I mean, of course he is. If this coaching staff had anyone left in their corner at all after treating a reeling, gutted fanbase to a full quarter of Jonathan Crompton, I'd love to hear from them.
So, here we go. It's time; there's absolutely no arguing that, but for a city and a team threatened by the remotest hint of change the balance of the season looms dark and our natural pessimism has finally found purchase. Even with both feet in the FIRE HIS ASS YESTERDAY camp, I was never going to be entirely comfortable when this day came. He's the coach of my childhood, the devil I know. Six weeks ago, I wrote, "Itís our time at the edge, and the stay will be neither brief nor pleasant." I had no idea.
But if there's anything to celebrate here with complete joyful abandon (for me, campers, for me), it's that Chris Low scooped the living hell out of the Knoxville News-Sentinel, a terrible paper with a simpering buffoon of a sports editor in John Adams. Save your preening, sir---you've had a public, exhausting vendetta against the guy for years and today you got beat. ABIGAIL Adams would've had that story first, and that bitch has been dead almost 200 years.