CHAPTER 2
JUST A SMALL TOWN BOY
JUST A SMALL TOWN BOY
The bus ride took 12 days (3 breakdowns, 4 flat tires, and 1 FBI seizure of the bus due to the fact that the driver was part of a drug sting), but to me it felt like 12 minutes. Stepping off the bus, I realized that I was in a foreign land. Santa Monica was full of girls in bikinis, college students, and hairy, sweaty, homeless men. Clearly I was a long way from home.
Having very little money to my name, and not knowing anything about where I was, I took the first apartment I could get. The place was filthy and I had 4 roommates (it was a modest 1 bedroom), but I knew that soon enough, making the money Ryan Djernes was sure to offer me, I'd be living in the lap of luxury. I considered myself lucky, several of my roommates happened to know the bus driver who had driven me out to Santa Monica. I was amongst friends. Unfortunately, what few possessions I did have seemed to be disappearing quickly. My roommates told me that Santa Monica was a high crime neighborhood and to be more careful with my stuff.
Within a week of arriving, it was time to meet with the Godfather himself, Mr. Ryan Djernes. For years I had heard comparisons between him, Al Davis, and Donald Sterling, so I knew that he was one of the greatest owners in the history of sports. When I first walked into his office, he had no recollection of ever calling me, and there were boxes and boxes of Purina Puppy Chow scattered all over the office.
With a franchise record of 13-23, it was understandable that he forgot. A man who's experienced that kind of success can't be expected to remember everything. I was just honored to be in the same room with the guy (even though it reeked of dog food). He explained that Purina was a side project of his and that nothing would ever come between him and his beloved J's.
He got right down to business and offered me a 1 year contract for five dollars a game and explained that all contracts were on a per-game basis because no one had ever coached for him for more than a year (the fault was always with the coaches, not ownership or the players themselves). I quickly did the math in my head and realized that this salary would be enough to live at my apartment for 3 years (thanks to Santa Monica Rent Control policies).
After signing in blood, another of Mr. Djernes' rules, he quickly explained the ground rules about how to treat his players. He told me, "Now I know you're just a small town boy, but this is the big leagues now. We average anywhere from 1 to 2 fans a night, and it can get pretty loud out there. Don't let the crowd get in your head. Follow your instincts, unless you disagree with me, then follow my instincts instead."
This all seemed simple enough. He then handed me the official roster, with a short note on each of the players. He said he knew his players better than anyone else and to always look to this sheet to be reminded of their personalities. I've never shared this with anyone, but have published it below:
Sean Djernes - Lack of Competitive Drive, Passive Aggressive
Michael J. Reiss - Me First Attitude, Should NEVER Win the Coach's Award
Lee Rosen - Steroid Addiction, Gambling Problem
Jon Aronson - Prostitution Addiction, Unnatural Love for Short Shorts
Darren Quinn - Dirty Texting Addiction, Unnatural Love for Dirty Texts
Brett Spaulding - Jersey Burner, Unnatural Love for Paul Farinacci, Jr.
Clint Jackson - Prostitution Addiction, Charged with Several Petifile Crimes
Eric Snow - Great Hustler, Serious Drinking Problem
Kevin Quinn - Sweet Lefty Stroke, Unnatural Love for Asian Women
Paul Farinacci, Jr. - Drinking Problem, Gambling Problem, Injury Prone
Jason Lepore - Pussy, Lucky If He Makes Through One Year Working for Me
I couldn't figure out why he left my name on the list, but I'm pretty sure it was simply a motivational tool. My one concern was with Paul Farinacci, a player who I knew was immensely talented but had the reputation of being cancerous in the clubhouse. As the team's former manager, I was reluctant to keep him on the squad for fear of dividing the clubhouse. Mr. Djernes told me, "He is a great player. Get over it."
Oh well, I though, may as well make the best of it. So I walked out of his office energized, ready to take the J's to a new level of success.
