You happened to meet and strike up a conversation with Western Michigan football head coach P.J. Fleck at a bar last night. You, in a mildly drunk state, thought, "Holy crap, this is a pretty cool dude." So you agree to hang out with the guy next Sunday. What's in store? Boy oh, boy are you in for a treat.
He picks you up at 5 A.M., obviously. "Each day is far too great to waste on sleeping," he tells you while literally jumping on your bed. (How he got in your house isn't exactly clear, but you're strangely ok with it. He's just so damn pleasant!)
Fleck takes you to a field to watch the sunrise. He tells you about how moments like these remind him of how beautiful the world and humanity can be. He then somehow relates this sermon of unending splendor to how the Broncos can go 9-3 this year. Like a fifth grader learning about Einstein's Theory of Relativity, you don't exactly follow what the hell he's talking about, but you can tell it's brilliant. (Yup, Einstein and Fleck are similar people!)
Now the two of you pick up some breakfast. Coming from a guy like this, you'd expect something like raw eggs, right? WRONG! Even better, Fleck hops straight into the Kalamazoo River and wrestles two largemouth bass for you. Naturally, he makes the fire to cook them on with a flint rock, telling you that doing it any differently would be cutting corners.
"That's not what Western Michigan cooking is about."
Next on the docket: EIGHT HOURS OF FLAG FOOTBALL. You're tired around hour three, but Fleck just keeps going. The dude is a machine! You're hoping he could secretly suit up for special teams plays during the season. Who would notice, really? He'd probably block three extra points and return a couple punts to the house.
The only real bummer during this glorious afternoon of non-contact football is Fleck's insistence on instituting various coordinated dance moves when his team makes a great play. "Come on buddy, you have to let that happen naturally," you think. You excuse it though, because it's nice to see someone so passionate. (Unlike that day you spent with Bill Cubit, which consisted of him complaining about hip-hop and then him falling asleep watching golf, half-eaten dry turkey sandwich still in hand. Man that was unpleasant.)
As the evening sets in, you head to dinner and a dance club. Yup, eight hours of football and Fleck's still got the energy to kick it on the dance floor. It's a bit embarrassing though, because Fleck's only dance move is rowing the boat. Like, that's it. Over and over and over. And over.
As the night winds down, he drops you off at home. He leaves you with one more motivational quote which, frankly, you're sick and tired of. But you smile and nod because he's so sincere and genuinely nice. You know he'll put his head to rest tonight with dreams of MAC championships, nekton, and Greg Schiano.
Authors note: I bet you SOBs thought we'd go canoeing or something like that, huh?! Far too easy, my friends. Fleck's more complex than that low-hanging fruit nonsense.