Dec 18, 2007 at 11:57 pm

Robert, we’ve been sitting here 20 minutes. Besides mumbling about “crossing patterns,” all you’ve done is doodle on a pad and write down names. Would you like to share?
It’s Bobby, not Robert. Nobody calls me Robert. Nobody has ever called me Robert. Understand?
Sorry Bobby. Talk to me. What are you feeling?

I haven’t the slightest idea why AD Jeff Long sent me here. Why do I need to talk to a shrink? Got a new job. I should be out recruiting. I need to assemble a new staff. I’ve got plays to diagram. I don’t have time for this. (Cell phone rings.) I know you told me to turn this off …
Bobby, I really think we need to try and concentrate here …
… but I’m taking this call. It’s my agent … (To caller) Yes … Yes … Really? … Of course I’m interested. You think I want to be stuck here in Fayetteville where nobody loves me anymore? The wife and kids will adjust. They have to. I’ll make sure they do. They do what I tell them to do. Of course, talk with the school.
Do you want to share about that call? You thinking about leaving Arkansas already? You’ve been here less than two weeks.

Listen, between you and me doc, I watched Casey Dick work out yesterday, and he’s too much of project to be my kind of quarterback. Felix Jones is thinking of bolting. So much for loyalty, huh? So I’ve got little here to work with. The fans are on my ass already. I figure, cut my losses and split. Nothing wrong with taking care of number one.

But Bobby, don’t you understand this constant moving around is indicative of serious psychological problems? You left Atlanta the day after you promised your boss you’d stay. At Louisville you flirted yearly with every school that could spell your name. Now you’re thinking of abandoning the Razorbacks and you haven’t even unpacked. What are you going to tell the Arkansas fans?

I’m not going to tell them anything. They don’t know me. I mean, really, why should I care? (Cell phone rings.) Don’t even say it. I’m taking the call, it’s my agent again.
Robert — Bobby — please, I’m really trying to help you here. Your behavior is pathologically narcissistic, and possibly schizophrenic in nature. You have issues to deal with.

Well, schizoid this. (Into phone.) They want me? Great. How much? … They’ll send a private plane, right? … What else? … No, don’t say it, they want me too? So what that they still need to fire the current guy. Can they get it done today? … Call me back when you know something.
Listen, Bobby, I sense what’s going on here. You really need to take a look at this. You can’t just keep running from job to job. You need to find serenity where you are.

Well, I know I’m not happy sitting here with you. You don’t know me. Nobody knows me. I’m the next big thing in college football. If I don’t get it done here, I will at one of these other places. Where they adore me. This session is over.
R.I.P. Mike Redd. The former Seneca Redskin baller was a state champ and arguably the most talented prepster ever to hoop around here, Grif, Unseld (his teammate) and Beard notwithstanding.

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Attention sports fans: This column (the column formerly known as “Rumor & Innuendo”) has slimmed down to fighting trim. In light of the Mitchell Report, our union chief and agent advise we decline to comment about alleged steroid bloat in the past.
All together now: Woooooooo pig sooooey!!!!!
Attention real estate agents: Needed in Louisville for once-a-year use, a smaller basketball practice facility. Contact M. Barnhart, Lexington, KY.
Coming soon to an arena football team near you: Super Mario. Whatever is that Creeker thinking?
For sale. At bargain basement prices, a one-win NFL team. Contact W. Huizenga, Miami, FLA.
Soon to be announced on Fox: A new reality show starring Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens. It’s called “Who’s Got Muscle?” Or, on Univision, “¿Quién tiene más músculo?”
God bless the Red guy and Blue gal in the grocery Saturday evening. After commiserating about their team’s Ls, they got in a good-natured argument in the cereal aisle over which school will have the best baseball team.

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