Chapter Thirty-Five: Charred Duck
As much as I tried to forget the letter sitting underneath the clutter in my desk, it was always there. Big wins, close losses, quiet bye week; no matter the circumstance, just when it felt like I was beginning to put it on the back burner I would open my drawer to grab something and there it was, taunting me. Sometimes I’d leave it there, or push it even further back, subconsciously trying to push it out of sight, out of mind. On a few quiet occasions I’d pull it out, reread the short message and ponder who sent it—and more importantly, why?
Locksley had been too quiet the last time we’d met, in Bloomington when I trounced his Hoosiers with the same players he’d abandoned at Maryland. The more I looked through the facts, the harder it was to picture him being behind the letter. And besides, aside from me taking the job he’d abandoned and our slight dust-up at Big Ten Media Day, what incentive did he have to taunt me with the past?
Jonathan Smith was still my bet. It made the most sense. He’d dug into my past at Air Force, found something out. Somehow. After the off-hand comment in the Vegas hotel room last year, the facts all lined up. And he had the axe to grind. Here I was, succeeding in the Big Ten while he struggled in his own right before running back to Oregon State with his tail between his legs. I was the one with a College Football Playoff bid lined up while he fell just short again.
I kept waiting for another letter, damn near expected one after the loss to Washington, or the trouncing by Ohio State. Crickets. Then we went on a scorching run, ripping off five straight wins and rocketing into the College Football Playoff picture. We narrowly missed reaching the Big Ten Championship Game, with Penn State edging us out, but even so were guaranteed an at-large bid in the upcoming playoffs.
But something still felt off. The loss to Washington nagged at me. It was a game we should have won. We had a lead going into the fourth quarter and my decisions, playing slow and trying to kill the clock, sapped our momentum as the Huskies surged past us. We win that game and we’re in the Big Ten Conference Championship.
“You aren’t going to make the conference championship game every year,” rationalized Jessica the Sunday after we beat Michigan State. I’d quickly realized after the game that while we had the same conference record as Penn State, their win over Ohio State combined with our loss gave them the edge for the conference championship. It was confirmed shortly after when the conference announced the rematch between Penn State and Oregon in two weeks time.
“Besides, I’m glad you have a bit of down time before the chaos of the Playoffs,” she continued, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I stopped mid bite of the cherry cheesecake she’d baked after the Senior Night win, eyebrows raised. “The last time you said that, you were pregnant,” I stated as I funneled the bite into my mouth. If my mouth was full, it would give me time to process whatever she said before having to respond.
A hurt scoff was followed by a side-eye that could blind you If you stared directly into it, I had tilted my head to avoid eye contact, but could still feel its weight on the side of my face. “Guess I’ll just forget about that third kid I wanted,” she retorted with a tone that wouldn’t betray if she was being sarcastic, or genuinely hurt.
I quickly opened my mouth to retract my statement, fully believing she was hurt, before the facade cracked and a playful smirk appeared as she flicked her wrist to dismiss the notion.
“I’m more than busy with the two, Flyboy. But, it is about children, just not our own.” She paused, perhaps waiting for me to interject on the joke, or maybe just giving the statements room to breathe on their own. When I didn’t fill the space, she took a deep breath, turned to face me directly, and continued.
“Last month when I was at Riverdale for Tara’s shots for preschool, I got to talking with Julia—the secretary I made friends with. She told me they’re going to have an opening at the beginning of the year—part time, flexible schedule. Something that would be perfect for me to get back into the swing of working again, but still open enough that I can be there for the kids when you’re traveling. Your schedule is basically planned out in advance, she said they’d be more than wiling to accommodate it. Plus, I already know most of the staff with the kids going there since we moved to town. She said she’d bring it up to Doctor Inman if I was interested.”
When she reached the part about the job opening, her pacing went out the window. The final three sentences came out in rapid fire with barely a breath between them. This wasn’t something she’d just thought about, it had been planned. Meticulously. Just waiting for the right moment to present it.
There was no question, I noticed. Just statements.
“So, sounds like you have it all worked out. Are you asking me, or telling me?” I kept my tone neutral, but behind it was genuine confusion. Jessica usually had everything planned out and decided before she presented it to me, she merely sold me on it. And she was a damn good saleswoman. But the rushed, energetic way she spoke about the job opportunity at Riverdale Park Pediatrics was far from the usual calculated pitch that accompanied her ideas.
