Imagine you’re taking a college class. Something in literature, maybe covering literature during the Jazz Age. And you’re taking notes, listening to the professor, nodding intently. But every few minutes, one of your classmates speaks up, and he has something to say. The interruptions don’t bother you as much as his tone does. He speaks with an authority that matches the professor, which doesn’t fit because this kid is wearing a Bright Eyes shirt a size too small with Cheeto stains on it. But he continues to interject, and assert his knowledge, and basically tell everyone that he knows more about the subject than the professor.
You hate this guy, of course. Everyone does.
Now imagine you get your tests back that Friday. You’re looking at your score and you’re happy, but not too happy. You missed an easy question or two, and your handwriting looks like a doctor who suddenly became a zombie while writing. Then you look over and you see the interrupting classmate, the one who knows everything, and he’s hurrying to put away his test. But before he does, you see he got a 58 on it. A big fat F sitting on the page.
But then, next week, he’s back at it again. Still interjecting, still acting like he knows everything. And now his authoritative tone is even more annoying. How could some dude who talks so much, who is so cocky, who doesn’t let the professor talk — how could this guy be so bad at the subject? Shouldn’t he listen more if he’s that bad? Shouldn’t he shut up?
This story was somewhat about my college experience (fuck you Mark), but it’s mostly about Chip Kelly, the equivalent of an English major with cheeto stains on his Bright Eyes shirt.
Your favorite coach is Chip Kelly, and he sucks. Continue reading