puddleofmudd

Can someone help West Hardin AD find him an assistant coach. This job is posted everyday.
 
Assist the football program and coach 2 additional sports. OL experience preferred but not required. Great classroom situation for a coach. This can be SPED or Health. We bring back 9 starters on Offense and 9 on Defense and dropped from 2a Div. 1 to 2a Div. 2.  

This post has potential of being an all-time epic post.

Can someone help West Hardin AD find him an assistant coach. This job is posted everyday.
 
Assist the football program and coach 2 additional sports. OL experience preferred but not required. Great classroom situation for a coach. This can be SPED or Health. We bring back 9 starters on Offense and 9 on Defense and dropped from 2a Div. 1 to 2a Div. 2.  

1965 Polk High team. I remember watching Al Bundy score 5 touchdowns in one game.

1965 Polk High team. I remember watching Al Bundy score 5 touchdowns in one game.

1965 Polk High team. I remember watching Al Bundy score 5 touchdowns in one game.

very interesting match up. This could be the game of the week. 

Lee wins by 7, Ganders throw a turd in the homecoming punch bowl.

This thread is about the Westbury and Lee game. Let's not get off topic. Congrats to Lee.

I went to the scrimmage. I also went to the Sterling scrimmage versus Ozen. Believe it of not Lee looked the most physical out of all 3 Baytown Teams. Lee is running the Slot T this year and moved the ball up and down the field. Watch out Sterling my vote is that Lee will win that 50th anniversary game that's been hyped up.

I just saw that. What a load of crap. Head coach did a great job for the team, town, and community. Not his fault that talent is scarce. Sometimes a man shouldn't be judged by wins and losses but by character and heart.  I just do not get these small towns. I'm sure the coach won't have a hard time finding a job. 

I just saw that. What a load of crap. Head coach did a great job for the team, town, and community. Not his fault that talent is scarce. Sometimes a man shouldn't be judged by wins and losses but by character and heart.  I just do not get these small towns. I'm sure the coach won't have a hard time finding a job. 

I don't think this thread needs to turn into a pissing contest. Congrats to EC on a perfect season, and I know you feel underated. Congrats to Hardin for turning nothing into a something season. Both towns should be proud. Both teams have improved. 

I don't think this thread needs to turn into a pissing contest. Congrats to EC on a perfect season, and I know you feel underated. Congrats to Hardin for turning nothing into a something season. Both towns should be proud. Both teams have improved. 

Hemphill will win this one. They have a great passionate coach who is truly in it for the kids. The team that plays the hardest and makes the fewest mistakes will win the game. Good luck JBL. 
T.I.T.W.S.I.H.E.S.

Lee will catch some team sleeping and over confident.

Have you ever watched The Ringling and Barnum and Bailey Circus and dribbled your dinner down the front of your finest shirt as your brain completely shuts down from the overload of inanity? That’s me right now, numbed by a season of football pain.

Technically, all is not yet lost. If my team wins by a handsome margin Friday night and the two teams above them lose, and Jupiter crashes into Uranus, and Hillary Clinton somehow becomes president after losing the election and four other teams forfeit due to playing ineligible players then maybe we could have a fighting chance of making the playoffs.

Won’t happen, but.

As surely as it’s bad grammar to put a conjunction at the end of a sentence, my team will play no part in the Texas High School Playoffs.

As surely as the Republican Party will contest the next presidential election, my team will contest a completely pointless match this weekend which is bound to end in ignominy.

It’s over. Kaput. Because of all this, I can’t really think of a reason to get out of bed anymore.

Oh, I’ll squeeze a week or two out of the blame game to keep me going. That game is reaching fever pitch at this very moment on many online forums, which is more than you can say for any game my football team played this year.

Blaming stuff is more fun than chasing seagulls. It’s the coach’s fault for being stale, the senior players’ fault for not setting the right example, the young players’ fault for not improving quickly enough, the club CEO’s fault for not commanding the respect of the boardroom, yada yada yada.

Personally, I blame the janitor. His skill set was a little dusty this year and he just didn’t get as many garbage disposals as usual.

I suppose I could look inwards for fulfillment. As an unhealthy middle-aged and increasingly flabby suburban father, what don’t I have to look forward to?

