Congratulations Miscreant!

In every teen sports movie there’s that one kid who doesn’t really seem like a part of the team but is inexplicably attached to it for some asinine reason. Maybe someone has cancer. Maybe his parents are divorced or his dad is an alcoholic or a shell shocked Vietnam vet or whatever. It doesn’t really matter.

The point is that today is your day. Today Emilio Estevez will have given up hope for you and your rag teammates. He’ll think that there’s no way a group of people stricken with a somewhat troublesome but totally overblown condition (example: vaginas) could possibly win a game of sports. But you’re going to walk into his office or apartment or maybe find his van in a laundromat parking lot or something and lay it all on the line for him. You’re going to tell him about your temporally appropriate problem which requires resolution and he’s gong to have a moment.

He’s going to think about what you have to say for a minute, then dismiss you. He might throw something dangerous at you, so be careful. And then he’ll leave.

At this point you’ll go to the game and lead all your teammates on, telling them that he promised he’d show you. See, you feel like winning this game will solve your non-specific problem. And you know that your teammates need it to for their various non-specific problems that require seemingly mystical absolution attached to a sporting event. So you’ll lie.

But unbeknownst to you the hopeful lie you tell about your coach showing up again will actually be kinda true. Because while Emilio Estevez is driving for the state line or the Mexican border or the airport or whatever he’s going to think about what you said and have a change of heart and maybe, if it’s appropriate, think about legally adopting you.

He’ll turn around from his destination and arrive at sporting event location, where he’ll see you and your team playing sport like a group of champions. He’ll see you using the lessons he taught you and applying them and he’ll feel deeply redeemed and completely unnecessary. He’ll feel like a dad.

He’ll watch you playing sports, acting like a little version of him, and then he’ll realize he shouldn’t kill himself. Which is good, because if he did we’d never get a good follow up to Repo Man, which we’re sure he’ll do when he’s in his mid seventies at this point.

Congratulations Miscreant!