This is a clip from a story I’m working on called “The Trojans”, a fictional story of a college football team, the Northern Oregon University Trojans, who have been the laughing joke of college football.  They just hired a hall of fame college and a all-pro (professionally) linebacker, Alexander “Chip” Jackson to help turn the program into a threat for the Championship.  As the year goes on, the team learns how to live up to their potential while surprise a few teams through they’re ups and downs.

Below is a clip in which newly appoint head coach Alexander Jackson is talking to the team for the first time:

Nightfall comes.  The players file into the stadium for the meeting. The coaching staff is already waiting for them.

The players, quiet as they enter, looking at their new coaching staff.  Five minutes before the seven o’clock start time Coach Jackson steps up.

He clears his voice.

“Welcome, as most of you know I’m…” he stops and looks to his left.

Three people are walking on up to the stadium, standing side by side to one another.  The one on the left; tall, muscular, nice tan going on.  The middle one; average height, big in the middle, lineman-size, white.  The one on the right is also of average height, toned, of darker toned of skin.

They walked up the steps; laughing, joking with no respect to what’s going on.  They walked up the steps and sat down still laughing and talking.

“Excuse me”

The three ingored him.

“Excuse me,” Coach Jackson said more sternly.

Nothing.

With a stern look on his face, coach Jackson walked on over, up the steps to where they were…and stop.

The three stop their conversation and looked up.  The team looking at the four.

“Yeah man?” asked the tannish looking one.

“I was just wondering why you guys showed up five minutes late to my meeting,”

“The e-mail said seven.”

“Yes, I said seven,” he said, now he raises his voice a little so the team can hear what he’s about to say, “but from this point on, meetings will start five minutes earlier than stated on the schedule.”

“Man that’s messed up, Coach Peabody didn’t…” said the tannish guy.

“Well I’m no Coach Peabody, but I hope I can be just like him to a point.” Coach Jackson started, “what’s your name?”

“Why?”

“Just curious.”

“I’m Joe.  I play quarterback.”

“I play quarterback sir,”

Joe made a acwkard clicking sound.

“Who said I’m calling you sir?  I’m not showing you respect.  Man you haven’t been here five minutes and you expect us to respect you, you haven’t proved yourself to us yet man.”

“I’m not asking for all of your respect Joe.  Just enough for the time being.”

“We’ll your not getting any from me you dumb motherf–”

The team gasp; next thing anyone knew, Joe was in the air with his feet dangling.

Coach Jackson is holding Joe up by the throat.

“Do you wish to finish that sentence?”

Joe, looking down, spits in the direction of Coach Jackson; hitting him on his cheek.

What happen next no one had ever expected a coach to do.

Coach had put him down on the ground, turns his head and cleans off the spit.  Joe had started to relax, thinking that he just won the fight.

Then Coach Jackson turns around, picks Joe up by the throat again and chokes slam Joe into the stands.

“Special thanks to the Undertaker,” said Coach Jackson.

The team, the coaches stood in awe.  Some gave a nervous laugh to Coach Jackson’s remark to the Undertaker.

“Had enough?” ask coach Jackson.

“Yes-s-s, sir,” said Joe, out of breath.

“What’s your last name Joe?”

“Douglas,”

“Well Joe Douglas, with what you just said, I see some leadership traits in you.  As of right now, you got my respect.”

The two guys next to him stood up and introduced themselves.

“Eric Robinson, I play left guard,” said the large white guy.

“Matthew Dickens, I play cornerback,” said the toned, black guy.