Stan Geiger

Sean Sutton Speaks

ADDENDUM:

You know, one of the things I like about this platform is the fact that I have no editor. I'm da man, so to speak. I can write whatever I want, whenever I want. But, maybe, on a rare occasion, that works against a guy.

I can get rather zealous in making a point, as I'm sure my readers have noticed. Sometimes, I can get a bit overzealous. I think this might have been one of those times.

Don't take this as a retraction, because it isn't. I maintain my position that coaches are ridiculously overpaid, should not be working under longterm contracts that allow them to get paid a ton of money even if unsuccessful, and that a whole lot of people are under a lot more pressure than a basketball coach faces on the job.

It is, however, an apology. I was a wee bit too rough in this writing. So apologies to my readers. Apologies to Sean Sutton---a fellow that I'm sure has a lot of redeeming qualities and is deserving of more respect than he got from me in this piece. And apologies to the two sportscasters that I ragged. I'm sure they are a couple of fine fellows as well.

I watched the 'Sports Blitz' last night. I saw an interview with Sean Sutton. I'll warn you up front, if rough language offends you, click out.

I was appalled by Sutton's whine of the pressures of coaching. I was, perhaps, more appalled by the fawning of the two supposed journalists doing the interview. I fully expected either one of them to pull out a tissue and wipe the cheeks of the poor, downtrodden coach at any time.

Good God.

Sean Sutton got a job he never would have gotten without his daddy. He was paid $750,000 per year for the job. He failed. But because of contract protection, he walked away with a truckload of money. Yet he whines of the pressures of being a coach.

Let's talk pressure, coach.

A guy that has a crap job that gets paid something short of a living wage, and has an asshole for a boss, is under pressure. He's under pressure every day. He works a job he can't stand, day after day after day after day. But he keeps showing up. He keeps showing up so his family can eat.

What do you know about that, Coach Douche Bag?

Imagine yourself as a cop in the position of facing a nut-case that has a hand in a pocket. Do you hold fire and put your own life at risk or do you fire and run the risk of killing someone that doesn't deserve to die? You don't have a year or two to make a decision; you have seconds. That's pressure, Coach Vagina.

A firefighter on the job that screws up might kill his buddy. That's pressure. If a doctor in an emergency room that has been on the job for 36 straight hours makes a bad call, somebody might suffer or die. That's pressure.

A coach makes a bad decision and a team might lose a game. And who---other than gamblers---really gives a flyin' fart in a windstorm?

What if you were a woman that had given birth to a baby with a bit of a deficiency, Coach Scrotum? There's some pressure, don't you think? And not for a day or two, or even a year. That's pressure for a lifetime.

I happen to know a woman that gave birth to what you might call a less-than-perfect child. She doesn't whine; she doesn't complain. She, in fact, revels in being the mother of said child. I just imagine if you had a goal of getting your eyes scratched out, coming against that kid would be a good way to git 'er done.

The lady about whom I speak has more guts and character in her little finger than you will ever know, coach.

My mom was left hanging with a couple of young, hungry mouths nearly 50 years ago. There were no food stamps, welfare checks or rent subsidies in the day. But mom stuck her chin out and refused to lose. Because of that---along with some help from some very fine folks---I'm here to write this piece.

And ya know what? Momma don't get paid.

I could go further back, in my mom's case. She grew up in the Osage Hills, in the depths of the Great Depression. On many a day, meals were comprised of whatever could be found in the woods. Squirrel, rabbit, possum, greens, blackberries, whatever. I'd say there's some pressure involved with that scenario, wouldn't you, Coach Dick Face?

I do not want to turn on the TV and see any complaining from any mother-fuckin', good-for-nothin', whiny-bag, pussy, millionaire coach.

I reckon I've made my point.

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