"Walker? Walker!" Scott Widman, the director of Princeton University's athletic affairs department, walked out of the car. Without looking to see if the car was parked, he held his cell phone in both hands and hurried toward his office.
"Listen! You don't have to be so excited! Come back! I know you're still in New York! We need you! You are our hope! Those kids are waiting for you to lead them to victory! Damn it's still snowing in Boston! You don't think
Go there and turn your nose red from the cold and turn into a circus clown!”
If you just look at Scott Weidman's sad expression at this time, no one can imagine that this guy took Walker Glenn's resignation letter with a cold face two days ago and even said goodbye to him.
On the other end of the phone, Walkergren's voice was filled with resentment and joy:
"Scott! Go to hell with your Princeton! You chose the latter between me and that old guy Elwin, and now, God will punish you for doing the wrong multiple choice question! I just want to be the team's captain."
Coach, but you, and that old guy are trying to kill me! Now, what do you think I should do? I have already booked tickets for the first NCAA game of the Princeton Tigers, and I will hold popcorn and watch what you do here
Cry on the court! Goodbye! Mr. Mahon from Boston University is waiting to see me!"
"Walker! Walker! We can discuss everything...shit! May the cold weather in Boston freeze your nose off! Damn Kentucky bastard!" Scott Weidman growled in a low voice!
He walked quickly towards his office. Usually, he would always slow down and enjoy the excellent scenery of Princeton University as much as possible. But now, this scenery has become a resentment in his heart. Why does the damn school block the road?
The cultivation process is so tortuous!
He pushed open the office door forcefully, startling the assistant Aquinara who was sorting out information inside and stared blankly at his boss with blood-red eyes standing at the door.
"Hera! Where is the note with the phone number and name that Erwin gave me a few days ago? I remember I put it in the office! Find him right away!" Scott Weidman ignored himself
The assistant was stunned, strode into his own office, and spoke very fast.
Chris Aquinara, nicknamed Hera, hurriedly stood up from his seat, walked to Scott Weidman and said: "What happened? Mr. Weidman? Why don't you call Scott again?"
Could Mr. Na ask?"
While rummaging through his desk, Scott said without raising his head: "Because Erwin Turner just entered the hospital and is unconscious!"
"Oh my God!" Hera covered her mouth and tried to swallow the surprised voice, but she still couldn't control it. Erwin Turner, the basketball head coach of the Princeton University Tigers, and today, he is the head coach of the NCAA Princeton University.
In the first game, assistant coach Walker Glenn was fired just the day before yesterday, which means that the Princeton Tigers are likely to play a game without a head coach.
"Hera, why don't you stand there in surprise and help me find that note right away! That was what Erwin wrote to me the day before yesterday, saying that the guy above is the best candidate for assistant coach. If we find him, the result will not be
That sucks! At least I won’t be blamed by Principal Shirley Tillman!” Scott said while rummaging through the files on the table.
Hera immediately woke up, walked to the bookcase and rummaged through the books, trying to find the precious note that might be stuck in a certain book.
"What's that guy's name? He seems to be Blake Dulon. Damn it, the name is not important. Phone number!" Scott muttered unconsciously as he opened the drawer.
Hera, on the other hand, rummaged through each book, trying to find any paper products similar to sticky notes. Unfortunately, so far, she has only found an out-of-print NFL star card...
"Wow!" Hera picked up the nearly brand-new star card and said, "It's OJ Simpson! I can't believe you actually own this star card!"
Scott Weidman seemed to have forgotten to continue looking for the note, and came over to take the card and said:
"Oh my god! I've been looking for it for so long! I thought I had completely lost it! How did you find it? Hera!"
Hera pointed to a book on the bookshelf, shook her head and said, "You hid it in Catch-22."
"I love Joseph Heller (the author of Catch-22)! He kept this star card for me for at least three years!" Scott Weidman said, touching the star card carefully.
Soon, Hera woke up from the joy of recovery and said: "Scott, that note..."
"Oh! Mygad!" The OJ Simpson star card, which was extremely cherished just a second ago, was randomly stuffed into a book by Scott Weidman. It seems that it will probably stay there for another three years before it is discovered, because
Its owner threw himself at the drawer and started rummaging again!
Just when the two men were about to tear down the ceiling of the office, a rhythmic knocking on the door sounded.
"Come in!" Chris Aquinara said without raising his head.
The door opened, and Scott Weidman took the time to look up. A handsome-looking young man stood at the door, looking at the two people and the messy office in surprise.
"Kid! What's the matter? Now is not a good time to apply for sports activities! I suggest you come back later!" Scott Weidman said casually without stopping, continuing to rummage with Hera.
"This looks good. It looks more like a battlefield than the war-torn Kandahar and Kosovo. What happened? Kryptonians attacked you?" The young man stood outside the door with his arms folded and asked in a calm tone.
"Hey!" Scott Weidman straightened up and emphasized his tone to the young man with a clean crew cut: "If you still want to apply for sports activities! Just shut your mouth! Otherwise, I bet! You are in Princeton.
I have absolutely no chance to participate in any sports activities during my college life!”
After saying that, Scott Weidman opened the last drawer. If the damn note is not found in this drawer, then just like Walker Glenn said, he and the Princeton Tigers are going to hell.
"Damn! Damn! Come out! Blake Duron!" Scott Weidman roared in a low voice with some despair!
"Dong dong dong!" The young man knocked on the wide open door twice, and Scott Weidman's anger was suddenly aroused!
He pushed up the drawer and walked towards the young man, saying as he walked: "You want to provoke me, right? You are a supporter of that damn Walker Glenn!"
Although the young man opposite looked strong, Widman was not worried. Although he was fifty-one years old, his years of sports activities made him think that he could even kill a bull with his bare hands!
The young man grinned: "I heard you are looking for someone? His name is Blake Dulong, right? An assistant coach?"
Scott Weidman was stunned for a moment, and the next second, he walked quickly in front of the young man, tried his best to put on a smile and said: "Do you know this person? Tell me! Boy! Where is he! How to find him!"
As long as you tell me where he is, even if you plan to join the cheerleading team, I will approve it!"
Although Scott Weidman tried his best to put on a smile, he actually looked more like a veteran drug lord who couldn't wait to show his fangs, as if he would kill the young man opposite him in the next second.
The young man stretched out his left hand and said to Scott Weidman: "My name should not be Blake Dolan, but Blake Dolan. Nice to meet you, Mr. Weidman."
