Friday, September 26, 2008
SCENE: A remote dusty crossroads somewhere in the Southwestern United States. A MAN IN BLACK stands stoically at its center. MIKE RILEY enters stage right.
SATAN: Michael. I've heard your cries of anguish in the night. You've come to the right place.
RILEY: Where are we?
SATAN: This is where all the greatest blues musicians have come to trade their souls in exchange for musical prowess.
RILEY: Blues? I'm from Idaho. I coach football.
SATAN: Oh, my faithless son, you think this place has no power over football? How do you think Elway went 14 seasons without a Super Bowl win and suddenly wins two back-to-back despite the body of a 62-year-old Parkinson's victim?
SATAN: Have you heard from Elway in the last ten years? Has anyone?
RILEY: Hey, wait a minute...
SATAN: Haven't you noticed that one of the "greatest quarterbacks of all time" doesn't even do Nutrisystem commercials? He's down here now. I let him go to Disneyworld first.
RILEY: Okay, I'm sold.
SATAN: Now, what is it you desire?
RILEY: I want Oregon State to be the best team in the country year in and year out.
SATAN produces a small TV remote control.
SATAN: Ooh...the whole team? How about your running back Jamiroquai?
RILEY: No, no, he's good enough as is. I want team success.
SATAN: It's just, aha, you know, these things, gosh, it's not really good with big targets. It's more for individual use. Most people who come to me are pretty selfish.
RILEY: Just do it.
Three years pass. The date is October 3rd. RILEY's Oregon State Beavers have just lost to Utah, 68-3. The screen fades into the same dusty crossroads. RILEY paces furiously in front of SATAN.
RILEY: What is this shit?!
SATAN: Hey, bro, I told you this thing was inaccurate. But chill yourself, hood rich, I figured out what the deal be.
RILEY: What? Stop talking like that.
SATAN: I can't quit this thang. I used it on myself. I just wanted to be cool.
RILEY: Whatever. What did you do to my team?
SATAN: Peep this. What happened was it made you totally mediocre, except you're completely invincible against USC at home.
RILEY: That's it.
SATAN: That's it, baby.
RILEY: That's bullshit! That's not even close to what I wanted!
SATAN: Hey, slim, cool it. You're the greatest gimmick coach in America! You can't beat anyone...except the best team in the country! You're totally unique!
RILEY: No I'm not! Harbaugh does exactly the same thing!
HARBAUGH enters stage left Road Runner-style, his legs moving in an indeterminate vortex below the waist.
HARBAUGH: HOW DARE YOU ASSHOLE! I AM NUMBER FUCKING ONE! THE FARM! WASH YOUR HANDS!
RILEY: What are you doing here?
HARBAUGH: THIS PRICK OWES ME MONEY! PAY UP, SCUMBAG!
SATAN: Hey, baby, cool it. I'll have it in three days. That's a big tab, you dig? I can't just snap my fingers and make it so. You know how it is.
HARBAUGH produces an Israeli anti-tank RPG and fires it point-blank at SATAN's head. SATAN explodes and dies. HARBAUGH sprints away.
HARBAUGH: GO BEARS! ANN ARBOR WILL BURN IN THE FIRES OF ALLAH!