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Post by johneaztec on Sept 21, 2010 10:32:13 GMT -8
My biggest beef about Craft is that it seems as though people want to make him out to be worse than he was. I don't understand that one. That is my beef, too. I did not push for Tom to be hired. But once he was hired, he proved that he could build the program from the ground up and was doing it. Years before, I went to Palomar games and loved his offense. His calls reminded me of Coryell on the sidelines. Tom won all those national championships because he has a special gift for attacking weaknesses of his opponents. And, a lot of that is situational. He can dissect defenses. Few coaches can. Once he was here, I gave him my support. Unfortunately the average posters on this board are too stupid to understand that it takes years to build a program. You can not just snap your fingers and have experienced Seniors instantly playing for you. YOu have to build. Long got linemen like Dombrowski and Robinson. The JC All American talent (Pino, Schmit, Nelson...) that Tom had recruited to fill the absence of Tollner's linemen graduated in 2005 when Tom was fired. Otherwise, he was going to bring in two more all American JC kids to add depth as the Freshmen matured. He would have had Five Juniors in the Starting offensive line in 2006. But he was gone, and Long screwed everything up. Tom absolutely gets it when it comes to the the Samoan factor. His teams are always loaded with them. He loves them.
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Post by aztecwin on Sept 21, 2010 12:21:46 GMT -8
That is my beef, too. I did not push for Tom to be hired. But once he was hired, he proved that he could build the program from the ground up and was doing it. Years before, I went to Palomar games and loved his offense. His calls reminded me of Coryell on the sidelines. Tom won all those national championships because he has a special gift for attacking weaknesses of his opponents. And, a lot of that is situational. He can dissect defenses. Few coaches can. Once he was here, I gave him my support. Unfortunately the average posters on this board are too stupid to understand that it takes years to build a program. You can not just snap your fingers and have experienced Seniors instantly playing for you. YOu have to build. Long got linemen like Dombrowski and Robinson. The JC All American talent (Pino, Schmit, Nelson...) that Tom had recruited to fill the absence of Tollner's linemen graduated in 2005 when Tom was fired. Otherwise, he was going to bring in two more all American JC kids to add depth as the Freshmen matured. He would have had Five Juniors in the Starting offensive line in 2006. But he was gone, and Long screwed everything up. Tom continually said that it would take MANY years for this program to get it to where it needed to be. The big one was the damn schedule, he got murdered by that thing right out of the gates,and the lack of resources. Don't forget he hired Kaumeyer, who's still coaching and gave Andy Buh his first gig, so he has an eye for talent with players and coaches. So he was the lame duck coach who had to go through those tough schedules because we needed the money, not to prove we could beat those guys, even though we nearly did a few times, remarkably, given the place the program was in at the time. Remember, he had to be talked into taking the job since he's always been perfectly content with the path he was taking in the Juco ranks towards retirement. He doesn't care to be rich, he'd rather be happy than take on a mess, but he did, and he gave it 110 percent for his Alma Mater. I just wish his Alma Mater gave him 110 percent in helping to get to a bowl game. This pretty much sums up how I feel about this issue. Tom had his flaws and I am glad he is gone now, but I also think he was not given anywere near a fair shake on support. He might have turned things around in time, but was not given the time. Long could never have made a go of it. Just thank your lucky stars that Hoke seems to be the real deal. Now lets please move on.
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Post by johneaztec on Sept 21, 2010 12:37:13 GMT -8
Tom continually said that it would take MANY years for this program to get it to where it needed to be. The big one was the damn schedule, he got murdered by that thing right out of the gates,and the lack of resources. Don't forget he hired Kaumeyer, who's still coaching and gave Andy Buh his first gig, so he has an eye for talent with players and coaches. So he was the lame duck coach who had to go through those tough schedules because we needed the money, not to prove we could beat those guys, even though we nearly did a few times, remarkably, given the place the program was in at the time. Remember, he had to be talked into taking the job since he's always been perfectly content with the path he was taking in the Juco ranks towards retirement. He doesn't care to be rich, he'd rather be happy than take on a mess, but he did, and he gave it 110 percent for his Alma Mater. I just wish his Alma Mater gave him 110 percent in helping to get to a bowl game. This pretty much sums up how I feel about this issue. Tom had his flaws and I am glad he is gone now, but I also think he was not given anywere near a fair shake on support. He might have turned things around in time, but was not given the time. Long could never have made a go of it. Just thank your lucky stars that Hoke seems to be the real deal. Now lets please move on. I do believe in Hoke.
