Since football is America's sport it's only right to start things off by talking about another of this country's finest institutions: the all you can eat buffet.
If you've ever grabbed some yeast rolls and built a plate at Golden Corral, you know there are two types of buffet aficionados. There's the strategist, the person who comes in with a plan and knows exactly where they're going and why. Some people go crab legs first (but never with hot food...can't let it get cold while you're picking the crabs). Others opt for the premium proteins — your prime ribs, your steaks, your baby back ribs (if it's the fancy location that has them) — and don't fill up on any sides until they plow through the money meats.
And there are some who simply go for quantity, let's call them the edible anarchists. They'll stack pizza on top of tilapia that's next to cole slaw, baked apples and a slice of carrot cake. It's a volume game and they make the most out of what they have. Do they go together? Who cares! You're at an all you can eat buffet, the rules are right there in the name. And who cares if your sweet corn pudding gets all mixed up with the refried beans and taco meat you're saving for that big pile of chips to your left. You wanted it, you got it.
My Corral plan? I'm glad you asked.
To put it in layman's terms, I'm not a mere builder of plates. I am a grand designer of balanced ecosystems. Ones where every flavor makes sense together, station or location be damned. Dumplings, pot pie and mashed potatoes? All aboard the gravy train, baby. Shrimp, fried fish, steak and baked potato? Surf and turf. Ice cream, brownie and some sort of treat out of that mildly-disgusting fondue fountain? We've just made our own killer brownie sundae (with a side of hepatitis and a possible dash of a child's fingernail).
You see, everything is delicious on its own, but it's way more than that now. It's a cohesive system. A symphony of finest flavors that are (probably) microwaved fresh daily. They all come from under their own heat lamps to unify on my overly-washed and brittle plate.
The Virginia Tech football team is in a weird spot. Okay maybe not diatrib-ing about the majesty of a Golden Corral weird, but still weird all the same.
Just 14 months ago Brent Pry announced his first staff, in full. His defense made sense, a former protege in Chris Marve, two alums in J.C. Price and Pierson Prioleau, a solid recruiter with head coaching experience in Shawn Quinn and a good DBs coach with solid regional ties in Derek Jones. It may not have been sexy, but it made sense.
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