Revolution 21 presents Real American Heroes:
For decades, you've broken down the films of your basketball team's opponents, and you've gotten to drive broken down cars while the pretty boys (and girls) get all the glory, and the Lincoln Continentals . . . and sometimes, get all the luuuuuv, too. Hey! Let 'em run their own damn practices! (It would be a jo-oooooke!)
Twice a week in the winter and spring, for years and years and years now, (That's a lot of ye-ears!) you've sat on the bench holding things together while Mr. Pretty Boy or Miss Alpha Girl jumps up and down, chews on towels, cusses at the refs and gets thrown out of games. (Who'll coach the team? Yoooooou wiiilllllllllll! Call a time out!)
You're the unsung American hero who does all the work and gets . . . squat. You're the last to get hired and the first to take the fall when your boss can't buy a winning season. (It's not my fault! It's hiii-iiis!) But Pokey Chatman got caught lookin' for love in all the wrong places, and a desperate university turns its lonely eyes toward you, Mr. Assistant Coach Man! (Hey, hey, hey!)
And what do you do? (You tell 'em to get screwed!) No, you don't, Mr. Assistant Coach Man. You pick up the baton, you start clearing away the rubble, you pick up the pieces, you begin the process of healing (Can we cut the clichés, now?) . . . and you take the LSU women all the way to the Final Four! (That's amazing!)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. Assistant Coach Man! It's guys like you that make the rockin' world go 'round.
(Mr. Assistant Coach Maaaaaannnn . . . )
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