Mora: Five thousand HHBers are out there in the freezing mud. Three thousand of them are depressed and sullen. Two thousand are old and will never witness another Rose Bowl. I will not believe that they donated and supported for nothing.
Woodward: And what would you believe?
Mora: They believe in you and in Husky Football.
Woodward: And what is Husky Football, Jim?
Mora: I've seen much of the rest of the world. It is brutal and cruel and dark, Husky Football is the light.
Woodward: Yet you have not been there since the days of DJ. You have not seen what it has become. I am dying, Jim. When a man sees his end... he wants to know there was some purpose to his life. How will the world speak my name in years to come? Will I be known as the stadium builder? The poolboy? The doog...? Or will I be the AD who gave Husky football back her true self? There was once a rosy dream that was Husky football. You could only whisper it. Anything more than a whisper and it would vanish... it was so fragile. And I fear that it will not survive the winter.
Mora: What will you have me do, Caesar Woodward?
Woodward: I want you to become the protector of Husky football after I die. I will empower you, to one end alone, to bring power football and Rose Bowls back to the people of UW and end the doog corruption that has crippled it. [Shock and bewilderment overcome Mora. He tries to keep from displaying these feelings. Hearing no response, Woodward continues.] Will you accept this great honour that I have offered?
Mora: With all my heart, no.
Woodward: [Tenderly holding Mora's' head with both hands]: Jim, that is why it must be you.
Mora: But surely a Wilcox, a Nussmeier, somebody who knows the school, who understands her current politics....
Woodward: But you have not been corrupted by her politics.
Mora: And Sarkisian?
Woodward: Sarkisian is not a moral man, you have known that since you were young. Sarkisian cannot coach. He must not coach. You are the coach that I should have had. Sarkisian will accept my decision. He knows that you command the loyalty of the HHBers.
Mora [Nearly speechless]: I need some time, Sire.
Woodward: Yes. By sunset, I hope, you will have agreed. Now embrace me as my Husky son and bring an old man another blanket.
Comments
Woodward: And what would you believe?
Mora: They believe in you and in Husky Football.
Woodward: And what is Husky Football, Jim?
Mora: I've seen much of the rest of the world. It is brutal and cruel and dark, Husky Football is the light.
Woodward: Yet you have not been there since the days of DJ. You have not seen what it has become. I am dying, Jim. When a man sees his end... he wants to know there was some purpose to his life. How will the world speak my name in years to come? Will I be known as the stadium builder? The poolboy? The doog...? Or will I be the AD who gave Husky football back her true self? There was once a rosy dream that was Husky football. You could only whisper it. Anything more than a whisper and it would vanish... it was so fragile. And I fear that it will not survive the winter.
Mora: What will you have me do, Caesar Woodward?
Woodward: I want you to become the protector of Husky football after I die. I will empower you, to one end alone, to bring power football and Rose Bowls back to the people of UW and end the doog corruption that has crippled it. [Shock and bewilderment overcome Mora. He tries to keep from displaying these feelings. Hearing no response, Woodward continues.] Will you accept this great honour that I have offered?
Mora: With all my heart, no.
Woodward: [Tenderly holding Mora's' head with both hands]: Jim, that is why it must be you.
Mora: But surely a Wilcox, a Nussmeier, somebody who knows the school, who understands her current politics....
Woodward: But you have not been corrupted by her politics.
Mora: And Sarkisian?
Woodward: Sarkisian is not a moral man, you have known that since you were young. Sarkisian cannot coach. He must not coach. You are the coach that I should have had. Sarkisian will accept my decision. He knows that you command the loyalty of the HHBers.
Mora [Nearly speechless]: I need some time, Sire.
Woodward: Yes. By sunset, I hope, you will have agreed. Now embrace me as my Husky son and bring an old man another blanket.
>It made me feel like "one of the guise"
>I'm drunk
>I had nothing better to do...
Just sayin....