QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about the sidelines. Trust the Quarterback Coach in Mckinney. I need you to listen to these Quarterback Lessons in Mckinney. Big game today folks. Can't wait to be on these sidelines. The sidelines of a football team should have TSA checkpoints. You can't go to the defensive side. It would be like the migrant caravan trying to enter the United States. Bro what the fuck are you doing over here. Jeez grabbing some Gatorade bro. Like when I worked in Chicago one time, and took Roosevelt all the way to downtown Chicago. Hey Carol, I went downtown yesterday. Ginos East Great Pizza. What street did you take? Oh yeah, Roosevelt. Jesus, did they throw a brick threw your window? Carol, what do you mean? That is the deadliest part of South Chicago. This is ironic. So when a group of people at your local church get together to sing in the choir. Their voices blend beautiful. God, the glory, he can move the mountains. So N'Sync. Man these guys sound great together. But then the crowd of a football game. They are all canceling each other out. You can't hear anything. Like when you want to watch television but Direct TV has a storm warning. Click 7107 for more information. One more god damn storm and I am canceling their ass. They say if you drink too many beers. You go from buzzed to drunk back to buzzed back to sober. You drink yourself sober. I don't know anything about that. That is crowd noise. You scream yourself quiet. Its like the eye of the hurricane. You turn into Keifer Sutherland in Melancholia when the planet he has been observing finally enters earths atmosphere. Its the end of the world. You just stare into the sun. Game day man. The only time you can make out the crowd is 2 hours before the game. The student section gets there early lubed up. I was in Colorado warming up, and the students were chanting-- "Beck Sucks Dick, Beck Sucks Dick!!" I looked up at Coach Norvell, and he said Welcome to College Football Son! I just smiled. I don't know. You can't breath in Colorado. I watched Mason Crosby kick 65 yard field goals. He was definitely showing off. I just remember thinking I mean this is cool. But you are kicking the ball. I feel like a leg should be able to kick a ball that far. Like its not a special feat. I felt bad for him. That his entire life was dedicated to kicking the ball. Check out my strong leg? Wtf. I can flex my bicep to show my cannon arm. Do you have to take your jeans off? to show your hairy leg. Whenever I play catch with someone. We always get to a distance where they can't throw it back. So they punt the ball to me. And nothing makes my skin crawl more than someone kicking a football. We can't be friends ever once you do that once with me. I won't return any of your calls or texts after this. Your mom asks, Where is Ken? Fucking dead, I don't know as I bite into a turkey sandwich she made for me. Nails on a chalkboard. Blasphemy is what I am getting at. Mike Glennon got defeated by me pre-game. Someone said something stupid about who can throw the furthest. I said me took a step and threw it out of the back of the endzone. About 75 yards away. Mike looked at me, and said I am good. I know you are good you fuck. Kid orders cheesecake at the cheesecake factory, when everyone knows you are supposed to order Lindas Fudge Cake. I hate that menu by the way. Every time I open it, it has like 200 options, and all I want are fried macaroni and cheese balls in that vodka sauce, bread with peanut butter sauce, or chicken and bisquits. Nothing else. And no vegetables. I refuse to eat vegetables. Anyways when you are not in the game. They want you to signal and dummy signal. I don't give a shit about signaling to the quarterback. One of the quarterbacks always takes the roll, and acts like a high school crossing guard with it too. Like they are the high school SRO in the cafeteria. Damn the one I had in middle school had some buckteeth. If I am not playing, you can count me out. I basically just sit on the bench with some Gatorade, and read the scores of the games I a missing on television. One time I forgot what quarter it was. The game started. I looked up, and realized I hadn't moved and it was almost halftime. I didn't even know what the score was. Damn what if they would have put me in the game. My worst fear on the sidelines is wear is my helmet. Cause you take it off to talk on the phone. Coach, how is it going? What was the deal with the flanker drive. I don't know I saw it and just missed it. You fucking missed it. Hangs up phone. That is what is really happening. The punt team comes up and you start panicking. Fuck, where is my helmet. You thought you left it on the bench. But someone moved it. The guy catches the punt, and you still haven't found it. Son of a bitch. Omg there it is. You find it. Put it on and run out there. Okay coach what do you want? Green Right 93 weak. Okay. Running out to the huddle, trying to remember what he said. That's pretty much the game. There is no where to take a piss. So you just piss your pants, and hope it looks like sweat. Man Harrison sure sweats a lot. All the lineman do it. Let a little out at a time. Either that you have to go back into the white tent and piss, but then you are nervous someone will get an interception, and you will have no time to buckle