In case you missed it, here is the epilogue: http://8thmaxim.com/site/forum/content/187-fire-derek-dooley.html ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Derek arrived at his office early. The team was busy with morning weight-lifting, and he was going to meet with his assistants to discuss recruiting and the depth chart going into fall practice. Before going to the conference room to prepare, Derek needed to get through his morning "to-do" list in his office. Derek pulled out the ruler in his desk and checked the spacing of his stationary. One and a half inches from the edge. Perfect. Yellow and pink highlighters? Check. An adequate supply of paper clips? Check. After several other assorted office supplies were properly inventoried, Derek climbed upon his chair, and inspected the smoke alarm above his desk. The electronic beep the device produced for him satisfied his office inspection. Derek surveyed his office domain with a satisfied smirk. Every detail was in order. He climbed down from his chair, and sat behind his desk. Derek pulled out a small spray bottle filled with water, and gave the potted bamboo on his desk a gentle misting. He had been faithfully watering the small green stick with only two leaves since he had moved into his office over two years ago. He nor his staff had noticed it was plastic. Derek's secretary knocked gently on the office's door frame and poked her head in. "Coach Dooley, the coaches are in the conference room for the meeting." "Thanks, let them know I'll be with them in just a minute," he replied. Derek then spun his chair 90 degrees to the left to face the full length mirror he kept on the wall next to his desk. He reached into a drawer, his hand briefly hovering over a rather exotic selection of combs. With a moment of indecision, he chose one carved from African padauk wood. Derek then stood in front of the mirror, checked the crease of his pants, adjusted his collar, and sculpted his hair with the comb. The dark magic of the Congo shamans who forged it briefly left smoke-like tendrils twisting out of his immaculate part line. He then smoothed his polo shirt, making sure it was tucked in all around his waist without a single fold. There. Perfect. It was going to be an Orange Dog kind of day. Derek walked into the conference room, and took his place in the lone empty chair at the table. He liked to sit by Jim and Sal, because they were the only two who's names he could remember. He had accidentally mistaken Sam Pittman for Ed Orgeron last week and had him thrown out of the building by security. It was embarrassing, but the other coaches conceded that there was a resemblance. To avoid any future incidents, Derek had simply assigned all the position coaches nicknames. "Good mornin', gentlemen. Let's jump right to business. Who has the depth chart for the beginning of fall practice? Sherminator?" "Yes Derek I have them," Coach Hinshaw grimaced. "But I warn you, it make look a little different than you expect as I removed players that are currently academically eligible for the fall." Coach Hinshaw started to pass copies around the room. "Whoa, whoa now. Sherman, I'm the only one who needs a copy. I'm the head coach. I'm the drum major. You guys are just the tambourines or cymbals or whatever the hell they got on the field when we're doing our halftime team meditation and Power Tea ceremony. I'll choose when to disseminate this to the rest of you." Coach Chaney cleared his throat. "Uh, Double D. It would probably help us tighten up our schemes for the season if we have an idea of the personnel at our proposal. I mean, last year you wouldn't give me an updated depth chart until after the Arkansas game. I wondered why Justin was looking so short and pale the last few weeks, and was wearing Da'Rick's practice jersey. Turns out we have some white receiver named Rogers t--" Derek raised his hand while staring at the depth chart in front of him, cutting Coach Chaney off. "What is this shit? It looks like a third of the projected starters in the Spring are missing from this list." Coach Hinshaw shifted nervously in his seat. "Derek, a lot of the guys just aren't making the grades. They're currently not eligible, and our APR ratings are still suffering." Derek's eyes widened with disbelief. "What do you mean not eligible? All because they didn't get straight A's? It shouldn't be about the grade, it's about the process. They can't be expected to go from never having taken a particular class before to passing the tests in the same semester." Hinshaw rolled his eyes but remained silent. Derek sighed. "Alright, we'll revisit this issue later Sherminator. Let's focus on the positive. I found the core of our 2013 class while picking up a pizza at the Little Caesar's off of Cedar Bluff on the way home. I've got three letters for you: CAK. --------------------------- Episode 2 coming soon.