Clay Henry: Toast Of The Town
I love the access to halftime speeches provided by episodes of “The Follow” on Hogs+. Listening to Sam Pittman sprinkle in about 15 “damns” into his message to his gathered team is priceless.
OK, maybe some things are better off left in the locker room, but I can tolerate worse than that. I’ve heard coach talk all my life and would be surprised if some salty language—much worse than damn—did not take place behind closed doors.
I believe I was 12 the first time my father took me to an Arkansas football practice. We were on the offensive practice field when I realized that the most interesting coaching was coming from Wilson Matthews with the linebackers about 80 yards away.
“Can we go listen to that man?” I asked my father.
The answer was a quiet “no,” but it didn’t stop me from focusing all my attention on Matthews and his string of new words (to me). The odd thing about that came three hours later when we followed the coaches to the dorm cafeteria. It was the first time I’d ever eaten lasagna. I recall a buttered bread that someone referenced as “Texas toast.” Quickly, Matthews provided a correction saltier than the toast.