“Asking, of course,” she stated, almost offended by the question, but without any follow up. I sat in my chair, studying her like I was trying to decipher what the next play call should be, before she finally added clarity.
“Okay, I’m telling you that I want to do it. I love being home with the kids, but at the same time; I don’t want to only be Mrs. Coach Leon. I got into pediatric nursing for a reason and I put that on hold for our family.”
“Which I’m fine with,” she quickly clarified, maybe understanding the undertones of resentment that were layered just below the surface of her previous comments. “Truly, I am.”
“But this is something I want to do. On the same token, I chastised you in the past for making a career decision without me. So it wouldn’t feel right to make the decision without talking to you first.”
I didn’t wait to answer, didn’t want there to be any seeds of doubt planted in her mind. The longer I debated her wishes, the more she’d question if I was just giving in to appease her.
“I think it’s great honey, really, I do. We’re comfortable here, Tara Lydia is ready for pre-school. AJ is old enough we don’t have to worry about him at day-care. The timing couldn’t be better.”
The relief that washed across her face was evident, and jarring. Had she really been that nervous, that unsure of what I would say that it would be such a relief to finally ask?
Before I could ask the question, Jessica was in my lap, kissing me and hugging at the same time.
“I don’t know why I was so nervous to ask you,” she confessed, “I know you wouldn’t be opposed to me doing what made me happy. I guess I was just worried you wouldn’t want to lose the stay-at home wife you’ve grown accustomed to.”
“I know you well enough that if I tried to keep you from doing what you wanted, I’d lose the stay-at home wife anyways,” I half joked into her next, earning a quick pinch.
The calm that Jessica had anticipated with our absence from the conference championship quickly turned into more chaos, through no fault of our own.
The Oklahoma Sooners announced the week before the conference championship games that Brent Venables had been relieved of his duties after a 11-14 record over the past two years including a 4-8 campaign this year. It was one of twelve head coaching gigs open across the country, with a majority of them feeling out just how comfortable I was in Maryland.
That didn’t surprise me, but the one team who picked up the phone did.
“Illinois, Syracuse, Houston, Iowa, SMU,” listed off Harvey into the phone, “They’re all calling, Armando. Don’t worry, I told a few of them off from the bat. You aren’t going to downgrade to freaking Illinois or Syracuse from Maryland,” he added with a chuckle.
“Oh, and Vanderbilt called. SMU, Iowa, and Vanderbilt I left open. I didn’t want to dismiss them without talking to you first.”
“What am I, Lane Kiffin,” I asked rhetorically with a chuckle. While I acted slightly annoyed with the phone call, the opposite was true. The quiet of the bye week had me obsessing over the letter more than during the season. I had pulled it out of the top drawer nearly everyday, and in fact had it in my hand when Harvey called. I pushed it back to the far reaches of the drawer, hoping to dismiss it, but knowing it would find its way back out.
“The only one in there that sounds remotely appealing is Vanderbilt, but only cause of the SEC draw,” I answered, turning my full attention back to Harvey with the letter dismissed, for now. “But, since Pavia left, their shine has certainly dulled.”
“Might as well tell everyone I’m not interested Harvey, save you some phone time,” I added dismissively.
“Well, hold on there Mando. You haven’t heard the coup de grâce yet.”
He was stalling to build anticipation, but I knew it wasn’t Oklahoma. It had already been reported by ESPN, The Athletic, and the SEC Network that Dan Lanning, Josh Heupel, Kyle Flood, and Jedd Fisch were already scheduled to interview with the Sooners.
“Spill it Harvey, you’re trying to build the drama like Ole Miss is looking at me as their next Kiffin.”
The sarcasm caught the usually unflappable Harvey Ross off guard, earning a hefty laugh from the agent.
“No, not Ole Miss. But close. Oregon.”
‘Dan Lanning was interviewing for the Sooners job, but outside of the draw of the SEC, what did Oklahoma have that Oregon didn’t? I thought to myself, leaving Harvey listening to my breathing as I pondered the importance of Lanning’s interview.
“I thought that interview by Lanning was just a ploy to get more money out of the Ducks?”
