“All right, men, this is our last chance.” Coach chewed on his cigar and paced. “We will push through German lines and hold until reinforcements arrive.”
“Can’t we just call in air support, sir?”
“Treaty of Pittsburgh forbade it, son, you ought to know that. We’re on our own until the third quarter. You, Thompson! Your squad will bypass the cheerleaders here,” Coach sketched on the whiteboard, “and circle around. Watch for that machine-gun nest on the twenty-yard line. We’ll gain the high ground and, by God, we’ll hold it!” Coach’s eyes gleamed. “This, gentlemen, is how football is won!”
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment