Georgia On My Mind (Season 1): 2004 - UTSA Roadrunners

[Raven Hawk]

Steve walked into the tiny office and smiled as he let out a sigh. He had gotten up at 5:00 in the morning that day. It was a new day, a new job. The excitement of the day to come afforded him little sleep the night before. This was his opportunity. This is where it would begin . . . in this tiny office.

The tallish man removed his black baseball cap, laying it on the desktop, and scratched his head as he surveyed the room. The bookshelves were empty and painted a god-awful aquamarine color that went out of fashion decades ago. Although they were empty, they weren't clean. A stray rubberband here and a bent paperclip there, let him know that he shouldn't be expecting any maid service. The desk was certainly a donation from a company that no longer needed it. The top was scored with scratches and one leg was sturdied by a folded piece of cardboard. An old, stained coffee machine sat atop a wobbly end table that stood just inside the office door. It was not plugged in, but it was easy to tell that Mr. Coffee had seen better days. Steve wondered if it even worked. Bending down, he reached behind the end table, almost falling as the support of the end table shifted with his weight. Finally, he was able to reach the plug. He picked up the end of the plug and stabbed with it at an outlet that was located behind the end table. A soft hum rang closely to his ear has his latest attempt to plug in the machine scored a direct hit. Steve shifted back on his heels and looked at Mr. Coffee. Red light. A smile came to his face momentarily before he stood up and flipped the machine's power switch to 'off.'

Now content in the knowledge that Mr. Coffee was still alive, Steve pulled a flimsy purple binder out from being tucked under his arm and threw it on his desk. On a small card on the front, the binder read "The Dogbone Offense by Steve Secora: Property of the University of Texas at San Antonio." Steve stepped around to the other side of the desk and decided to give the chair a test run. He pulled it away from the desk and cautiously sunk down into the olive green vinyl. Not bad. Not good. But not bad. He leaned back in the chair and saw his black cap staring him back in the face. The large solid black "G" trimmed in red and white displayed itself proudly above the brim. One day, he would get there. Some day. This was just the beginning.

This head coaching position hadn't fallen into Steve's lap, no. This job was earned. How much longer could he have put up with those clumsy teenagers at the High School level? Not long at all. Two state championships in five years turned somebody's head. Not bad for a state as large as Texas. Unfortunately, very few people were hiring this year. It was San Antonio that sent him a head coaching offer. He had interviewed for coordinator positions at some of the bigger schools - A&M, TCU, UT, UTEP - but just didn't feel like he could give up the control after running his high school Team for eight years. San Antonio. The Roadrunners. How did he get himself here?

He opened the drawers on his new desk to discover a host of empty file folders, a couple clipped coupons that expired years ago, and white and blue BIC pen that had "UTSA Roadrunners" printed on it. He slid the pen into his shirt pocket then sat back and smiled.

"Coach Secora of the UTSA Roadrunners . . . Not bad . . . not good, but not bad . . . I like how it sounds."

[Raven Hawk]

After relaxing in the chair for a few minutes, the coach's eyes returned to Mr. Coffee. Mmmm. I bet a cup of Joe would go down real good right now. Coach Secora got up and went over to Mr. Coffee and pulled the brown-stained glass pot out from the device. The coach grimaced as he took a wiff of the fumes coming out of the old coffee pot. It would have to be cleaned. After scrunching his nose about to remove the stale, moldy coffee odor, the coach got to looking for coffee and filters. Lucky for him, there was a stash hidden in a cabinet, painted aquamarine to match, just above Mr. Coffee's roost. He closed the cabinet content in knowing that he had the material needed to make himself a fresh pot of coffee. The coach left his office and proceded down the hallway towards the bathroom with the dirty coffee pot in hand.

Just outside of the bathroom, Coach Secora paused as he heard whistling coming from inside the men's room. He was suprised that anybody else would be in as early as him. He pushed the door open and walked around a seafoam green cinderblock divider into the men's room. There, standing at one of the urinals was his offensive coordinator, Dan Caruthers. The coach remembered meeting Dan during the interview process. Just like everything else in Texas, Dan was big. At least 300 pounds big. Dan was twice the man he was when he played tailback for the Aggies back in '78. An injury to his Achilles Tendon during his senior year, however, ruined his career. He went undrafted in '79. Sure he went to a couple of camps - Bears, Niners, Oilers - but he couldn't catch on. That being said the man knew a lot about the tailback position. He had been running the wishbone with the Roadrunners for five years now. Since, the Coach's system was based off of the wishbone, he decided to keep Dan around.