“I thought that too, so did my buddies at CAA. But, apparently the Ducks think it’s real. They aren’t scheduling interviews or anything, they don’t know what’s going to come from Lanning’s interview. But they’re reaching out to see who is interested so they can be ready if the shoe drops.”
“Are you in?”
“Absolutely not,” Jessica quickly announced when I told her about the interest from Oregon, barely giving me time to get a word in. “We just moved across the country and now you want to pack up and fly all the way back?”
My hands were up in defense, she’d gotten dangerously close to swinging the cast-iron skillet in her hand in my direction in her sudden upheaval of anger.
“Hey, hey. Have I ever made a decision like that without asking you?”
I ducked behind the breakfast bar I’d been sitting at, anticipating the pan to come flying my way at the pointed sarcasm in the heat of the moment. When the pan never came, I slowly rose to meet her anger.
If looks could kill, my coaching career would have ended right there.
“I told Harvey to tell Oregon, no. Okay? It’s too soon after just moving to the East Coast and while I admire Oregon as a program, it would feel disingenuous to everything I built my early career on, by challenging and beating Oregon, to tuck tail and join the dark side at the first opportunity.”
Her anger held for a moment, before relief washed over her and she relaxed. “Flyboy. Don’t you dare play with me like that again. Here I am getting excited about putting in my application at Riverdale Park and you come in here talking about Oregon.”
She added another scoff and flip of her hand for extra emphasis, the anger flaring back up again, before turning away.
“Maybe I should have led with I turned down a job, before telling you who called,” I admitted, before pivoting to my peace offering. “Why don’t you go get the kids ready, we’ll run out to Pure Sweet’s for dessert. My way of saying sorry.”
If she was still angry over how I explained the Oregon offer, she didn’t show it —giving me a swift kiss as she nodded in agreement, yelling for the kids as she disappeared down the hall.
The TV had been playing SportsCenter on an endless loop for the last hour, content to be background noise after the Celtics game against the Knicks had ended. As Jessica was getting the kids ready to head out for dessert, a breaking news alert came across the screen moments before I shut it off.
“Tennessee’s Josh Heupel staying in Knoxville, Oregon’s Dan Lanning expected-“
Scott Van Pelt was cut off mid announcement as Jessica plucked the remote out of my hand and silenced the TV.
“Let’s go, Flyboy. I’ve heard enough about the Oregon Ducks tonight.”
“I don’t like ducks,” Tara Lydia proclaimed with a look of contempt as I scooped her up to head out to Jessica’s Pacifica.
“Me neither sweetie,” I whispered into her hair as we headed out the door, “Except Charred Duck. Charred Duck is the best.”
The look of disgust on her face as she pictured eating a charred duck caused both Jessica and I to double over in laughter. For the next two weeks, whenever Tara asked what was for dinner, the only response she got was “Charred Duck.”
We thought it was hilarious. Tara Lydia, did not.
No Father's Son
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 5586
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 5586
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
Oregon Remains Undefeated With Big Ten Championship Win
Marcus Washington // Terpsville • Published: December 9th, 2028
The talk of the week may have been about the Oklahoma Sooners' job opening and Dan Lanning's reported interest, but that didn't stop the Oregon Ducks from dominating the Penn State Nittany Lions 34-24 to clinch their second Big Ten Championship since joining the conference in 2024.
The win is expected to secure the Ducks as the #1 overall seed in the upcoming College Football Playoff.
Texas knocked off LSU to clinch the SEC title, although both programs are expected to hold onto Top-4 seeds, while Clemson handed Miami their second loss of the season in a 31-24 victory for the ACC Championship.
Oregon State's quest for a third straight Pac-12 title was thwarted by Boise State in a 38-9 drubbing.
With the championship weekend settled, all eyes turn to the College Football Playoff committee to see who's in, who's out, and who has the toughest road to Tampa for the 2028 National Championship.
Conference Championship Results
C-USA: 41 Kennesaw State (9-4) vs FIU (10-3) 36
Pac-12: 38 #24 Boise State (9-4) vs #19 Oregon State (9-4) 9
Mountain West: 38 Nevada (8-5) vs New Mexico (7-6) 27
MAC: 13 Toledo (9-4) vs Akron (9-4) 28
Big 12: 34 #10 Arizona State (10-3) vs #13 Texas Tech (10-3) 21
Sun Belt: 28 #20 Coastal Carolina (10-3) vs #12 Louisiana (12-1) 40
SEC: 35 #2 Texas (11-2) vs #4 LSU (11-2) 14
American: 19 USF (8-5) @ #18 Tulane (10-3) 24
Big Ten: 24 #9 Penn State (10-3) vs #1 Oregon (13-0) 34
ACC: 31 #5 Clemson (11-2) vs #6 Miami (11-2) 24
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djp73
- Posts: 12841
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No Father's Son
a loyal coach?
