You turn on an NFL game in December between the Chicago Bears and the New England Patriots inside the Windy City’s Soldier Field, you expect to see snow flakes flying around as wickedly as Bears linebacker Brian Urlacher.
What you don’t expect is to see similar flakes moving at similar speeds outside your Chattanooga area den window.
But there I was Sunday afternoon, the snow in my backyard almost as intense as the snow in Chicago, though I swear my basset hound ran better routes to his favorite backyard spots than Da Bears did against the Patriots.
Still, if we can have a parallel universe between Ch-ch-ch-Chi-Town and Ch-ch-ch-Chatt-Town when it comes to snowflakes, why can’t some of these coaching hires similarly cross over from the sublime to the ridiculous.
For instance, why is Miami trying to clean up its act and its image by hiring Temple’s Al Golden, a no-nonsense guy with a spotless record who once both played for and worked under the ultimate Boy Scout – Penn State’s ageless Joe Paterno?