At a Division I-AA college football practice facility in the middle of nowhere approximately 300 high school football players are loosening up on the practice turf and running drills. The players run the gamut from Sophomores to Seniors, all hoping to be noticed by the scouts and given those covetted "stars" by their names on the recruiting websites. And all of them (or their parents/family/"sponsors"/family friends/advisers) have paid through the nose for them to attend the UnderNike Rebdidas Life Skizzils Battan Death March for Life and Character Elite Camp 2010.
It's a select group, in that the people running the camp only selected the kids who paid the entrance fee. In return, the kids get children's size small t-shirts that read "UnderNike Rebdidas Life Skizzils Battan Death March for Life and Character Elite Camp 2010" across the chest and back, as well as the right to run around like trained chipmunks for the assembled college and media scouts.
We join the fun already in progress./
Coach: Number 27, GO!
No. 27: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA /runs through ladder drill/
Coach: Number 28, GO!
No. 28: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA *THUMP* /runs most of the way through ladder drill before face planting, blood spurts from No. 28's now broken nose./
Coach: Rub some dirt on it No. 28. Number 29, GO!
No. 29: AAAAAAAAAAA *CRUNCH* AAAAAAAAAAAAA /runs through ladder drill, while stepping on No. 28's face/
No. 28: Mother of GOD!!! The pain!
Coach: Suck it up pansy. No. 12, pull No. 28 over to the training table where they can give him some vagisil. No. 30, GO!
/Across the field, in the aluminium stands, three dozen scouts, media types, college coaches, and really creepy recruiting types sit and observe. Some furiously scribbling notes, others watching intently, and one guy in a raincoat that no one is sure who he is or how he got into the building. Before them they see 300 high school football players running the shuttle, the 40 yard dash, jumping through flaming hoops, wrestling alligators, and doing the vertical jump. All of these skills are critical for a NCAA DIVISION ONE FOOTBAW PLAYA, and must be measured to accurately predict their potential.
To the left of stands, there is a door leading to the "interview room" where recruits are questioned about their studies, times, work outs, etc.../
Announcer: No. 213 please report to the interview room.
/No. 213 stops wrestling the albino tiger trap and sprints over to the interview room/
/knock, knock, knock/
Voice Inside: Come in No. 213
/door opens, room is pitch black, No. 213 walks inside/
No. 213: AHHHHH GOD!
/a blinding light shines right in No. 213's eyes from a hand held 50,000 candela spot light/
No. 213: GOD It's burning my face!
Some Amalgam of Tom Lugibill/Tom Lemming/Mike Farrell stands holding the light: Relax No. 213. This is standard protocol. Have a seat.
/No. 213 fumbles blindly for the chair in front of him, eventually managing to sit down/
No. 213: Danzir McGonegy, sir.
Farluginmingbill: Danzig? Like the band?
No. 213:No. Dan - Zir. Danzir.
Farluginmingbill: Panzer, like the tank?
No. 213: No. DANZIR. DAN. ZIR. Danzir.
Farluginmingbill: Whatever, we'll just call you Johnny. Alright Johnny, what was your forty time?
No. 213: 4.5
No 213: Cornerback
No. 213: Did 12 of them, sir.
No. 213: 185.
No. 213: 6'1"... /shielding eyes from light with his hand/ Hey wait! Are you even wearing pants?
Farluginmingbill: Of Course I am! /totally isn't/ What kind of question is that!? That'll cost you a star kid!
No. 213: /obivious scared/ No sir. I was just kidding. Really!
Farluginmingbill: Alright No. 213, you just watch yourself. Inseam?
No. 213: ummm... 32, sir.
Farluginmingbill: Favorite color?
No. 213: Red.
Farluginmingbill: Favorite movie about Gladiators?
No. 213: uhhh... Gladiator?
Farluginmingbill: /mutters under breath/ That's what they all say...
No. 213: 34. What does this have to do with football exactly?
Farluginmingbill: SILENCE! I'll tell you what it has to do with Football! ACT score?
No. 213: 20.
Farluginmingbill: Alright, you're done.
No. 213: Wait, what does all that other stuff have to do...
Farluginmingbill: I SAID YOU'RE DONE!
/No. 213 leaves the room/
Farluginmingbill: More fodder for the furnace, eh guys?
/all of a sudden ten other Farluginmingbills appear in the background. None of which are wearing pants/
/Outside No. 213 returns to his drills/
No 139: How'd it go in there man?
No. 213: They asked me a lot of weird questions and I'm pretty sure the questioner wasn't wearing pants.
No. 139: So, the usual, huh?
No. 213: Yeah. Still... it wasn't as awkward Michigan State's camp. (ZING!)