Bobby Johnson, you complete nancy. RETIRING? What? "To spend time with family?" That's why I left college football. "Family?" Please. If I wanted company i'd keep rabbits. They're cute, require very little care, and in the winter you can swing them against barn, pull their skin off, and have a grad assistant sell the fur to gypsies while another makes soup out of it. Sean Payton used to do it for me.
Now that's a man who can bully a gypsy.
My first question in interviews? "Do you know your son's name?" This is a test of commitment. If they say yes, the second is "Can you pick him out of a lineup?" This is a test of honesty. If the answer is yes, then I unveil a lineup of random children seized from bus stops, and ask them to pick out their son or daughter. If they pick one, I then have that child caged and shipped to Charlie Weis as food. You can't underestimate the importance of commitment and honesty in choosing coaches, or the ease of kidnapping children these days. Far too trusting.
You said "Some people will coach with one foot in the coffin." Damn right I will. I sleep in one, but strictly for practical purposes. Statistically I'm far more likely to die in my sleep, so sleeping in a coffin just makes sense to ensure my staff can wheel me out, appoint a successor, and then continue on without me. This is the NFL: we make plans for these kind of things, unlike you willy-nilly libertines just scheduling press conferences whenever you want and un-retiring once someone gives you a good night's sleep, a blow job, and some Prilosec OTC.
You should have done what I did: drop your family off at a gas station, tell them to go inside and get beverages, and then peel out and never return a phone call ever again.
You clearly don't hate football and life enough to succeed, and good riddance to you.
P.S. I cut seven injured veterans in the course of this email. What have YOU done today?