your pants. Damn life on the sideline is hard. So many decisions. If you are playing good. You will get high as fuck on energy. Like 13 redbulls worth of high. You just stare. You go to the sidelines, and just stare. Can't hear or see shit. Don't blink for like 3 hours. Just in the zone. Don't talk to anyone. But that is like when you throw 4-5 touchdowns. You can always tell a quarterback who is focused. If they are throwing picks its because they are out of it. They can't find that explosions in the sky song in their brain. Their instrumental. A good trick to see if quarterbacks are confident and ready for the big game. Dead serious. Put on an instrumental and have them do a freestyle contest. Whoever raps the best is ready to play. Because some times the human brain locks up. You have to keep hitting CNTRL ALT DELETE to start task manager and end Excel. Then start over again. Fucking laptop sucks. It kinks like a hose out of nowhere. Why isn't the water spraying? Looks back 60 yards and its kinked. Half to walk your ass all the way back there to unkink it. It flutters in and out on consciousness. The players who play the best can focus the longest, they can stay in the flow the longest. They control the flow, it doesn't control them. They just turn it on like a light switch. Honey I am home. Flicks light switch. Smells good in here. Chicken and rice with a glass of milk is serviced. I don't know. Look the sidelines isn't Jack Nicholson at a Lakers Game. Damn did you see that. Dusty Kavorcheck just threw sand in Slausons face at the snap. You see shit like that. Man Adrian Peterson has some great biceps. Just sitting there on the sidelines. With all these loser water boys, and girls- and the redshirt kids, and the injured kids. Sitting there. Bored out of your mind. They just gossip the whole game, and talk about what they would do if they were playing. Bro you're not. You're in sweat pants and every coach is wondering why the fuck you are scholarship if you can't play because you have a pretend concussion. I get worse headaches from Sailor Jerry. Some games you go into like William & Mary. You're like - fuck lets go to the mall. No plan. It was supposed to be a relaxing Sunday. Fuck man-- Dan is playing terrible today. I thought I was going to get the whole game off. I mean I am totally checked out, and now I have to go play. Son of a bitch. Its cold. Its the last game. We aren't going to a bowl. Maryland is pounding our ass. Whatever, I am just going to go in there and pretend I can't see the signals, and call a play. Tell the coach I didn't get it. Sidelines. You know those headsets that the coaches are wearing. They are just making fun of players the entire time. Cussing at them. Calling them fucking idiots. The entire time. Mocking them. Swear to god. I wore one time. Its just a conference call in the middle of the game. Dead serious. Like imagine you are at work going over your P & L line item by line item but with 90,000 people cheering. Coaches will have the title of Offensive Coordinator. Like Jay Norvell. All he did was have a pair of binoculars, and tell Bill what the coverage was. So Bill could call the play. Great stuff Jay! Your resume says Offensive Coordinator and you are a bird scout at Yellow Stone National Park. Being on the sidelines is like going to a party where you know a fight is going to happen. But you know someone there who swears you'll be okay. And you just like -- man why can't we just go to Flying Saucer instead. Somewhere safe. Imagine how much of a whack job you have to be to become a strength coach, and your only job is hype man, and sideline control. Like what does your mom think you do for a life. Mom I became a strength coach who controls sidelines during games. She puts her face into her hands and engages a soft whimper. The quarterback is like the CEO of the team, and he has to talk to assistant coaches and graduate assistants about plays. Just get the fuck out of my face. Send someone over who knows science. I think that is Brady & Belicheck. They only listen to each other. Steve Jobs only ever let 3 people in a meeting at a time. Anything more is a distraction. Sidelines. Imagine Sea World. With the Killer Whales. But if instead of just the instructors in the killer whale tank. The whole crowd got to jump in like a wave pool at adventure island and play with the killer whales. That is people on the sidelines talking to me while I am trying to concentrate. I would end up on the Netflix movie Black Fish. SEC SEC SEC that was South Carolina as they pounded our ass. That was loud. I just looked around, and I wondered. All these people hear to watch me on the sideline. Standing there, screaming, cheering. All there parents having to cope with the fact that they gave birth to a fan, instead of a player. They turn to their husband. Thanks Rick -- our son is a fan. Great genes you got there buddy. Files divorce. And there I am on the sideline. My feet kicked up. Finally my shoulder pads and uniform has formed nicely to my body. Pain in the ass at pregame. If its a noon game. Then it should be over by 2:30ish. Then 2 hours to get to plane. So that is 4:30ish. Then an hour to unload. Get home. 5:30ish. Shower and Stuff. Fuck yeah I am definitely hitting the club tonight. Beck Beck-- looks up. You're in. Dude where the fuck is my helmet?