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ShireNiner
- Posts: 1375
- Joined: 29 Sep 2025, 10:06
No Father's Son
Well the entire family can go kick rocks with that Oregon hate. Coach No Balls is afraid to take a top program and the pressure with it.
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Caesar
- Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16222
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
No Father's Son
Knew what his wife was going to do if he said he'd taken that job after she said something to show she was setting down roots
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 5586
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
they still exist, no?
Lest we forget, his desire to beat Oregon and not just hang fueled the discourse with SmithShireNiner wrote: ↑16 Mar 2026, 09:20Well the entire family can go kick rocks with that Oregon hate. Coach No Balls is afraid to take a top program and the pressure with it.
although, taking the Oregon job just to BTA Smith every year would be a helluva finish to it
wife might give him a matching scar on the other hand
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 5586
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
Chapter Thirty-Six: Turn and Burn
When Jessica turned off the TV on Scott Van Pelt, she thought she was ending the conversation about the Oregon Ducks. Instead, she inadvertently left crucial information lying on the table. Information that would have reshaped the conversation we both thought was closed.
We all thought Scott Van Pelt was going to say “Oregon’s Dan Lanning is expected to take the job in Norman.”
He did not.
The actual telecast was: “Oregon’s Dan Lanning is expected to stay in Eugene as well, leaving the Oklahoma Sooners suddenly scrambling for suitors.”
Josh Heupel said no. Then, Dan Lanning followed suit. Washington’s Jedd Fisch, USC’s Lincoln Riley, Notre Dame’s Marcus Freeman, Tulane’s Jon Sumrall; all said no. By the morning of December 9th, hours before the first of the slated Conference Championship games were scheduled to kick off, it had been reported that as many as ten coaches had turned down the Sooners, with some denying to even interview. Apparently, I was No. 11 on their list.
“They’re literally scrambling, Armando. I’ve never seen anything like it,” relayed Harvey on the phone, the excitement evident in his voice. “This is your chance to get fuck you money, like real fuck you money. They’re desperate and you’ve got ‘em by the balls.”
“It’s not about money, Harvey,” I corrected, holding the Pequeño Leon letter in my hand.
What was it really about though? Legacy? Prestige? Proving myself, over and over again? Or was I simply running away before the past could catch up with me.
“Legacy, then,” Harvey reframed, his skills as an agent shining through. “You’ve won at Oregon State, won at Maryland. Those are both places with low expectations. You win at Oklahoma? You’re it, baby. King shit.”
“I’m also the man that preaches building a standard, and bolts at the best opportunity. What makes me better than Lane Kiffin?”
“Lane Kiffin won a National Championship with Texas two years ago. I don’t think anyone in Texas is regretting hiring him away from Ole Miss, do you?”
Perhaps sensing my reservations, even with an entire country between my office in College Park and Harvey’s in Corvallis at the SportsStars offices, Harvey quickly shifted gears to a new selling point.
“Look at it from the family standpoint. You’ve been on the move a lot, even before the kids. Colorado Springs, Havre, Bozeman, Corvallis, now College Park. And I get that may be an incentive to lay low in College Park for a few years, but the schools aren’t going to stop calling.”
Harvey Ross may still be relatively new in his own agency, but his experience with CAA and Jimmy Sexton’s group continued to shine through. He didn’t sell me on the facts, simply put the words out in the open, shed the light on them. He let me do the heavy lifting, taking those facts and seeing them for what they were.
“You go to Oklahoma? The next time you leave is on your terms, ‘cause we both know you’re going to kill it, Armando. You stay at Oklahoma until you retire, or until you get bored. But it’s not another job on the way to the top, it is the top.”
