The Kragthorpe Diaries I


Oh. Shit.

I am so completely fucked. Utterly, totally, didn’t have the courtesy of a reach-around fucked.

It all looked so rosy. Top 10 program. Orange Bowl champion. How could I screw this up? I couldn’t. No way. I single-handedly turned Tulsa around. Tulsa for fuck’s sake. You think anyone wants to go to Tulsa? Shit no. But there I was, winning games and making Steve Kragthorpe a household name.

Everybody wanted a piece of The Krag. Programs wanted me. Schools across the country were throwing money at me. Taking me to expensive restaurants. Showering me with gifts. Setting me up with hot ass ladies. Sure I’m married, but not when I’m on the road. On the road, The Krag has to get him some split-tail, you know what I’m saying? As long as that shit stays on the DL, The Krag is all good.

Man, was I having a good time. Especially in Louisville. Remember this story? You should’ve seen the red-carpet they rolled out for me. A box at Churchill. Dinner at the Penndennis Club. That shit was off the hook. I didn’t see a minority the entire day. That’s how it was in Montana and that’s just how The Krag likes it.

That was 9 months ago. Today? It’s like someone took a dump on my chest. What the fuck? I won a Liberty Bowl, I don’t deserve this shit.

How the hell did we lose to Kentucky? Good lord, Kentucky. Who’s even their head coach? Is it Saul Smith? I don’t have a clue.

I have no idea how it went wrong, either. What’d you say? We need to play defense? Fuck that. Have you seen our offense? It’s sick. It’s like the 2000 Rams in Madden. I used to play in my office on my old Dreamcast. I owned that game. Brian Brohm is Kurt Warner, Anthony Allen is Marshall Faulk, Mario Urrutia is Torry Holt, Harry Douglas is Isaac Bruce, and some other white dude on our team is Ricky Proehl. Man, wasn’t Ricky Proehl sick?

I just don’t get it. With this offense, who would’ve thought we needed to play defense. Not me. And I’m the best coach in America. If I didn’t see it coming, no one could. Not even Knute fucking Rockne himself. And he was half the coach I am. Plus he’s dead, so he doesn’t know shit.

And don’t even get me started on Syracuse. Luckily I swallowed some Oxycontin at halftime so that game was a fucking blur.

All this shit is giving The Krag a headache. All I wanted to do was win a national championship. It shouldn’t be this hard. It wasn’t this hard when I was taking Tulsa to the Humanitarian Bowl. I mean, pulling decent ass in Boise was hard, but the football part was still easy.

This fucking blows. What the hell am I going to do? Ah, fuck it, I’m going down to the Magic Dragon for a rub and tug. Gotta get my mind off this shit.

4 Responses

  1. [...] #2: Previous, even less polished editions of The Kragthorpe Diaries can be found here and [...]

  2. [...] Note #2: Previous, even less polished editions of The Kragthorpe Diaries can be found here, here, and here. [...]

  3. [...] even I couldn’t jokingly fathom something like this. I mean, I tried, but I was still somewhat confident that Kragthorpe would get things turned [...]

  4. [...] January 14, 2009 by Charley West Note: This was the first installment of The Kragthorpe Diaries, originally “printed” September 26, 2007 — long before anyone started reading this site. ┬áSince then, Kragthorpe has lost to Syracuse [...]

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