John Cohen sits behind home plate at Dudy-Noble Field. It is a hot summer afternoon, and practice has just ended. He stares out at the LFL while dreaming of the raucous crowds of yesteryear, Sluggin' Sam Frost belting bombs against the hated Florida Gators, and of daschunds. "Daschunds", he wonders? "What does this mean? What is happening to me?"
[Meanwhile, in Birmingham, Mike Slive picks up the phone.]
[Cohen's phone rings.]
Slive: "Hey John, it's me, Mike"
Cohen: [f***] "Uh, my bad, Mike. Ignore what I just said. Good to hear from you."
Slive: "Well, John, I can't ignore what you just said; it is what I am calling you about."
Cohen: "Aww, come on, man. I didn't mean any harm when I screamed a few obscenities at the ump last Sunday."
Slive: " You told him his mother fornicated with Harvey Updyke, bro. That is, like, totally unacceptable."
Cohen: "Mike, you're old. Quit talking like you're cool. Who do you think you are, Trooper Taylor? Anyway, I figured the ump would take that as a complement. I thought most Bama fans wished there was a possibility they were the illegitimate spawn of Updyke?"
Slive: "Sorry, Dog. Or is it is Dude? The point is, John, you cursed out an ump, and you did so because you were upset your team did not win. This is unacceptable. I only ask two things of MSU fans, coaches and administrators, and you have yet to learn either."
Cohen: "Oh, you're so clever, Mike. Annnnddd those two things are?"
Slive: "Never curse, and never try to win. I thought Scott told you about this when you were hired?
Cohen: "Interesting. Scott told he wanted to win and make noise in the postseason. How did you not know this? Hell, the man fired Stansbury for f**** sake."
Slive: "That's it, John. I've had enough. I was going to just force you to miss Friday night's game against the Gators, but now you're making me take this ish to the next level. I'm sorry, John, but I only know of one way to teach you how to quit cursing and trying to win: You're going to meet with The Swan, and you're going to learn his ways."
Cohen: " Oh, no. Mike, please, I beg you. You're basically pushing the big red button.
Slive: [poors a glass of Pappy Van Winkle. hangs up phone]
[Meanwhile, at Gene Swindoll's house, the phone rings.]
Slive: "Your wish has been granted, Gene. John is going to moderate your free board for a day."
[dogs leap in excitement, Gene hurriedly fixes a batch of green tea.]
Gene: "Honey, guess what?!!!! Coach Cohen is going to serves as a moderator on our beloved website, for one day."
Mrs. Swindoll: "Oh, great! I can't wait to find out his opinion of Skyler Laine getting voted off of American Idol."
[Door opens. Cohen saunters in. Dogs flee in terror.]
Cohen: [eyes Gene's man purse] "What's up, Gene? Did Mike tell you why I am here?"
Gene: "Of course, John. We are here to help you in any way we can."
Cohen: " Good. So, Gene, I'll just be blunt: How the hell do you and your sheep, I mean followers, keep an entire message board free of cursing? And a desire to win?"
Gene: "Well, we just realize that MSU is doomed for eternity, and we will never win. Haven't you read my free board? The bigM makes a very compelling case as to why we should drop athletics all together."
Cohen: "I hate people like that. They're the sort of folks who wanted to keep Croom around for several for more years."
Gene: "John, we do not need to go there."
Cohen: "So short of giving up all hope and becoming Pentecostal, what exactly am I supposed to do to in order to cease cursing and having a desire to win, Gene?"
Gene: " [leans in close and whispers in Cohen's ear] Dogs, John. Dogs.
Cohen: "I don't keep dogs, Gene; I let them out. Kevin O'Sullivan is going to learn this tonight.
[Sullivan isn't even concerned about tonight. He and the team are shopping for some new Affliction t-shirts and jorts to wear to the Nickleback show they have been waiting all year to attend.]
Gene: "Sorry John, but that is our secret. Rescuing animals is the only thing we have found that takes our mind off of MSU athletics."
Cohen: "I'll be damned if I am going to become an animal hoarder. If I do, I will hoard the carcasses of cats I killed with my child's pellet gun."
Cohen: "So, Gene, you have to have some sort of secret. There has to be some sort of divine insight you can offer me."
Gene: [makes sure wife is not listening} I've got three words for you, John: Mike's. Hard. Lemonade."
/for any Genespage users who may wander over here: no, this is not a true story.
/this post written by studentdawg87, obviously, because it's much better than anything of mine