He wasn’t wrong. Tara Lydia and AJ were nearing school age, moving now meant they would be settled in a new house, new community, before they started their elementary years, without the threat of another move uprooting them. I remembered how difficult the constant moving was on me, even as I was homeschooled. It had been a question I’d wrestled with privately for some time, how would I handle potentially new opportunities while maintaining a stable home for the kids. It wasn’t a question my father would even consider—he’d already be on his way to the next opportunity without a second thought of me or my mother.
Harvey had continued to sell the pitch to me on the other line, but I’d tuned him out, leaving him with just enough “uh-huh’s” to make him think he was doing his job as an agent. The conflict wasn’t with the reasoning, it was deeper than that.
How many of my beliefs was I willing to sacrifice for the sake of ambition? Each time I left a program, I was selling it short. I recruited on the principle that I wanted to build something lasting, meaningful, and impactful. I convinced men to plan their futures around my ideas, grown men to uproot their families to strengthen my vision. But, I discredited that point every time I picked up and left someone else to finish what I started. I felt justified at Oregon State. Coach Smith and I simply didn’t see eye to eye on how we wanted to build the Oregon State program, it only made sense to go somewhere I could fully make my own.
So, why leave Maryland. They’d given me full rein to bring in my own coaches, run the program my way. Never asked me to tone down the trash talk with Locksley, the confidence in the media. I hadn’t met with Jim Smith yet about the NIL budget for next year, but with the unprecedented success the program had in my first year, I could only imagine I would want for nothing. It wasn’t like we were a Group of Six school, we had Big Ten money and could flaunt it. Would we contend with the Ohio State and Michigan’s of the world? Maybe not yet, but we were on our way.
It again begged the question, why? The simple answer was, Maryland would always be second to the Ohio State and Michigans of the world. Oklahoma had the potential to be the face of the SEC. It would be moving towards something better, right?
I'd told myself the same thing at Oregon State. And before that, I'd told myself Havre was a stepping stone. There was always a reason. There was always a next thing.
Harvey was still in the middle of another tangent about how I had to strike while the iron was hot, or risk being left in Maryland when I finally spoke back up, cutting him off mid sentence. “Harvey, you can stop pitching it to me, I’m in.”
“But, it isn’t my decision alone.”
Harvey didn’t hide the disappointment in his tone, or with the heavy sigh that preceded the ‘but.’
“Armando, I get it. Jessica and you have a great relationship, built on communication. This isn’t something you can take home and chew on. Oklahoma is panicking. They want to know like, yesterday, if you’re on board or not. They want to fly you out to Norman tonight. Get you in Norman tonight, have a conversation on Sunday, and if everything goes to plan, make an announcement on Monday. Otherwise, they’re going down the list.”
Sunday was when the College Football Playoff committee was going to announce the selections and seeding for the playoff, an event the entire team was scheduled to be at Jones-Hill House to watch together.
“Harvey, I’ve got a team event on Sunday. I can’t just up and get on a plane.”
“Again, Armando, I get it. But, like I said, they’re scrambling. They can’t let this drag on too much longer. Championship week is over and kids are already starting to decide if they’re hitting the portal or not, even if they can’t announce it yet. Oklahoma wants to get ahead of this and not have the fact they can’t find a coach be the narrative going into the offseason, otherwise they’re cooked. This is just how it works. It’s now or never.”
When I didn’t answer immediately, it was evident to Harvey my line had been drawn.
“Alright, shit. How about this. You talk to the missus, I’ll talk to Oklahoma’s AD Roger Denny. See if we can work out a way for you to fly out to Norman tonight, but be back in time for your shindig for the CFP.”
“But, Armando. If I make this call, you’ve got to at least take the flight. No guarantees on the job, but you can’t call me back in an hour and say you ain’t hopping on that plane. I’m giving this man my word if he pulls some strings.”
“That’s all I’m promising Harvey. But if Jessica goes biblical on me, you’re on the hook for finding me a new wife.”
“My man, there isn’t a shortage of hot blondes that are premium milk in Oklahoma, I can assure you of that.”
“Respectfully, of course,” he quickly added, realizing he had made his thoughts on my wife’s appearance evident at the same time. I tried to hold my silence long enough to make him nervous he’d seriously offended me, before breaking out into an uproar, one he quickly joined in on.
In less than an hour, Harvey had his answer. Oklahoma was more than willing to accommodate my desire to be back in College Park by 12pm EST for the ESPN Selection Show. They’d arrange for one of their private planes to pick me up at Reagan Saturday night, spend the morning of Sunday on campus, then fly out of Will Rodgers Airport in OKC at 8am, giving me more than enough time to make it back to Jones-Hill House by the noon kickoff show.