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Post by The Great Aztec Joe on Sept 21, 2010 12:49:23 GMT -8
This pretty much sums up how I feel about this issue. Tom had his flaws and I am glad he is gone now, but I also think he was not given anywere near a fair shake on support. He might have turned things around in time, but was not given the time. Long could never have made a go of it. Just thank your lucky stars that Hoke seems to be the real deal. Now lets please move on. I do believe in Hoke. And so do I. He looks like the kind of coach who will kick you in the ass when you need a little extra kick to get going. I like men like that. Strong coaches usually get results. I was a great fan of Woody Hayes when I was a kid. Ask Steve about Arizona State's coach when he was there. Football is a tough sport. We do not need any crybabies.
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Post by The Great Aztec Joe on Sept 21, 2010 12:54:22 GMT -8
Tom absolutely gets it when it comes to the the Samoan factor. His teams are always loaded with them. He loves them. So many of them have that first step burst that is so important in O-line positions. Samoans can do that and smile at the same time. I have lived with Samoans all of my life, and they are the most unique people on earth.
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Post by johneaztec on Sept 21, 2010 15:22:34 GMT -8
Tom absolutely gets it when it comes to the the Samoan factor. His teams are always loaded with them. He loves them. So many of them have that first step burst that is so important in O-line positions. Samoans can do that and smile at the same time. I have lived with Samoans all of my life, and they are the most unique people on earth. Tough SOB's those Samoans. Have you ever been drunk with a Samoan? They get very aggressive and want to fight anybody. Good times.
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Post by The Great Aztec Joe on Sept 21, 2010 18:05:09 GMT -8
So many of them have that first step burst that is so important in O-line positions. Samoans can do that and smile at the same time. I have lived with Samoans all of my life, and they are the most unique people on earth. Tough SOB's those Samoans. Have you ever been drunk with a Samoan? They get very aggressive and want to fight anybody. Good times. I had a reputation as a sailor as a hard drinker and a lover of good fights. My stepmother (My fathers fourth wife) is the Volike of the Manua (Eastern Samoan) islands. That Volike (the spoiled one) title means she gets to pass on the royal title to her oldest son. Technically, I am her oldest son by marriage (Samoans don't differentiate), so in actuality, I could claim to be a Samoan King. (I am German as you can see from my photo, so that would not be a wise thing to do.) One thing I learned from my Samoan Brothers is to party hard and beat the sheet out of anybody who gets in your way. I did that until I got religion about the age of 26. My Samoan brother Lewis was a DE on our highschool team that won the CIF championship in 1969. He broke four opposing player's legs that year. He was smiling all the time, too.
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Post by The Great Aztec Joe on Sept 21, 2010 18:20:35 GMT -8
Please, please, Uncle Joe---answer this question and discuss in detail. Dips**t, what was that!!!! You have issues as a troll, as you don't deny. JYP likes to hear some of my true stories. Actually my best drinking with ethnic people story had to deal with the night I spend drinking with some Nahuatl speaking Indians in Orizaba Mexico. I got in about four in the evening from VeraCruz and was waiting for an hour to catch the southbound train to Merida in the Yucutan. There were a bunch of German Girls who were traveling with me, but they refused to go with me to the dirt floor tavern across the railroad tracks so I went in there alone. I walked into the establishment and all eyes were on me, and some local tough walked up to me. He had a long knife tucked into his stained white pants on the left side of his hip with the handle positioned so he could grab the knife with his right hand. That meant the blade was towards his manhood. Anytime you see that, you know you are dealing with a very tough hombre. He walked right up to me and with his nose about two inches from my nose, raised his eyebrows as if to question what the fug I was doing in his bar. I stared him down and smiled (you have always got to smile in a situation like this to show 1. That you are not afraid of this animal with bad breath, and 2. That you want to be friendly. Then I said, Quiero una cervesa fria. Si no tiene cervesa, pulque esta bien. (I would like a cold beer, but if there ain't none, pulque would be fine.) Ooops, my wife is calling. I'll have to finish the story later.
