Coach
By Richard Linde

Babs smites Lambo,
Leaving him in limbo;
For luring a suitor,
They call her a bimbo.

He comes to the Dawgs,
Barely a man,
His largess so bountiful,
The media do pan.

In a quiet period,
His bible unpacked;
When he returns,
He’s almost sacked.

In a shoot around,
No tryout he pleads;
Later he’s cited,
For a tryout indeed.

Calling on kids,
To wish them well;
No attempt to lure,
Barney gives him hell.

Back in Boulder,
Said a pornographer;
In walks Barton,
And a photographer.

The photo inspires,
A maelstrom to be;
The Buffs rejoice,
With pleasure and glee.

Off bumping in May,
Says hello with a smile;
When he returns,
A report’s on file.

In foreboding darkness,
Does flash a light;
And the mafia,
Do wield their might.

To a quiet peer,
Talking too boldly;
Back in Boulder,
Rebuffed so coldly.

To warm-weather kids,
Lent cold-weather gear;
Back in Boulder,
‘Tis coldness they fear;

He soars from above,
In one Bill used;
With feet firmly planted,
So wrongly accused.

The witch-hunt concludes,
The facts are in;
He’s found guilty,
Of many a sin.

Cited by committee,
Without any pity;
He’s not contrite,
Just too pithy.

He hoses off Walker,
Recruitin’ underway;
While down south,
Bob walks with pay.

Planted on 'Tron,
In pukey pose;
By roiling Ducks,
Who make me dose.

Hamlet from above,
Calls him a schmoozer;
As it turns out,
Mike is the loser.

He’s caught on phone,
Talking about a job;
When he returns,
He’s reluctant to fob.

They call him a liar,
The trendy P-I;
Their eavesdropper,
Like a P-I.

He fobs ‘bout the Niners,
To protect an agreement;
Then he’s doused,
In wordy excrement.

At C-Dub’s memorial,
He had this to say,
“C-Dub said,
‘All I want to do is play.’”

He’s a player’s coach,
That much they bray;
I would not have him,
Any other way.

I end this verse,
No fear of reprisal;
For he’s our coach,
Richard Neuheisel.

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For clarification, read "The Neuheisel Chronicles."