David Brandon's Pimp Hand. Rich Rodriguez
'Twas the week before the Gator Bowl, and back in A-squared,
The game plan to beat MSU, had been already prepared;
A dangerous opponent that southern MSU,
Not our little brother whose team has a felon or two;
The players were all healthy back in Schembechler Hall,
Ordered to play well and to “hold on to the damn ball”;
And GERG with his beaver, and I my pimp hand,
Had just completed a discussion about his last stand,
When out on the practice turf arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my office to see what was the matter.
I set down my phone after reading my tweets,
Grabbed my new overcoat and headed down State Street.
Past Yost where Red and the boys were out on the ice,
A championship in hockey this year would surely be nice.
This football discussion had become quite a huge show,
As I had a plan that no one else can know
Entering the field, to my wandering eyes did appear,
A motivated coach Rodriguez, and all his players in gear,
Running precise passing plays, so lively and quick,
The offense we all know does really click.
These real Michigan Men he recruited and they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Shoelace! now, Lewan! now, Roundtree and Stonum!
On, Martin! on Mouton! on, Kovacs and Demens!
“You made it to 7 and 5 at the end of this fall!
If we win one more time, my firing you may forestall!”
They were led by Schilling and Moundros in a chorus or two,
Of “The Victors” they sang finishing with a big “Let’s Go Blue!
So back to the locker and weight rooms they flew,
With the speed, strength, and force ready to beat MSU.
And then, he approached me, this West Virginia man,
He shared with enthusiasm, his forward thinking plan.
“I have kept working, with all of this media stuff around,
Writers, pundits, and bloggers wishing I would leave town.”
“But I have kept recruiting, adjustments I will make,
New talent I can get, from almost any state.”
“I have Dee Hart, Countess, and a kid with a great foot,
With your word I can get Zettel, Frost and Watkins to boot.”
“I am finally ready to come up with a new defensive attack,
Just find me a new DC and I will allow him his own staff.”
His eyes -- how they twinkled! This game he does love!
It is my decision now, as I am the man up above!
I said “Coach you are not like the old man Bo,
But there are things about football you surely do know.”
I thought a moment more and I gritted my teeth,
I let him know of my plan but it must stay discrete;
I said I would keep him, but we needed a week,
So I would still look good to the fans on the street.
He was relieved with the news, and promised me stealth,
Filled with pride and integrity, he smiled to himself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And looking at his playbook; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, his confidence greatly rose;
He sprang to his feet, to his team gave a whistle,
Ready to destroy Mississippi State, like a heat seeking missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he ran out of sight,
"A Michigan Man I am, and as your coach we will be alright."
I have been very curious about Monday, even though DB shot down any idea of a press conference. For what it's worth, a very good friend of mind who talks with RR regularly (newspaper person) said he doesn't know what the hell is going on, and that he knows of no press conference. Just passing it on. Can't say who it is, but this isn't some double-secret figment of my imagination. After hearing this, I feel a little more at ease that there will be no public lynching of RR tomorrow.
I await your verbal dong punches...