Battle Red Onion - Sources? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Sources!
January 3, 2011
Above: Frank Bush Contemplates His Team's Defensive Effort...or a Sandwich. We're Not Really Sure.
The Houston Texans' regular season came to an unceremonious end yesterday with a sound thumping of the Jacksonville Glitter Kitties at Reliant Stadium. Though the home team was victorious it was a high, yet sour note on which to open an uncertain offseason. Between a blazing hot seat for Coach Gary Kubiak to a potentially long labor shortage in 2011, there are many questions looming on the Texans' horizon. The defensive coordinator position, though, is all but a foregone conclusion.
Seeing the writing on the wall, Frank Bush asked Coach Kubiak, who is expected to stay for a sixth season, if he could speak to the team one last time before his certain dismissal. Kubiak, being the loyal guy he is, approved his last request. The team was still in the locker room packing up when Kubiak called for their attention. "Okay kids, could I get your attention here?" The team turned toward Kubiak and his soon-to-be ex-defensive coordinator, "Glover, would you put away that Gameboy, please? Thank you. Gentlemen, Frank has some words he'd like to share with you. They're all yours, Frank."
The room grew silent, waiting in eager anticipation for Frank to speak. It turns out nobody had ever heard him speak. He mumbled his plays on the headset and said nothing in team meetings; for obvious reasons. "Guys, I wanted to take a minute to say I was darn proud of the effort you put out today, and all of the last season too. I know it's only a matter of time until you guys can put together several games of defensive excellence like last year." Kubiak sidled up next to Bush and whispered that this was, in fact, the end of the season. Bush gasped, "Really?! I need to cut down on the game-time naps. It doesn't matter. I know that someday soon you guys will finally understand the genius behind my defensive scheme; after all, it's so brilliant, even I don't fully comprehend it, hence the simplification.
"Honestly, I don't know why I'm getting the axe. I was trying to run a balanced game plan. When the offense decided to call it a day, we'd kick into gear, and vice versa. That's balanced, isn't it? But I don't blame you guys for it, you actually executed my scheme well; they just don't understand the genius of playing corners 10 yards away from the line of scrimmage. Apparently that kind of outside-the-box thinking will get you fired. But don't worry about me, guys. I'll be okay." Bush turned his head toward the doorway, "It will all turn out okay."
"What will you do, Coach?" asked a frantic Eugene Wilson, who feared now for his own job because only someone as clueless as Frank Bush would actually employ him. "Oh I'll be fine. I've already got a nice cushy sponsorship deal in the works with a company in Nashville. I'll be the official pitchman for Damfuul Home Protection and Security Services. Because my face, to them, screams safety and protection. They also have branches in Dallas, Indianapolis, Buffalo, and New Jersey. With that said, I wish you the best of luck next year."
He looked down at his watch, "Oh, it's almost time for Happy Hour, I need to get going. I'll see you guys around. He walked out to the team parking lot and got into his Hyundai, hundreds of yards away from the other cars in the lot and drove off into the sunset.
Outside the parking lot were masses of bloggers, stained with vanilla ice cream all over them, waiting to see Bush one last time. As his Hyundai drove out of view, they screamed jubilantly and, much like the Ewoks after the fall of the Galactic Empire, danced long into the night around an enormous bonfire. Copies of "Bush's Playbook," which were really Waffle House menus, tackling dummies in Frank Bush's likeness, hundreds of emptied boxes of vanilla ice cream, ice cream cone boxes, and rice cakes were used as fuel for the blaze in front of two enormous makeshife idols of Durga and Jobu.
Frank, on behalf of the Onion staff, you will be missed.