Having very little money to my name, and not knowing anything about where I was, I took the first apartment I could get. The place was filthy and I had 4 roommates (it was a modest 1 bedroom), but I knew that soon enough, making the money Ryan Djernes was sure to offer me, I'd be living in the lap of luxury. I considered myself lucky, several of my roommates happened to know the bus driver who had driven me out to Santa Monica. I was amongst friends. Unfortunately, what few possessions I did have seemed to be disappearing quickly. My roommates told me that Santa Monica was a high crime neighborhood and to be more careful with my stuff.
Within a week of arriving, it was time to meet with the Godfather himself, Mr. Ryan Djernes. For years I had heard comparisons between him, Al Davis, and Donald Sterling, so I knew that he was one of the greatest owners in the history of sports. When I first walked into his office, he had no recollection of ever calling me, and there were boxes and boxes of Purina Puppy Chow scattered all over the office.
With a franchise record of 13-23, it was understandable that he forgot. A man who's experienced that kind of success can't be expected to remember everything. I was just honored to be in the same room with the guy (even though it reeked of dog food). He explained that Purina was a side project of his and that nothing would ever come between him and his beloved J's.
He got right down to business and offered me a 1 year contract for five dollars a game and explained that all contracts were on a per-game basis because no one had ever coached for him for more than a year (the fault was always with the coaches, not ownership or the players themselves). I quickly did the math in my head and realized that this salary would be enough to live at my apartment for 3 years (thanks to Santa Monica Rent Control policies).
After signing in blood, another of Mr. Djernes' rules, he quickly explained the ground rules about how to treat his players. He told me, "Now I know you're just a small town boy, but this is the big leagues now. We average anywhere from 1 to 2 fans a night, and it can get pretty loud out there. Don't let the crowd get in your head. Follow your instincts, unless you disagree with me, then follow my instincts instead."
This all seemed simple enough. He then handed me the official roster, with a short note on each of the players. He said he knew his players better than anyone else and to always look to this sheet to be reminded of their personalities. I've never shared this with anyone, but have published it below:
Sean Djernes - Lack of Competitive Drive, Passive Aggressive
Michael J. Reiss - Me First Attitude, Should NEVER Win the Coach's Award
Lee Rosen - Steroid Addiction, Gambling Problem
Jon Aronson - Prostitution Addiction, Unnatural Love for Short Shorts
Darren Quinn - Dirty Texting Addiction, Unnatural Love for Dirty Texts
Brett Spaulding - Jersey Burner, Unnatural Love for Paul Farinacci, Jr.
Clint Jackson - Prostitution Addiction, Charged with Several Petifile Crimes
Eric Snow - Great Hustler, Serious Drinking Problem
Kevin Quinn - Sweet Lefty Stroke, Unnatural Love for Asian Women
Paul Farinacci, Jr. - Drinking Problem, Gambling Problem, Injury Prone
Jason Lepore - Pussy, Lucky If He Makes Through One Year Working for Me
I couldn't figure out why he left my name on the list, but I'm pretty sure it was simply a motivational tool. My one concern was with Paul Farinacci, a player who I knew was immensely talented but had the reputation of being cancerous in the clubhouse. As the team's former manager, I was reluctant to keep him on the squad for fear of dividing the clubhouse. Mr. Djernes told me, "He is a great player. Get over it."
Oh well, I though, may as well make the best of it. So I walked out of his office energized, ready to take the J's to a new level of success.
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ReplyDeleteWow, I didn't realize I wasn't one of the originals on this squad. I believe post-game was held at my apartment. I believe opponents gave me the nickname wheels. I guess I didn't help partake in the creation of the team name.
ReplyDeleteSome of these guys didn't even play on the expansion of the soft js (football sqaud).
Thanks David.
Thanks Lepore.
And you wonder why I left.
Fuck you, and fuck your mother.
get you some. . . .craig