Don't Put Me In, Coach (20 page)

After my teammates restrained Noopy, I got dressed and had to laugh at how ridiculous it was that Noopy wanted to brawl because I didn’t have the patience to sit on a cramped and crowded bus for 20 minutes while he selfishly got baby back ribs. Even funnier was the fact that every other guy on the team felt the same way I did, so if Noopy was going to have a beef, it should’ve been with everyone else too. Anyway, I finished getting dressed, walked out of the locker room, went home, and to this day have still not spoken a single word to Noopy since the incident.

Two days later Noopy had transferred, and we all gathered in the locker room to reflect on his brief stint at Ohio State. I rather predictably bragged about how I was responsible for making him quit, which prompted a surprise reaction from some of my teammates. Much like how I was chastised by my teammates when The Villain lost his cool in a practice the year before (the practice where he tried to punch me because I asked him to throw me a bounce pass), some of my teammates criticized
me
for Noopy’s actions. They claimed that I “should have known better than to laugh” and that I “had to have known that he was going to snap.”

While that may be true, the fact of the matter is that if I actually did snitch, I also snitched on Will, yet he never once said anything to me about it and never had a problem with me (another example of why Will is my all-time favorite teammate), so clearly I wasn’t the problem and clearly the entire issue should’ve never gotten to the point where I even had the opportunity to laugh at Noopy for getting mad. Either way, this will go down as one of my favorite memories of my time at Ohio State, if for no other reason than it’s fun to reduce the whole ordeal to just “Noopy tried to fight me over baby back ribs from Applebee’s.”

Also, it is memorable for me because, as unbelievable as it may sound, this was only the first of three different times throughout that season that a teammate of mine instigated an altercation with
me while I was naked. You can read into that whatever you want, but as far as I’m concerned this trend is obvious proof that guys on the team would notice just how enormous my dong was as I got out of the shower and then would try to fight me because my massive man meat made them jealous and insecure.

TWENTY-SEVEN

A
fter losing Dave for the season shortly before the West Virginia beat-down, and then dealing with Noopy’s exodus from the team shortly thereafter, we were at a crisis point right as our first conference game was upon us. Luckily, we opened the Big Ten season against a pretty bad Iowa team at home. But Iowa was 10–3 coming into the game, and since they had beaten up on a bunch of cupcake teams for the first half of the season, they weren’t yet aware that they actually kinda sucked.

We controlled most of the first half and took an eight-point lead into halftime, but Iowa came storming back when the second half started and tied the game before the first media time-out. We responded with a mini-run of our own and briefly led by seven, but Iowa showed a ton of resilience and kept the game close the rest of the way. In the end, we squeaked out a three-point win that was one of those wins that could be interpreted as either “this is just what we needed to get back on track” or “there is serious cause for concern because we should have blown these guys out.” Judging from our results in the immediate future, it was the latter.

Following the close win against Iowa, we lost by nine at 21st-ranked Minnesota in what was certainly an unmemorable game. But even though the game wasn’t anything to write home about (and let’s be honest—with today’s technology, I don’t think anybody is writing home about anything anymore), the entire road trip itself was probably my favorite of my career. That’s because, thanks to a series of paranoid, mean-spirited, and just flat-out dumb events, I got stuck on an elevator with two of my teammates and our trainer for over an hour.

Since the blog post I originally wrote a few years ago about this incident seemed to be the consensus favorite among people who followed my blog, I figure I’ll stick with the same retroactive diary format for the book that I used back then. And by that I mean that I have basically just copied and pasted the blog post into this book. But if you are one of the people who read the original that was posted in January 2009, don’t you worry—I did a good deal of editing, so really it’s not the same story but just resembles the original story and is now much better. (I guess this is the same thing the people behind Disney’s version of
Doug
thought too.)

Besides, even if it was the exact same, it won’t kill you to reread it. Unless, of course, you’re reading it again while driving a car or operating a flamethrower or something. Then you might be screwed.