That was the easiest part, however. Convincing Jessica would prove to be more difficult.
“So, you decided all of this yourself, spur of the moment, without considering your family, Armando!?”
To say Jessica was not happy with my last-second flight to Norman would be a massive understatement.
“Hun, they didn’t give me much time to talk to you. They want something done this weekend if it’s going to happen.”
Sensing another fit of rage, I turned from packing my bag on the bed and made my way across the room to where Jessica stood, defiantly leaning against the door frame, one foot in the room, one foot out. Whether the placement of her feet, or posture, was intentional or not was regardless, the meaning wasn’t lost on me.
“Listen,” I said as I leaned down to kiss her, then taking a knee in front of her, consciously ceding the power dynamic. Harvey wasn’t the only one who could negotiate when necessary.
“I didn’t agree to the job, just to visit. I told them it had to fit my schedule, I couldn’t be gone more than a night, and they obliged. Honestly, I thought they’d tell me to pound sand. But now that they didn’t, I can’t just turn around and tell them to pound sand, can I?”
The look in her eyes said I could, and I should if I knew what was best for me. Her voice said another.
“Fine. But we aren’t coming with you, Armando.”
“I didn’t expect you to, Jessica. A turn and burn like this would be too much for the kids. Relax at home and I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Besides, I promised Tara and AJ we’d go and find a Christmas Tree on Sunday, and I’m keeping that promise. I’ll be back in College Park for the Selection Sunday event on campus, then we’re going to pick out trees and Christmas decorations for the yard right after.”
Jessica, it turns out, was a shrewd negotiator too. “Fine, but you have to buy the kids that giant, blowup snowman they asked for last year, to make up for missing half of ‘Family Sunday.’ Or no deal.” She added her best playful smirk at the end, but despite her best efforts, I could tell the flight to Norman didn’t sit right with her. I gave her one last kiss to seal the promise, then retreated down the hall to let the kids know I’d be gone, but reiterating my promise of going tree shopping when I got back.
As I left in the Uber to head to Reagan National, Jessica and the kids stood in the doorway to wave goodbye. Despite still being shoved to the back of my desk in my office at Jones-Hill House, the Pequeño Leon letter resurfaced in my forefront. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was running.
The question was: was I running towards something, or away from something.
When Jessica turned off the TV on Scott Van Pelt, she thought she was ending the conversation about the Oregon Ducks. Instead, she inadvertently left crucial information lying on the table. Information that would have reshaped the conversation we both thought was closed.
We all thought Scott Van Pelt was going to say “Oregon’s Dan Lanning is expected to take the job in Norman.”
He did not.
The actual telecast was: “Oregon’s Dan Lanning is expected to stay in Eugene as well, leaving the Oklahoma Sooners suddenly scrambling for suitors.”
Josh Heupel said no. Then, Dan Lanning followed suit. Washington’s Jedd Fisch, USC’s Lincoln Riley, Notre Dame’s Marcus Freeman, Tulane’s Jon Sumrall; all said no. By the morning of December 9th, hours before the first of the slated Conference Championship games were scheduled to kick off, it had been reported that as many as ten coaches had turned down the Sooners, with some denying to even interview. Apparently, I was No. 11 on their list.
“They’re literally scrambling, Armando. I’ve never seen anything like it,” relayed Harvey on the phone, the excitement evident in his voice. “This is your chance to get fuck you money, like real fuck you money. They’re desperate and you’ve got ‘em by the balls.”
“It’s not about money, Harvey,” I corrected, holding the Pequeño Leon letter in my hand.
What was it really about though? Legacy? Prestige? Proving myself, over and over again? Or was I simply running away before the past could catch up with me.
“Legacy, then,” Harvey reframed, his skills as an agent shining through. “You’ve won at Oregon State, won at Maryland. Those are both places with low expectations. You win at Oklahoma? You’re it, baby. King shit.”
“I’m also the man that preaches building a standard, and bolts at the best opportunity. What makes me better than Lane Kiffin?”
“Lane Kiffin won a National Championship with Texas two years ago. I don’t think anyone in Texas is regretting hiring him away from Ole Miss, do you?”
