Go big blue

The head football coach at the high school where I attended was a classic. A balding and graying man who wore cowboy boots and jeans, dim-witted and dull-headed, and notorious for a booming voice you could hear all the way to Douglas County. The players feared him and wanted to be like him, the fans loved him and the rest of the school loathed him.

He had been given a position teaching history, which I'm sure was just a holding tank for him and his tenure, during daytimes and off-seasons. In class, he used to say things like, "You can judge the brains of a woman by the size of her earrings," and his class full of meatheads would eagerly take notes, hanging on his every word, but knowing that no matter how they did, they had sanctity in this room and would be given A's.

I haven't reached the best part, however. To truly know the man and his game, you must know his god-given name, and I kid you not about this, it was... Coach Pounder.