The Screwed Tape Letters: Waiting for the Barbarians
Dr. Del Conte,
(I assume Dr. to be the proper honorific, as is wise when addressing any member of an institution of higher learning; I subscribe to this adage, my own: if there exists a smidgen of doubt, always round up—pay attention, NCAA men’s basketball rankers!)
Dr. Del Conte,
(Sounds nice; if you don’t have your PhD I recommend you buy one pronto—Mr. Del Conte lacks the alliterative ring)
Doc,
I come in peace. The white flag I wave flashes only the slightest daubs of lavender.
In fairness, I must admit from the outset that last week I had no idea what a Del Conte was. When your name was casually mentioned by a mutual friend, I assumed a Del Conte to be a count’s cape, or perhaps a costume a la commedia dell’arte. It was only when applying myself to the rather strenuous process of researching the various speculations to account for Coach Patterson’s (whom I shall hereby label, succinctly, The Legend) sudden defection—not to be confused for defecation—to UT, the dark side, that I learned who the great Chris Del Conte was/is, and let me say, with a mixture of admiration and envy (ad-envy, I suppose), that if you are one-eighth as successful at seducing the ladies as you are athletic talent, you could rival Casanova—and he was probably lying.
Anyhow, after scribing a gentle epistle to the Legend, I learned by way of our mutual friend that, despite my taking various swipes at your place of employment, you appreciated the spirit, if not the law, of the letter. There are some people who rather than taking a joke would prefer to be one—I’m looking at you, social media commentators!—and I, personally, prefer the company of the former.
So recognizing you possess a sense of humor and fine literary taste—I am willing to attribute your deficiency in visual aesthetics to color blindness or blind loyalty, perhaps both—it seems to me we might share common interests, and, as such, it behooves me, I feel, to play TCU’s Pope Leo to your Attila.
Dr. Del Conte,
Though it goes without saying we in Frogdom despise UT, it equally goes without saying that we despise the entire SEC—just ask the Barry Lewis or the Ryann Zeller, fearless leader. The SEC is now your problem, as you are now theirs, so it seems a mutually beneficial solution might lie in an exclusive equation. It is therefore fitting that I propose to your consideration what I call the Trojan solution. The strategy is simple: steal every head coach, assistant coach, player, referee (or, as I lovingly refer to them, the pinstriped pinheads), offensive/defensive coordinator you can find from any program you can. Spare no one. No trainer, no mascot, not even the band directors should be left unbothered, their doors unmolested.
As a first target, I propose you solicit the services of Nick Saban. I don’t know much about him, but he seems pretty good, and he evidently works for Alabama. Whether Dr. Saban is a good coach or no, I can’t say for certain. But I am certain of this: we despise Alabama, and they have him. Therefore, Dr. Del Conte, as I’m sure you agree, Nick Saban must go to UT.
Between Georgia, Ole Miss, Auburn, A & M, etc., you have a veritable smorgasbord of talent to choose from.
How did I devise this ingenious scheme? The initial thrust of inspiration occurred when I was reading a similar, more confrontational, epistle penned by the Barry Lewis. It was he, dear man, who mentioned you had effectively brought the Red Raiders to their teary knees by absconding with one of their basketball coaches—I don’t know his name. Let’s just say, I’m not sure Lubbock has recovered.
And to judge from a text I've received from the Barry Lewis himself, they haven't. Evidently, tonight, this particular coach, whoever he is, will be making his first appearance back in Lubbock since his professional infidelity. How is Tech responding? Well, the students are so desirous of the opportunity of sharing some few words with the man that they've been camping out for days. They've established a GoFundMe page that has raised more than $10,000 so they can eat, all for the privilege of being the first to spit the contents of their meals back up on the poor coach's face.
Let the dear readers of the SEC consider this a preview of coming attractions!
What are the desired effects of this mighty gambit, this Trojan solution? One, that you share the love, so the entire SEC despises UT as much as the Big 12 does, and they rue the day they allowed a horned stampede into their conference. Two, that Texas so decimate, so dominate their new conference, no relatively reasonable official anywhere will elect any SEC team to any bowl game, whatsoever, for a minimum of six decades. Three, that UT enjoy the spoils of their diabolical conquests with as much relish as they have those of the Southwest Conference and the Big 12.
Dr. Del Conte, it is apparent to me that you possess the talent and skills necessary effectively to pillage the entirety of that detestable conference, and I cannot imagine you fail to see the wisdom of this directive.
If you require any clarification on these matters, or tactical advice to complement the larger strategy, allow me to recommend the services of any of our KillerFrog scribes (the Nick Howard, the Barry Lewis, the Brett Gibbons, the David Tucker, the Adam Shirley, the Ryan Zeller, fearless leader). Each member of that honorable cast can boast the slight benefit of knowing what the hell they’re talking about.
Having said that, if you must, you can catch me imbibing spirits at Ye Olde Bull and Bush on Montgomery 76107--but, please, no direct correspondence; all mail will be summarily returned.
Anyway, I hope that we can initiate the Trojan solution ASAP. May it bear fruit soon!
Sincerely,
T.
PS., Rema says hi.
PPS., While despoiling every school east of Texas, you may want to invest in a change of uniform. Bronze, for instance.
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