Perhaps sensing my reservations, even with an entire country between my office in College Park and Harvey’s in Corvallis at the SportsStars offices, Harvey quickly shifted gears to a new selling point.
“Look at it from the family standpoint. You’ve been on the move a lot, even before the kids. Colorado Springs, Havre, Bozeman, Corvallis, now College Park. And I get that may be an incentive to lay low in College Park for a few years, but the schools aren’t going to stop calling.”
Harvey Ross may still be relatively new in his own agency, but his experience with CAA and Jimmy Sexton’s group continued to shine through. He didn’t sell me on the facts, simply put the words out in the open, shed the light on them. He let me do the heavy lifting, taking those facts and seeing them for what they were.
“You go to Oklahoma? The next time you leave is on your terms, ‘cause we both know you’re going to kill it, Armando. You stay at Oklahoma until you retire, or until you get bored. But it’s not another job on the way to the top, it is the top.”
He wasn’t wrong. Tara Lydia and AJ were nearing school age, moving now meant they would be settled in a new house, new community, before they started their elementary years, without the threat of another move uprooting them. I remembered how difficult the constant moving was on me, even as I was homeschooled. It had been a question I’d wrestled with privately for some time, how would I handle potentially new opportunities while maintaining a stable home for the kids. It wasn’t a question my father would even consider—he’d already be on his way to the next opportunity without a second thought of me or my mother.
Harvey had continued to sell the pitch to me on the other line, but I’d tuned him out, leaving him with just enough “uh-huh’s” to make him think he was doing his job as an agent. The conflict wasn’t with the reasoning, it was deeper than that.
How many of my beliefs was I willing to sacrifice for the sake of ambition? Each time I left a program, I was selling it short. I recruited on the principle that I wanted to build something lasting, meaningful, and impactful. I convinced men to plan their futures around my ideas, grown men to uproot their families to strengthen my vision. But, I discredited that point every time I picked up and left someone else to finish what I started. I felt justified at Oregon State. Coach Smith and I simply didn’t see eye to eye on how we wanted to build the Oregon State program, it only made sense to go somewhere I could fully make my own.
So, why leave Maryland. They’d given me full rein to bring in my own coaches, run the program my way. Never asked me to tone down the trash talk with Locksley, the confidence in the media. I hadn’t met with Jim Smith yet about the NIL budget for next year, but with the unprecedented success the program had in my first year, I could only imagine I would want for nothing. It wasn’t like we were a Group of Six school, we had Big Ten money and could flaunt it. Would we contend with the Ohio State and Michigan’s of the world? Maybe not yet, but we were on our way.
It again begged the question, why? The simple answer was, Maryland would always be second to the Ohio State and Michigans of the world. Oklahoma had the potential to be the face of the SEC. It would be moving towards something better, right?
I'd told myself the same thing at Oregon State. And before that, I'd told myself Havre was a stepping stone. There was always a reason. There was always a next thing.
Harvey was still in the middle of another tangent about how I had to strike while the iron was hot, or risk being left in Maryland when I finally spoke back up, cutting him off mid sentence. “Harvey, you can stop pitching it to me, I’m in.”
“But, it isn’t my decision alone.”
Harvey didn’t hide the disappointment in his tone, or with the heavy sigh that preceded the ‘but.’
“Armando, I get it. Jessica and you have a great relationship, built on communication. This isn’t something you can take home and chew on. Oklahoma is panicking. They want to know like, yesterday, if you’re on board or not. They want to fly you out to Norman tonight. Get you in Norman tonight, have a conversation on Sunday, and if everything goes to plan, make an announcement on Monday. Otherwise, they’re going down the list.”
Sunday was when the College Football Playoff committee was going to announce the selections and seeding for the playoff, an event the entire team was scheduled to be at Jones-Hill House to watch together.
“Harvey, I’ve got a team event on Sunday. I can’t just up and get on a plane.”
“Again, Armando, I get it. But, like I said, they’re scrambling. They can’t let this drag on too much longer. Championship week is over and kids are already starting to decide if they’re hitting the portal or not, even if they can’t announce it yet. Oklahoma wants to get ahead of this and not have the fact they can’t find a coach be the narrative going into the offseason, otherwise they’re cooked. This is just how it works. It’s now or never.”
When I didn’t answer immediately, it was evident to Harvey my line had been drawn.