Dan rocked back on his heels as he whistled the a Hank Williams song. As the door slammed shut behind Coach Secora, it caught Dan's attention and the whistling ceased.

"Hey there, Coach. Didn 'spect to see you in so early!" Dan said in a booming voice.

"Yeah," Steve responded as he made his way over to the sink to clean out his coffee pot, "Couldn't sleep last night. I can't wait to meet the boys."

"I 'spect they're all anxious to meet y'all as well," Dan replied. "A cuppla em already checked in ta see if ya arrived yesterday. Not sure if theys more 'cited to see y'all or get away from their padres if ya know what I mean."

Dan cracked himself up and broke out into a childish giggle seemed very foreign to such a large man.

"I bet it's a little of both, Dan. I bet it's a little of both," Coach Secora said with a gratuitous smile. He didn't find Dan all too funny, but figured him to be good enough of a man not to mock him.

At that, a loud whoosh enveloped the washroom, quickly followed by a zip and a snap. Dan backed away from the urinal and headed for the door.

"See ya at eight Coach," he said as he proceeded toward the door without washing his hands.

"Make that seven thirty . . . and tell Earl, if you see him, that I'd like him there, too."

"10-4, Coach."

The door creaked as it opened and slammed shut again, marking Dan's exit. After about five minutes of harsh scrubbing, the Coach finally dubbed the coffee pot clean enough to drink out of. He filled it to 10-cup mark with water and headed back to his office.

[Raven Hawk]

Coach Secora strolled back into his office with coffee pot full of water. He set the pot back down on his desk as he opened up Mr. Coffee. What more should he have expected than month old coffee rinds. The coach covered his nose as picked up two edges of the coffee filter, folding it in two, between his thumb and forefinger. He looked down at the grey Rubbermaid garbage pail next to the end table and balked. He didn't want this stinking up the office all day. With his nose tucked safely into his left elbow and right arm extended with the old coffee filter, the coach briskly made his way back to the bathroom and dropped the filter in the trash can there. He immediately took a deep breath as he practically fell out of the bathroom removing his face from its previously tucked position.

When he got back back to the office, he resumed the process of making a pot of coffee. He placed the filter in, then the grounds, then he filled the machine with the water from the pot. Finally he placed the pot of coffee on the hot plate and moved Mr. Coffee's switch to 'ON.'

Hmmmmmmmmmmm

The humming sound was coming forth from Mr. Coffee, the red light was on. But Mr. Coffee wasn't making him any coffee. A brief wave of panic came over the coach as he realized that he might not have his coffee that morning. The coach spent the next hour or so trying to fix Mr. Coffee. He tried emptying the water, changing the filter, checking the nozzle for a clog. As persistent as he was, he couldn't get Mr. Coffee to produce. Just as the Coach was about to crack open Mr. Coffee to get at its inner workings, there was a knock on the door.

Standing outside were Dan and Earl. It was 7:30. Earl was a smaller man. Coach Secora had met him in the interview process as well. This man was probably the toughest interview the coach had ever had. His questions were easily answered by one word, "Yes" or "No," and the interview took only ten minutes. Yet the coach didn't get any real impression about Earl except that Earl wasn't a "people" person. On the bright side, Earl came bearing two cups of coffee. Earl offered up a cup of coffee to the coach.

"Durn thing hasn't worked for months," Earl said as he looked into the Coach's eyes and tipped his head toward Mr. Coffee.

As soon as Coach Secora took the cup of coffee, Earl made a b-line toward a chair in the corner of the office. He sat down and began sipping his coffee.

"Good to see you again, Earl," the coach said towards Earl, "and thanks for the coffee."

Earl just nodded back at the Coach. Coach Secora's eyes lingered on Earl for a moment before Dan broke the silence.

"Don't mind him, Coach. He don't talk much," said Dan in his overly boisterous voice. "So what did ya want to talk to us about, anyhow?"

The coach replied, "Take a seat."

Dan followed direction and sat down in a chair in front of the Coach's desk. Coach Secora sat on the corner of his desk so that he could address Dan, Earl, and Mr. Coffee.

"I want to know what y'all think of our team this year," the coach continued, "Who's good, who's bad, who's got a future in our program and who doesn't."