Anyway, here’s how everything went down:

6:07 p.m
.—We return to the hotel from practice at Minnesota’s gym and are informed that we are watching film in 30 minutes. I make a mental note that this is more than enough time for me to pull a prank on The Villain. Ideas start flowing.

6:09 p.m
.—I get off the bus and make my way to the hotel lobby to wait for an elevator to take me up to my room. I’ve got my headphones on, and I’m listening to Alan Jackson’s “Livin’ on Love,” even though I have an intense scowl on my face that I’m hoping portrays to onlookers that I’m a badass who listens to heavy metal
or hard-core rap. The nerdy kid from
The Little Giants
would no doubt be impressed with this intimidation tactic.

6:12 p.m
.—An elevator finally arrives, and a group of about six players get on board, including Walter Offutt, Will Buford, and myself. I turn my music off because I don’t want my teammates to overhear my sappy country music and make fun of me. Will, however, leaves his music on and is listening to some rapper I have never heard of and bobs his body up and down. Apparently bobbing up and down is Will’s method of dancing along with his music, which I find particularly interesting considering he’s the same guy who always claimed that I was a terrible dancer. (Bobbing up and down versus copious hip thrusting and “suck it” crotch chops—you tell me which is the better form of dancing.) Will continues to dance, and Walter has a Don Vito moment as he gets so upset and starts yelling so quickly it’s difficult to understand what he’s actually trying to say.

As a guy with a history of paranoia and all sorts of phobias, Walter apparently isn’t too thrilled with Will making the elevator shake. He tries to get off the elevator, but a few of the other guys notice how worried he is and try to hold him back because tormenting Walter is their way of showing brotherly love. But Walter’s adrenaline kicks in, and he punches, scratches, and claws his way toward the elevator door. In his desperation to escape, he resembles a cornered animal or a girl being hit on by Ben Roethlisberger.

He eventually sticks his arm into the door frame of the elevator and prevents the door from closing, before finally walking off the elevator. I notice that even though he is off the elevator and free from danger, he is still visibly upset. I realize this is a perfect opportunity to exploit his weakened mental state, and I exit the elevator with him. This seems like a good time to mention that I have a video camera with me and plan on recording some good footage of Walter losing his mind.

6:15 p.m
.—The next elevator comes. Walter, Danny, our trainer Vince O’Brien, and I board. Danny pushes the button to take us to the 18th floor while Walter, still upset by the scare that Will gave him, silently hangs out in the corner of the elevator with a disgruntled look on his face. I go in for the kill.

6:16 p.m
.—I turn the video camera on and point it in Walter’s direction. “Walter, why were you so scared on that last elevator?” I ask, even though I know exactly why he was so scared.

“ ’Cause I can’t stand it when people be jumping on elevators!”

As predictable as Walter’s response was, though, it isn’t nearly as predictable as what happens next. As soon as Walter finishes talking and the doors to the elevator close, Danny says, “You mean like this, Walter?” as he launches himself into the air and stomps his feet when he lands, a lot like Diamond Dallas Page used to do when he’d walk out of the tunnel after being introduced, throw up his diamond hand signal thing, and then stomp on the ground as pyrotechnics exploded all around him. (On second thought, that makes Danny seem much more badass than he actually is, so forget I ever made the DDP comparison.)

Walter starts yelling at the top of his lungs. I am laughing hysterically and have the camera focused on Walter. I decide to join the fun and start bobbing my body a little bit (although it should be noted that my bobbing is nowhere near the intensity of Danny’s jumping). Vince also gets in on the action and bobs up and down even less than I am. Not long after Vince starts bobbing, Danny lands from one of his ill-advised jumps and the elevator starts shaking. The elevator then stops on what appears to be the ninth floor. The doors do not open. We are stuck.

6:17 p.m
.—To say that Walter is pissed when he realizes that we are stuck on the elevator and one of his biggest fears is suddenly a reality would be a bigger understatement than saying that the Indian kid with the “heart” ring on
Captain Planet
got an unfair deal when
those magical rings were distributed. He is now so insane that it honestly wouldn’t have been much of a surprise to me if he started dancing around in his grandma’s panties and rubbed himself in peanut butter.