“Alright, shit. How about this. You talk to the missus, I’ll talk to Oklahoma’s AD Roger Denny. See if we can work out a way for you to fly out to Norman tonight, but be back in time for your shindig for the CFP.”
“But, Armando. If I make this call, you’ve got to at least take the flight. No guarantees on the job, but you can’t call me back in an hour and say you ain’t hopping on that plane. I’m giving this man my word if he pulls some strings.”
“That’s all I’m promising Harvey. But if Jessica goes biblical on me, you’re on the hook for finding me a new wife.”
“My man, there isn’t a shortage of hot blondes that are premium milk in Oklahoma, I can assure you of that.”
“Respectfully, of course,” he quickly added, realizing he had made his thoughts on my wife’s appearance evident at the same time. I tried to hold my silence long enough to make him nervous he’d seriously offended me, before breaking out into an uproar, one he quickly joined in on.
In less than an hour, Harvey had his answer. Oklahoma was more than willing to accommodate my desire to be back in College Park by 12pm EST for the ESPN Selection Show. They’d arrange for one of their private planes to pick me up at Reagan Saturday night, spend the morning of Sunday on campus, then fly out of Will Rodgers Airport in OKC at 8am, giving me more than enough time to make it back to Jones-Hill House by the noon kickoff show.
That was the easiest part, however. Convincing Jessica would prove to be more difficult.
“So, you decided all of this yourself, spur of the moment, without considering your family, Armando!?”
To say Jessica was not happy with my last-second flight to Norman would be a massive understatement.
“Hun, they didn’t give me much time to talk to you. They want something done this weekend if it’s going to happen.”
Sensing another fit of rage, I turned from packing my bag on the bed and made my way across the room to where Jessica stood, defiantly leaning against the door frame, one foot in the room, one foot out. Whether the placement of her feet, or posture, was intentional or not was regardless, the meaning wasn’t lost on me.
“Listen,” I said as I leaned down to kiss her, then taking a knee in front of her, consciously ceding the power dynamic. Harvey wasn’t the only one who could negotiate when necessary.
“I didn’t agree to the job, just to visit. I told them it had to fit my schedule, I couldn’t be gone more than a night, and they obliged. Honestly, I thought they’d tell me to pound sand. But now that they didn’t, I can’t just turn around and tell them to pound sand, can I?”
The look in her eyes said I could, and I should if I knew what was best for me. Her voice said another.
“Fine. But we aren’t coming with you, Armando.”
“I didn’t expect you to, Jessica. A turn and burn like this would be too much for the kids. Relax at home and I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Besides, I promised Tara and AJ we’d go and find a Christmas Tree on Sunday, and I’m keeping that promise. I’ll be back in College Park for the Selection Sunday event on campus, then we’re going to pick out trees and Christmas decorations for the yard right after.”
Jessica, it turns out, was a shrewd negotiator too. “Fine, but you have to buy the kids that giant, blowup snowman they asked for last year, to make up for missing half of ‘Family Sunday.’ Or no deal.” She added her best playful smirk at the end, but despite her best efforts, I could tell the flight to Norman didn’t sit right with her. I gave her one last kiss to seal the promise, then retreated down the hall to let the kids know I’d be gone, but reiterating my promise of going tree shopping when I got back.
As I left in the Uber to head to Reagan National, Jessica and the kids stood in the doorway to wave goodbye. Despite still being shoved to the back of my desk in my office at Jones-Hill House, the Pequeño Leon letter resurfaced in my forefront. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was running.
The question was: was I running towards something, or away from something.
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djp73
- Posts: 12841
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
No Father's Son
can’t call it here-
Soapy
- Posts: 15694
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
No Father's Son
no way he leaves already
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ShireNiner
- Posts: 1375
- Joined: 29 Sep 2025, 10:06
No Father's Son
Sox making his character marry a hot blonde with a temper. No way you are escaping the allegations.
He won’t leave but the visit will get out, Maryland will start to turn, recruits see he’s all talk and no substance. World is about to fall apart. Next thing you know, the team is running a train on Jessica and the letter was all a fun hoax.
He won’t leave but the visit will get out, Maryland will start to turn, recruits see he’s all talk and no substance. World is about to fall apart. Next thing you know, the team is running a train on Jessica and the letter was all a fun hoax.