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Post by steveaztec on Sept 22, 2010 7:30:31 GMT -8
Dips**t, what was that!!!! You have issues as a troll, as you don't deny. JYP likes to hear some of my true stories. Actually my best drinking with ethnic people story had to deal with the night I spend drinking with some Nahuatl speaking Indians in Orizaba Mexico. I got in about four in the evening from VeraCruz and was waiting for an hour to catch the southbound train to Merida in the Yucutan. There were a bunch of German Girls who were traveling with me, but they refused to go with me to the dirt floor tavern across the railroad tracks so I went in there alone. I walked into the establishment and all eyes were on me, and some local tough walked up to me. He had a long knife tucked into his stained white pants on the left side of his hip with the handle positioned so he could grab the knife with his right hand. That meant the blade was towards his manhood. Anytime you see that, you know you are dealing with a very tough hombre. He walked right up to me and with his nose about two inches from my nose, raised his eyebrows as if to question what the fug I was doing in his bar. I stared him down and smiled (you have always got to smile in a situation like this to show 1. That you are not afraid of this animal with bad breath, and 2. That you want to be friendly. Then I said, Quiero una cervesa fria. Si no tiene cervesa, pulque esta bien. (I would like a cold beer, but if there ain't none, pulque would be fine.) Ooops, my wife is calling. I'll have to finish the story later. Very true. JYP does love your stories. In fact, I do too.
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Post by johneaztec on Sept 22, 2010 12:03:10 GMT -8
JYP likes to hear some of my true stories. Actually my best drinking with ethnic people story had to deal with the night I spend drinking with some Nahuatl speaking Indians in Orizaba Mexico. I got in about four in the evening from VeraCruz and was waiting for an hour to catch the southbound train to Merida in the Yucutan. There were a bunch of German Girls who were traveling with me, but they refused to go with me to the dirt floor tavern across the railroad tracks so I went in there alone. I walked into the establishment and all eyes were on me, and some local tough walked up to me. He had a long knife tucked into his stained white pants on the left side of his hip with the handle positioned so he could grab the knife with his right hand. That meant the blade was towards his manhood. Anytime you see that, you know you are dealing with a very tough hombre. He walked right up to me and with his nose about two inches from my nose, raised his eyebrows as if to question what the fug I was doing in his bar. I stared him down and smiled (you have always got to smile in a situation like this to show 1. That you are not afraid of this animal with bad breath, and 2. That you want to be friendly. Then I said, Quiero una cervesa fria. Si no tiene cervesa, pulque esta bien. (I would like a cold beer, but if there ain't none, pulque would be fine.) Ooops, my wife is calling. I'll have to finish the story later. Very true. JYP does love your stories. In fact, I do too. Ditto.
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Post by The Great Aztec Joe on Sept 22, 2010 15:45:33 GMT -8
We have a problem with the Dishwasher. THAT is a crisis with my wife. I will try to pick up the story tomorrow in the morning. You have got to take care of the woman first.
