Last week, endlessly successful and entirely un-embattled head coach Mack Brown happily chirped that he'll be clapping furiously along the Texas sidelines until at least 2020. Presumably, he'll use this time at the helm of his vast media empire to goad the Texas public into supporting a full-on land war with Oklahoma, distracting from the recent woeful state of affairs in Dallas. We support this, of course.
It would be easy to dismiss Mack's long-term vision as the selfish clinging on of a powerful, entrenched personality with a desperate need to be loved and a penchant for self-delusion. And easy things are good, so we'd normally roll with that, but it bears noting the reaction from Mack's toughest critic:
So hopefully this all goes stunningly well, with the MACKBROWNTEXASFOOTBALL wealth and optimism machine cranking out a series of championships as we enter a period of unmatched football prosperity in Austin, and our glorious leader never forsakes us with retirement. Hopefully, mediocre seasons and runner-up finishes don't continue to pile up year after year. Hopefully, Bill Little never gets drunk and passes out on his keyboard in the middle of an uncharacteristically negative dreamwagon recap, earning a permanent vacation to work on his wistful poetry compendium in the piney woods.
Hopefully, all of the modestly successful assistants won't variously leave Mack, spurn his awkward entreatments or outright attempt suicide just to avoid working with him. And hopefully the whole enterprise won't just fail altogether, leaving him isolated and shut off from accountability in sprawling Xanadu Hall, having grown an Akina-grade lipwarmer and running out the clock while yearning for that one fleeting moment of perfect happiness from his younger days that he was never able to recapture.