Steve Spurrier's retirement diary shows the legend still remains
Editor's Note: On Wednesday, legendary football coach Steve Spurrier—who led the University of Florida, University of South Carolina, and some weekend beer-league team from Washington—unexpectedly announced his retirement, effective immediately. Spurrier's decision dealt a devastating blow to an already struggling Gamecocks squad (2-4), which promptly tapped longtime offensive line coach Shawn Elliot as the team's interim skipper.
Late Thursday night, The Cauldron obtained Spurrier's first-ever retirement diary entry. How did we get it? We have our ways (of breaking windows, duct-taping Dobermans, and rummaging through desk drawers).
(Editor's note: This article is satirical. But if Spurrier would like to send us his diary, we'd welcome it.)
October 15, 2015 — Day 1
11:20 a.m.: Dear Diary. That’s how these things start right? I don’t know. What the hell was I thinkin? I haven’t been retired one day and already Jerri’s tellin me to spray the litter box out with a hose. I didn’t even know we had a cat. Let alone nine of em. I did sleep until 11 for the first time since Labor Day. So that felt good. S---, now she's talkin about the beer bottles in the bathtub. I gotta get the hell out of here. Get some fresh air, clear my head.
11:45 a.m.: Stopped at Arby’s. I know I was just here 12 hours ago but retirement’s got me feeling frisky. Gonna have this here gentleman take a Polaroid to remember it by.
Went to my usual booth but some degenerate was sprawled across the seat asleep. Dumped a whole Dr Pepper on his head. He woke up alright. Dragged him out of there by his feet. That’s street justice. Not sure if the Arby’s people thought it was the best idea, but f--- em. I’m a top 10 customer of theirs. Just got a page from Jerri on the beeper. Says she needs some things at Bed Bath & Beyond. Terrific.
12:07 p.m.: BBB ain’t got no place to sit down and write. Figured a ladies store would have chairs outside a dressing room or something. So I’m sittin on a pile of towels instead. I can’t find anything in here. Tried lookin for a hairdryer, turns out I was in the aisle for popcorn machines. Tried lookin for feminist soap, wound up lost in some storage area. "Excuse me. Is this where I find the bed canopies? Whatever the hell those are?" ... "I'm sorry sir, these are salad spoons." All these blue haired assistants must think I’m losin it. I gotta get out of here.
12:50 p.m.: Back at Arby’s. One more beef and cheddar should do it. That man is back in my booth again though. We’ll see how he likes the taste of fire extinguisher.
1:05 p.m.: Well that sure roused him. Shot up and went after me like a wolverine. Kicked him square in the nuts to stun him. Apparently I’m banned from Arby’s for a month now. You have the meats huh? You know what you don’t have? Steve Spurrier’s business. This is bulls---. I'm hittin the links.
1:45 p.m.: Made it two holes. Hooked my goddam five iron, ball hit the caddy on the next hole square in the face. Got so heated, I took the damn thing and shoved it in a portajohn. The club not the caddy. Amazin how deep them things are. Anyway I scooted outta there just as the ambulance arrived. No big deal, Connor Shaw had worse from my clipboard. Kid will be fine.
2:15 p.m.: I’ve about had it with this darned Sable. Cassette player stopped working altogether. Can't even eject my Wynona Judd tape. And I’m convinced there’s a family of dead squirrels in the radiator. Drove to the Lincoln dealership for a test drive. And no, it has nothing to do with that Hollywood commie McConnahay. This MKZ looks spankin. Think I’ll give her a spin.
2:50 p.m.: This car is literally driving itself. The dealer said it was “adaptive cruise control” or some such. I can actually write my diary right here in the driver’s se —
2:51 p.m.: Smart Car my ass. Thing drove straight into a traffic pole. Airbags didn’t even deploy til I opened the door. We were only goin about 25, so I’m fine. Except now I got the police and the insurance company here. Gave em a wad of cash and a couple autographs and we’re square. Back to the Sable I guess.
3:20 p.m.: Figure I’d head over to practice, see how the boys are doin without Ol Papa Steve runnin the show. How bad can it be?
4:15 p.m.: Holy s---. What a s---show. What do I see when I pull up but a bunch of firefighters hosin down the field. Apparently some dingbat groundskeeper used gasoline instead of fertilizer, then put the fertilizer in the water coolers instead of water. One cigarette and the thing went up in flames like Lindsay Graham. Guys were wearin their helmets backwards, quarterbacks warmin up throwing tennis rackets, half the team ran off the track and into the woods instead of turning left, and Mitch Connor came up and asked me if I’d tie his shoes. I just left yesterday for Petes sake! The coaches were game plannin for LSU ... We played em last week! Those Vanderbilt eggheads gonna come in here and score a thousand points! What a darned mess. I need bourbon.
5:05 p.m.: Went to Cleet’s. Maybe my favorite watering hole in Columbia. They let you throw the chicken bones right on the floor. Gotta wear my sunglasses when I come in here though. Fans get rowdy when they get liquored up, and I don’t think they're happy I left. They don’t understand when a man gets to be my age, he doesn't have time for this business anymore. I just want my Arby’s, my Old Crow, and maybe the occasional massage. I consider myself a simple man. That’s why I like Cleet’s. Let ya run a monthly tab, pay when you want. Hell they let you pay in mufflers if it’s in good shape. Gonna have one more Crow & cola. Got Jerri’s church group comin’ over for dinner. Can’t get too sauced up. Better take another Polaroid fore I forget.
6:15 p.m.: Aww s----. Ia’m infor it now. Bartender musta put tank fule in that laast drnk. Now jurys gotta come picc my drunka-- up. Told hr id be the one wavin my pants lke a flag. Thn i gota tel her i culdnt even get the hairdryr n bed cnopy. Bettr believe them cats'll be takn care of.
7:05 p.m.: Managed to sobr up a bit with a cold shower n for or five winstons. jerrys church group startin to arrive. Think ill put on these here tuxedo to really impress em. Just tied the bow tie in a knot, same difference.
8:10 p.m.: Total nghtmare. First jerri decides im gonna grill stakes. in my tuxedo! How rdiculus. I turned the propane on but the grill woldnt light. Finally I just tried to lite the propane tank herself and dang if she didn explode over the fence and into the sky. No idea whre the sucker landed. Guess the hose wadnt attachd. Just gave up n ordered pizza hut instead.
905 had to tke a break. what a buncha hussies. First they giv me crap bout the propne tank then one of em starts flappin her gums bout how footballs dangerous and blah blah blah blah. i told her we go outsde right now n run a gauntlet she wants to see wht danger is. I didnt turn jadaven clowny into a robot killin mchine to sit round an listen to some ol flapper tell me my Ps and qs. Told em all jesus was a strong safety. They dint say s--- aftr that.
10:15 p.m.: church group is gone.
11:05 p.m.: called a cab back to cleets. Had the evenin news on. pparently my propane can wound up somones yard n blowin up a car. not th house. Ida felt bad then. Prolly shouldnt say nothing. told the barkeep flip oer to ESPN. There they r talkin bout ol Steve spurrir. Mark may. Wht a corncob.
225: bars closn but cabs not runnin. gona curlup on the bar top. no one notice. its all bout hidin inin plain sight go cocks