As the man signed his name to ratify the contract for Head Basketball Coach (and to sit in the gym on his phone while the kids played Knockout for five 50-minute “PE classes” per week), he lacked the perspective, intelligence, and sobriety to appreciate what he was undertaking. Anthony Soprano Jr. [or “A.J.,” as he, like many fine minds, was dubbed (see also: B.J., C.J., D.J., and E.J.,)] had been hired after a family member made a sizable donation to “improve his candidacy.”
Caldwell College actually began as a woman’s university, which made it wonderfully appropriate that most of its alumnae were in the truest sense “Cougars.”
But, as is often the case with men’s athletics, Caldwell’s rich history of athletic young women did little for the prospects of the male basketball team, and the Caldwell Cougars had amassed a delightful streak of ineptitude: not only had the team not won a National Tournament game in its 125 seasons of existence, it also had never even won the conference tournament in those 125 seasons, which was something of a mathematical phenomenon, at minimum, and nearly incomprehensible, at median.
It was currently 3:22 Eastern Time, and A.J. had not realized that recruiting had begun. In fact, he now had a little over 7 hours to scour the recruit pool to see if he could salvage a body or two. The Caldwell coach gasped, took two THC gummies and 3 Adderall, and texted his father:
“Not good hear. Team is bad. Don’t no y u got me this job, and I Sure as **** don’t no y u called it well”