by Brian Davis, Associate Athletics Director for Academic Services
Whew! That was a close one.
You’ve surely heard by now that Desmond Harrison, a promising junior college offensive lineman, came within a gnat's pube of not qualifying to enroll at the University this Fall. That would have been a disaster. And a few people have tried to blame me for this near-miss. Well, I’m here to clear the air.
It wasn’t my fault. Really.
Okay, so maybe I was asked to review Harrison’s transcripts earlier this summer. And maybe I was asked to determine what classes Harrison needed to take to qualify for the fall semester. And maybe I didn’t do that. Maybe, instead, I sat at my desk for a couple of hours one morning pretending to read Harrison’s transcripts. And maybe instead of reading those transcripts, I was actually daydreaming about Six Flags and making splashing noises while pantomiming the Log Flume ride with my pen. Maybe.
But let’s assume for the sake of argument that all of those hypothetical events happened. Even if all of those assumptions were true, would that really be so wrong? People make mistakes all the time. That’s why pens have erasers.
Although, come to think of it, whenever I try to erase the ink scribbles from those memos, official transcripts, academic guidance plans, and other boring crap people are always handing me at meetings, it doesn’t work so well. It just makes a big smudgy mess. And you can usually still tell that I was scribbling wieners and boobies and dirty words like “POOP” on those papers.
Hahaha!! “POOP.” That joke gets me every time.
I mean, even if I didn’t review Harrison’s transcript or give him sound guidance on what classes he needed to take or bother to follow up with him to see if he was on path to qualify, was doing all of that crap really my job? What am I, his mother? Am I supposed to pack his lunch? Tuck him in at night? Call him every morning to make sure his pants aren't on backwards again?
Wait a minute. Uh-oh. Um, hey -- do you guys remember if the little patch that says "Bugle Boy" is supposed to go on your poo-poo side or pee-pee side?
But I think you see my point. Who was really to blame for this near-disaster with Harrison? Maybe no one. Maybe Harrison’s mother. But surely not me. Heck, I barely even know the kid.
Do you know how many kids are on the University of Texas football team? A lot. At least a dozen. Maybe even 20. Surely it can't be my responsibility to keep track of each of these players’ academic records and help them stay qualified to play football. Can you imagine what that would even involve? At a minimum, I’d have to read the players’ transcripts. Learn what the NCAA and University academic requirements are. Learn the players' names, for Christ's sake! And then actually meet with them and give advice on all of this confusing stuff.
Fuck that! Who do I look like? Black Lightning? I don’t have time for that crap. It makes me dizzy just thinking about it.
But some loudmouths out there think they know what’s required of the Associate Athletics Director for Academic Services, and see fit to criticize me. They’ve even gone so far as to call me a “Mack Brown crony.” To which I just laugh. HA!
Ha. HA! HAAAaaaaaa!
PBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTT!!! Pleh! Plehck!
Oops. Sorry about that! Just swallowed a penny that was in my mouth. Nothing to worry about. Happens all the time.
As I was saying, people call me a crony. Do these critics even know what a crony is? Well, Webster’s defines “crony” as “a handsome, hairy-chested stud who can do a wicked windmill dunk on an 8 foot rim.” Probably. I didn’t actually look it up.
So yeah, that’s right. You got me. I’m just a Mack Brown crony. The handsomest, hairy-chestedest, windmill-dunkingest motherfucking crony you ever saw.