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Post by The Great Aztec Joe on Sept 23, 2010 7:17:13 GMT -8
The night (1973) I spend drinking with some Nahuatl speaking Indians in Orizaba Mexico. I got in by train about four in the evening from VeraCruz and was waiting for an hour to catch the southbound train to Merida in the Yucatan. There were a bunch of German Girls who were traveling with me, but they refused to go with me to the dirt floor tavern across the railroad tracks so I went in there alone. (I was going to take the German Girls to the Island of Isla Mujeres off of the coast of Quintana Roo. www.maps-of-mexico.com/images/quintana-roo-state-450x500.gif ) I walked into the establishment and all eyes were on me, and some local tough walked up to me. He had a long knife tucked into his stained white pants on the left side of his hip with the handle positioned so he could grab the knife with his right hand. That meant the blade was towards his manhood. Anytime you see that, you know you are dealing with a very tough hombre. He walked right up to me and with his nose about two inches from my nose, raised his eyebrows as if to question what the fug I was doing in "his" bar. I stared him down and smiled (you have always got to smile in a situation like this to show 1. That you are not afraid of this animal with stained and missing teeth and bad breath. & 2. That you want to be friendly. Note also that a smile can hide any expression of fear or nervousness. Guys like this guy feast on other men's fear.) Then I said, Quiero una cervesa fria. Si no tiene cervesa, pulque esta bien. (I would like a cold beer, but if there ain't none, pulque would be fine.) Pulque is made from the fluid that flows up the stalk of the Century plant (it is not a cactus) when it is in bloom. Like sap from a maple tree, it is collected through a hole tapped into the side of the stalk. Some people call it Aqua Miel (honey water). It ferments rather quickly and must be drunk before it spoils. Remote Mexican Indians love it in preference to beer or wine. Pulque is not distilled, so has about ten percent alcohol. The Mexicans spike the liquid with sugar before the fermentation period, so it has more alcohol and really rots the teeth. How did I know about pulque? Simple, I lived in Mexico from 1958 to 1959 (about 18 months) at the age of 10 to 11. I returned in 1967 to visit with old friends after I graduated from high school, and used to get drunk with them (Pablo Luna Garcia who is a character in my two books, and Filipe Ricardo Escobar who last I knew was a taxi driver in Manzanillo.) They lived in an Indian village that I lived next to in 58 - 59. They spoke a mixture of Nahuatl and Spanish as did this guy in the tavern that I had just met. Well this new guy looked at me for well over a minute and then said, "Pulque? You are a Gringo Chingadero (fuggin' Gringo) and they do not drink pulque)" So I lied to him, and said that I was a German (Soy Aleman y si he vivido aqui in Mexico por agunos anos.) and I have lived in Mexico for a few years. He smiled at me and said, "The beer is still warm, but hell yes, we have pulque. Come sit and drink with me. I don't like Gringos because they have destroyed my native land, but Germans are OK. They make lots of wars with the Gringos, and that is good." So, I sat with him and several other withered Indians throughout the night. The Mexican Bar Girls (whores and companions) came in about Nine and they joined us. They were all Indians (Shorter legs than Spanish girls, with a tendency to a ample but flat butt and not so wide shoulders). I like my women with long legs, curves on their butts, and broad shoulder that can support ample breasts, so the Indian girls did not appeal to me. The German Girls did, but they did not like to get shitfaced. I looked across the tracks and they had taken a room for the night at a run down four room hotel by the train station. Seeing that they were reasonably safe, I decided to spend the night drinking with my new friends until the train came. The best looking of the bar girls individually danced a strip tease for the entertainment of the men and to drum up requests for their additional "services." To make money in that business, you have got to advertise and/or entice. Well, we drank all of the pulque and about one in the morning switched to that beer that was then cold. My friend used his knife to stab some guy who offended him at the bar, and two other guys took him off in the back of a pickup. Either they took him to bury him or took him to a medical facility. I did not ask as it was none of my business. What I did know was that the guy had refused to pay one of the bar girls for her services. It was then that I realized that my drinking buddy was the all night enforcer/bouncer/pimp for the tavern. Interesting profession. The bar girls were all gone by two o'clock in the morning. Short work day for them, about five hours, but they had to go home and take care of their children, so quitting at two was prudent. Well, rumor came that the train was coming in about four o'clock in the morning. The German girls were up from their sleep and back out on the waiting area, but the train did not come. They waited and waited on the side of the tracks, and I continued to sit the night with my friends. About five I could hear the train in the distance, so bid farewell to the remaining Indians and told them that I had to take care of the women by the tracks. The men understood and patted me on the back and told me to go with God. I crossed the tracks about a half minute before the train arrived and it was the train to Merida. The German girls refused to have anything to do with me as I smelled bad, and had really bloodshot eyes as I was still quite drunk. Their loss. I boarded the train after taking a long leak beside the station, and promptly went to sleep, leaning into a Big Fat Indian woman. She was a good pillow and understood that men needed something soft to lay their heads against. Funny, the German girls never did make it to Isla Mujeres. I ended up going there with a beautiful Mexican girl from Mexico City who was on vacation. But that is another story. That is also where I hugged a coconut tree to ride out a hurricane.
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Post by joshjones1 on Sept 23, 2010 19:28:26 GMT -8
Awesome, man. Did you make sweet love to that young mexican girl from Mexico City?
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