Somehow I was expected to maintain that high level of football as well as helping heal the community after every tragedy that struck, as well as being asked to speak at all major benefits, graduations, etc. And I suppose my first season didn’t help lower expectations. I don’t like to brag, but 2-9 isn’t exactly an easy act to follow. But for Chrissakes we were 1-10 this season and I understand what that’s doing to the community. Suicide rates have tripled, GPAs are at an all-time low and the neighborhood is going into recession. But I beg you, before you crucify me, ask yourself, WWJD? Because if you crucify me, I will only come back three days later and lead the team to further disappointment.
