The first time I met Scot Loeffler, the evening after last April’s spring game, he looked tense.
It was at an event at the Holiday Inn that we do every year to benefit Bud Foster’s Lunch Pail Defense Foundation. Bud brings a few coaches with him, plus some former players, and we sit on a stage in front of a crowd of about a hundred people and do a Q&A session. I take care of the Q’s, and the coaches and players take care of the A’s. I do my best to make the coaches and players look good, which isn’t a hard job, because they’re funny, interesting people. Kam Chancellor and Eddie Whitley are the hidden gems; everybody knows David Wilson’s funny, but Kam has a very dry wit; and Eddie’s a good storyteller. But I digress.
Why do I get this admittedly cool job? Because I work a lot cheaper than Bill Roth. But again, I digress.
This past April, Bud brought Scot Loeffler with him, and Bud introduced us before hand. Scot shook my hand and nodded, and yes, he looked like a guy who wanted to be somewhere else. Like in the film room.
At that point in time, a couple months after arriving at Tech, Loeffler’s family hadn’t yet moved to Blacksburg, so he was on his own. He was reportedly sleeping on a couch in his office and watching a lot of film, till the wee hours of the morning, a habit of his ever since he started coaching. Over the course of those couple months, watching all that film and then coaching the offense through spring practice, the enormity of the job before him was probably sinking in.
Bud left us alone for a minute or two. Don’t ask him about the offense or the spring game, I thought. Just make small talk. We chit-chatted, and I must have said something that triggered him, because his eyes...
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