Tuesday, March 17, 2015

The 2015 Patsy Ratings - Holy Cross' Class of 2019

Art looked over the numbers.

"Are you sure," he asked the raven-haired businesswoman that looked uncannily like Nicki Minaj, "that we should mention this?"

"Legally, it would probably be the best thing."

"OK, then, let me read it and see what you think," silver-haired Art said.

"The Patsy Ratings are for entertainment purposes only.  Anyone who would read too far into to these would be foolish.  It's also not an indicator of any individual recruits' worth.  Many big Patsy Point recruits don't amount to a hill of Fava beans in the League, and other guys who didn't generate a single Patsy Point came out of nowhere to make all-Patriot League.

"And that's not to mention that in the Patriot League, it's really all about the diploma over everything else.  Football gives you the opportunity to go to one of the best schools in the nation and compete against the best in Division I, FCS.  If you made it this far, you're one of an elite group of kids, with an opportunity some only dream of.  It's up to you what you make of that opportunity."

"Your victory is right around the corner. Never give up," she said.

Art looked at her quizzically.

"I mean, add that at the end there," she said.  "That really makes it sound much better."

Monday, March 16, 2015

The 2015 Patsy Ratings - Ranking the Recruiting Classes of the Patriot League

The knock on the door of the Committee's fortieth floor offices came in early February.

Coming to the door was a short, silver-haired man named Art, holding a vacuum cleaner in one hand and tape of Bucknell's thrilling win over Kansas in the NCAA men's basketball tournament in the other.  Even though he had been working for about an hour, it looked like he actually was sleeping in the office.

"Yes?" he said to the raven-haired office person who looked uncannily like Nicki Minaj.

"I got all of the numbers," she said, "all of them this time.  No calling me back for weeks waiting for Georgetown to get them all in.  They're all here.  Linebackers, kickers, wideouts.  All the names are here.  So you can get to work right now on all of this."

"You must be mistaken, Nicki.. I mean, lady," Art said.  "I'm just the guy who sweeps up in the Committee's offices.  I haven't seen any of the Committee members since they were on that three-week bender in the Bronx and then went boozing and skiing in the Granite State.  I think they still may still be up there."

"Just get to work in it," she said, her straight, long black hair waving a little as she dropped the paperwork on the desk that still smelled like Courvoisier.

It was then Art realized how much trouble he was in.

Somewhere, a dog barked.

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