Seriously, there is much more of importance in my life than the performance of a team.

There’s… umm… well there’s… y’know… umm… umm… other sport!

Oh, who am I kidding? Life without my team in the football playoffs is a whirling maelstrom of despair, a predicament as bleak and meaningless as low budget Ben Affleck film.

Still, I suppose things could be worse. I could be a soccer fan…

I heard since they switched from their school colors from navy to blue, they have been winning more games. Who would of thought that would work. I suggest other schools doing the same thing. Maybe like if Hull-Dasietta changed theirs to purple maybe the glory days will return.
 
 

Have you ever watched The Ringling and Barnum and Bailey Circus and dribbled your dinner down the front of your finest shirt as your brain completely shuts down from the overload of inanity? That’s me right now, numbed by a season of football pain.

Technically, all is not yet lost. If my team wins by a handsome margin Friday night and the two teams above them lose, and Jupiter crashes into Uranus, and Hillary Clinton somehow becomes president after losing the election and four other teams forfeit due to playing ineligible players then maybe we could have a fighting chance of making the playoffs.

Won’t happen, but.

As surely as it’s bad grammar to put a conjunction at the end of a sentence, my team will play no part in the Texas High School Playoffs.

As surely as the Republican Party will contest the next presidential election, my team will contest a completely pointless match this weekend which is bound to end in ignominy.

It’s over. Kaput. Because of all this, I can’t really think of a reason to get out of bed anymore.

Oh, I’ll squeeze a week or two out of the blame game to keep me going. That game is reaching fever pitch at this very moment on many online forums, which is more than you can say for any game my football team played this year.

Blaming stuff is more fun than chasing seagulls. It’s the coach’s fault for being stale, the senior players’ fault for not setting the right example, the young players’ fault for not improving quickly enough, the club CEO’s fault for not commanding the respect of the boardroom, yada yada yada.

Personally, I blame the janitor. His skill set was a little dusty this year and he just didn’t get as many garbage disposals as usual.

I suppose I could look inwards for fulfillment. As an unhealthy middle-aged and increasingly flabby suburban father, what don’t I have to look forward to?

Seriously, there is much more of importance in my life than the performance of a team.

There’s… umm… well there’s… y’know… umm… umm… other sport!

Oh, who am I kidding? Life without my team in the football playoffs is a whirling maelstrom of despair, a predicament as bleak and meaningless as low budget Ben Affleck film.

Still, I suppose things could be worse. I could be a soccer fan…

Have you ever watched The Ringling and Barnum and Bailey Circus and dribbled your dinner down the front of your finest shirt as your brain completely shuts down from the overload of inanity? That’s me right now, numbed by a season of football pain.

Technically, all is not yet lost. If my team wins by a handsome margin Friday night and the two teams above them lose, and Jupiter crashes into Uranus, and Hillary Clinton somehow becomes president after losing the election and four other teams forfeit due to playing ineligible players then maybe we could have a fighting chance of making the playoffs.

Won’t happen, but.

As surely as it’s bad grammar to put a conjunction at the end of a sentence, my team will play no part in the Texas High School Playoffs.

As surely as the Republican Party will contest the next presidential election, my team will contest a completely pointless match this weekend which is bound to end in ignominy.

It’s over. Kaput. Because of all this, I can’t really think of a reason to get out of bed anymore.

Oh, I’ll squeeze a week or two out of the blame game to keep me going. That game is reaching fever pitch at this very moment on many online forums, which is more than you can say for any game my football team played this year.

Blaming stuff is more fun than chasing seagulls. It’s the coach’s fault for being stale, the senior players’ fault for not setting the right example, the young players’ fault for not improving quickly enough, the club CEO’s fault for not commanding the respect of the boardroom, yada yada yada.

Personally, I blame the janitor. His skill set was a little dusty this year and he just didn’t get as many garbage disposals as usual.

I suppose I could look inwards for fulfillment. As an unhealthy middle-aged and increasingly flabby suburban father, what don’t I have to look forward to?

Seriously, there is much more of importance in my life than the performance of a team.

There’s… umm… well there’s… y’know… umm… umm… other sport!