Luckily, he yells mostly at Danny, but he also directs a little bit of his hatred toward me. Even though Walter’s anger has me genuinely fearing for my life, I can’t help but laugh because this particular outburst is by far the most intense (and therefore the most comical) of all of his outbursts from throughout the year. Making it that much better is the fact that I’m documenting the entire ordeal with my video camera.

6:18 p.m
.—I realize I forgot to hit the Record button on the camera. I am now almost as upset as Walter. I hit Record and hope to at least get some solid post-freak-out footage.

6:20 p.m
.—Walter is cooling down a little bit, but is still very upset. At this point he’s going with the silent angry approach, just like Othello did when we were on the plane coming back from Penn State and we hit that patch of turbulence. Danny is trying to justify the fact that he basically did a series of cannonballs in an elevator and suggests that it was the elevator’s fault for not being sturdy enough. He also tries to place equal parts of the blame on Vince and me.

Meanwhile, Vince is sitting down in one of the corners of the elevator and is surprisingly taking the situation well. To further screw with Walter, I decide to turn the camera on myself and do a
Blair Witch Project
parody by tilting my head back, zooming in on my nostrils, and pretending to be seriously concerned that we might not make it out of the elevator alive even though we’ve been trapped for four minutes. Walter isn’t amused.

6:22 p.m
.—We decide it would be a good idea to utilize the emergency phone in the elevator. Danny calls the front desk to the hotel and explains the situation. Danny leaves out the part about him
doing a swanton bomb onto the floor of the elevator. Probably a wise decision on his part.

6:25 p.m
.—I bring up the idea of cannibalism and ask for a volunteer to be the first to be eaten. No takers. Vince then declares that he has nutrition bars in his trainer bag. I think about the consequences of turning to cannibalism within 10 minutes of getting stuck in the elevator and decide it’s probably best to just eat a nutrition bar.

6:29 p.m
.—Walter pulls out his cell phone and calls somebody to discuss the situation. I ask him who he is talking to and he says his girlfriend. I respond with, “Is this the same one from last night?” loud enough for her to hear me. Walter flips out again and explains to his woman that it was just a joke.

6:34 p.m
.—I eyeball the top of the elevator and think about a possible escape by climbing out of the elevator and down the elevator shaft. Walter is still talking to his girlfriend explaining that I was only kidding about him being with another girl. Danny is texting various people on both his “work phone” and his “phone for the ladies.” Yes, you read that right—Danny has two cell phones and refers to one as a work phone (even though he’s a college basketball player and in no way has enough time for a real job) and the other as his phone for the girls he talks to. (More than anything else, that’s all you need to know about Danny.)

I approach Vince and ask him to tape my ankles for added support during the escape. Sure it might sound crazy to get my ankles taped, but I can’t help but think how badly it would suck if I somehow slipped during the escape, fell 90 feet down an elevator shaft, and tweaked my ankle as I landed at the bottom. Safety always comes first.

6:37 p.m
.—The film session is supposed to have started. I don’t feel quite as badly as I should that I’m missing it.

6:40 p.m.—
As I’m preparing to make my escape, I remember that the two most popular places in hotels for serial killers to stash their victims’ bodies are in the shower of the victim’s room or on the roof of an elevator à la Hannibal Lecter. I decide that the possibility of opening the hatch on the ceiling of the elevator and having a dead dude without a face fall down is too much of a risk for me to try it, especially considering I had priors and the cops would have surely thought I was somehow involved. I opt to wait it out instead.

6:42 p.m
.—I rewind the video I recorded and begin watching it to pass the time. Walter is still a little distraught, so he calls the front desk lady back on the emergency phone and makes small talk with her. He begins telling her stories about his basketball career that date all the way back to when he was in junior high. I find this conversation he is having worthy of recording on the video camera, so I stop the tape I am watching and begin recording Walter again.