Kicking it with The Chief, Prep for Cal

As part of our 2006 preview, I met up with the man known as the “The Chief”, a prominent Tennessee Volunteers Defensive Coach. In response to the total Vol news overload*, I curled up Wednesday night in the nice, safe dog basket of the back room of impossibly exclusive Knoxville Tennessee watering hole The Emerald Club to review the Practice Notes and Nuggets from Volquest. The Chief and I sipped Long Island Ice Teas out of wine flutes designed to look like stripper shoes as we kicked around the weekly Phil Steele scorecard. The purpose of the interview is to discuss his strategy for the upcoming game against the California Golden Bears. JOE: Thanks for meeting me here Chief. You don’t mind if I call you Chief? The Chief: No problem Joe. Sometimes I gotta get away from Trooper Taylor and his crazy chest bumping shit JOE: I wasn't even aware of Trooper’s shit was crazy. Does it make you batshit crazy? The Chief: That's really shameful considering that you consider yourself some sort of half-man, half-Vol-culture god. JOE: You always say that people are half-man and half-something when you're drunk. The Chief: Touché, Douche JOE: Everyone says that Linebacker Ryan Karl is doing a Keith Richards impression this season. I prefer to think he's doing a Jack “Hacksaw” Reynolds impression. The Chief: I don't drink that much. [I bust out laughing.] The Chief: No, really. [The Chief busts out laughing.] JOE: You're so fucking drunk, Chief. JOE: I couldn't help but notice that your defense isn’t in the top 3. The Chief: I noticed that, too. JOE: But you're motherfucking drunken Chief, Mustang! The Chief: Tell me about it. JOE: Speaking of Mustang, are you planning on using your famous “Mustang” package against Cal? Chief Tikki Tavi. The Chief: Don't worry, it's coming. JOE: I also couldn't help but notice that you are having flirting with that cocktail waitress right in front of me. The Chief: See, when you say things like that, people are going to think that I'm drunk and hitting on a cocktail waitress right in front of you when that's clearly not the case. JOE: Excuse me, coat check girl. The Chief: Accuracy is important. Have you learned nothing from Trev Alberts? JOE: Back to the Mustang package. The Chief: On the field we call it "MUS-TAAANG." JOE: Can I just say something? Clowns are fucking funny. The Chief: They really fucking are. JOE: Fifth place or whatever. Last season sucked bad. Vanderbilt? What the fuck is up with that? The Chief: We had one of the lowest YPG average. JOE: Do you think Mexicans understand YPG average? Let's ask the coat check girl, I think she said she was from Missouri. The Chief: Don't be crazy, she will bring Mark-fucking May who will bring Lou Holtz along. I hate that guy. He spits when he talks. Like a damn Labrador Retriever that just drank a bowl full of water. Geez he is nasty old bastard. JOE: Dude, I was trying to throw some props your way. The Chief: Jesus Christ, I'm fucking drunk. JOE: At least I didn't slip in a Horse-related bestiality joke here. The Chief: Thanks for that. You're quality people, man. I gotta go get my coat. [He hugs me and falls asleep in my lap.] --------- [*It was either hang with The Chief or play keno and smoke crack with fellow Blogger The Grill Viper.] (Again for you fellow Vol Homers, This is FICTION) powered by performancing firefox powered by performancing firefox