Oh, who am I kidding? Life without my team in the football playoffs is a whirling maelstrom of despair, a predicament as bleak and meaningless as low budget Ben Affleck film.

Still, I suppose things could be worse. I could be a soccer fan…

Have you ever watched The Ringling and Barnum and Bailey Circus and dribbled your dinner down the front of your finest shirt as your brain completely shuts down from the overload of inanity? That’s me right now, numbed by a season of football pain.

Technically, all is not yet lost. If my team wins by a handsome margin Friday night and the two teams above them lose, and Jupiter crashes into Uranus, and Hillary Clinton somehow becomes president after losing the election and four other teams forfeit due to playing ineligible players then maybe we could have a fighting chance of making the playoffs.

Won’t happen, but.

As surely as it’s bad grammar to put a conjunction at the end of a sentence, my team will play no part in the Texas High School Playoffs.

As surely as the Republican Party will contest the next presidential election, my team will contest a completely pointless match this weekend which is bound to end in ignominy.

It’s over. Kaput. Because of all this, I can’t really think of a reason to get out of bed anymore.

Oh, I’ll squeeze a week or two out of the blame game to keep me going. That game is reaching fever pitch at this very moment on many online forums, which is more than you can say for any game my football team played this year.

Blaming stuff is more fun than chasing seagulls. It’s the coach’s fault for being stale, the senior players’ fault for not setting the right example, the young players’ fault for not improving quickly enough, the club CEO’s fault for not commanding the respect of the boardroom, yada yada yada.

Personally, I blame the janitor. His skill set was a little dusty this year and he just didn’t get as many garbage disposals as usual.

I suppose I could look inwards for fulfillment. As an unhealthy middle-aged and increasingly flabby suburban father, what don’t I have to look forward to?

Seriously, there is much more of importance in my life than the performance of a team.

There’s… umm… well there’s… y’know… umm… umm… other sport!

Oh, who am I kidding? Life without my team in the football playoffs is a whirling maelstrom of despair, a predicament as bleak and meaningless as low budget Ben Affleck film.

Still, I suppose things could be worse. I could be a soccer fan…

Have you ever watched The Ringling and Barnum and Bailey Circus and dribbled your dinner down the front of your finest shirt as your brain completely shuts down from the overload of inanity? That’s me right now, numbed by a season of football pain.

Technically, all is not yet lost. If my team wins by a handsome margin Friday night and the two teams above them lose, and Jupiter crashes into Uranus, and Hillary Clinton somehow becomes president after losing the election and four other teams forfeit due to playing ineligible players then maybe we could have a fighting chance of making the playoffs.

Won’t happen, but.

As surely as it’s bad grammar to put a conjunction at the end of a sentence, my team will play no part in the Texas High School Playoffs.

As surely as the Republican Party will contest the next presidential election, my team will contest a completely pointless match this weekend which is bound to end in ignominy.

It’s over. Kaput. Because of all this, I can’t really think of a reason to get out of bed anymore.

Oh, I’ll squeeze a week or two out of the blame game to keep me going. That game is reaching fever pitch at this very moment on many online forums, which is more than you can say for any game my football team played this year.

Blaming stuff is more fun than chasing seagulls. It’s the coach’s fault for being stale, the senior players’ fault for not setting the right example, the young players’ fault for not improving quickly enough, the club CEO’s fault for not commanding the respect of the boardroom, yada yada yada.

Personally, I blame the janitor. His skill set was a little dusty this year and he just didn’t get as many garbage disposals as usual.

I suppose I could look inwards for fulfillment. As an unhealthy middle-aged and increasingly flabby suburban father, what don’t I have to look forward to?

Seriously, there is much more of importance in my life than the performance of a team.

There’s… umm… well there’s… y’know… umm… umm… other sport!

Oh, who am I kidding? Life without my team in the football playoffs is a whirling maelstrom of despair, a predicament as bleak and meaningless as low budget Ben Affleck film.

Still, I suppose things could be worse. I could be a soccer fan…

who cares, HD will never be what they were in the 80's and 90's. Town is drying up. Go West Hardin

who cares, HD will never be what they were in the 80's and 90's. Town is drying up. Go West Hardin

Great Hire!!! I hope they untie his hands and let him do his job