“Coach Lasso, thank you for joining me on such short notice. Please take a seat.”
“Well, I’d take it, but then where would the next fella sit.”
“Uh, Coach, my apologies, but what I have to tell you is a matter of grave urgency.”
“Then let’s make like an influential Canadian prog rock trio and rush. Give me the dirt, Neal Peart. Spill the tea, Geddy Lee.”
“Sir, at approximately 10:27 p.m. Pacific Standard Time, flight 492 disappeared over northern British Columbia. I regret to inform you that your players were aboard that plane and are now considered missing.”
“Well, we got a real Yellowjackets situation on our hands. But I guess that’s more Lord of the Flies without the guys. This here has more of an Alive vibe. I do love that Christina Ricci though. She’ll forever and always be my Wednesday Addams.”
“I, sir, I don’t think you understand. The survivors, if any, are facing bitter conditions in an unforgiving, inhospitable wilderness. The likelihood that we find your players before frostbite or starvation prove fatal is practically zero. We have to notify the next of kin, release a statement to the public.”
“I’ll tell ya what, when I was still in short pants, I had to change schools. And I didn’t know a single kid there. Everything felt so strange and different. Around that time my dad took me to see Yakov Smirnoff live and in person. And as he was telling me about all the funny, little differences between life in America and the Soviet Union, I knew I’d be OK starting over. Because being different isn’t a bad thing.
*Music swells*
“Now, Yakov had such an effect on me that I named my dog — a wiry little mutt who loved to steal your PB and J sandwich right off your plate — I named that mutt Yak after ol’ Yakov. Well, one day Yak caught eyes with a rabbit for the first time and ran off after that sucker into the woods. I called after that dog for hours. The neighbors must of thought I was a preteen ox wrangler in search of his herd. Anyway, Yak was gone. That’s when my old man told me ‘He’ll find his way home. Trust your heart, and it will guide him home.’ And that’s what I did.”
*Long silence as Ted stares off, eyes gleaming, into a vast distance only he can see*
“… and did the dog come back?”
“He sure did. He bit a mail lady the very next day. Had to be put down by the city. But he found his way home. And I think our boys will too. We just need to remember: Trust your heart. And it’ll be like a beacon guiding them back.”
“So you’re comparing the disappearance of an entire premier league soccer team to a childhood pet?”
“Yeah, I guess when you put it like that…”
“Coach Lasso, these men had families. Daughters. Sons.”
“I have a son…”
*Long silence*
“Coach? Coach Lasso? You’ve been staring at your hands for the past 11 minutes.”
“I’m a happy guy. But also sad.”
“I fucking hate it here.”
“Total football!”
