Prefatory Note: After re-reading this I get the impression it might make me look extremely petty. To those perpetual sticks in the mud I say this: Like you’ve never enjoyed a healthy bit of schadenfreude before. Laugh a little.—CLS

Chief Deputy Ernesto Miranda has a nice ring to it, the man mused as he parked his car in the brand new “Employee of the Month” parking space at the Mud Lick, Alabama Sheriff’s Department. The title, parking space and pay raise he’d just earned all came after a recent stellar performance evaluation and some heavy arguing on Miranda’s part that civilians needed a clear demarcation between Sheriff Templeton’s second in command—him—and the rest of the rank and file at the Department. Sheriff Roy, always a believer in order in the chain of command, saw merit in the argument.

Whistling as he stepped through the front door, he greeted the Sergeant on duty at the desk, who returned the greeting with a nervous half-smile. This caught Miranda’s attention.

“Is something wrong, Sergeant?”

“It’s the Sheriff, Chief Deputy Miranda. He’s not been right since that…unpleasantness…what happened Saturday night in Nashville.”

Miranda’s eyes widened. He’d been in Fayetteville over the weekend with a date and hadn’t paid attention to any other college football games. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The Tide didn’t…”

“They did,” she whispered with a hint of terror in her eye. “The folks on the Twitter are calling this the “Revenge of the Nerds.” Say it’s the biggest win in Vanderbilt athletics history.”

“And Sheriff Roy’s been here since?”

“Sunday morning. He’s been out at the range ever since.”

This puzzled Chief Deputy Miranda. “We don’t have a range here at the department.”

A glint of fear crossed the Desk Sergeant’s eye. “We do now,” she said with a whisper.

Chief Deputy Miranda started running for the back lot as soon as the gunshots began.

Sheriff Roy Templeton was clearly in a bad mood. He’d taken his “Tide through The Ages” and “Accomplishments of Nick Saban” series of collectible plates from The Bradford Exchange and arranged them in neat rows on four makeshift racks. He aimed with deliberation at each, pulled the trigger on his service revolver, and cursed loudly when his target blew to smithereens.

Though it’s hard to describe such a scene, dear reader, your humble author shall attempt the feat. As Chief Deputy Miranda neared, he heard something that sounded like this.

BLAM

“Fuck Diego Pavia.”

BLAM

“Kalen DeBoer can kiss my ass.”

BLAM

“Pat McAfee is a tool. Fuck him too.”

BLAM

Repeat ad nauseam, friends. Chief Deputy Miranda approached the scene with caution, waited until the Sheriff stopped firing, and then said “Sheriff? You okay boss?”

“I’m okay, Chief Deputy,” Sheriff Roy replied. “I’ll be okay when I finish putting bullets in all of these collector plates. Then I’m going to take that Mossberg on the table next to me and I’m going to ventilate Arlene’s collection of Crimson Tide Teddy Bears. And I’ll be okay as I do that. Then I’ll be okay when I decide to destroy something else Alabama Football related I own.”

“Not the plates, Sheriff Roy! I remember when you won those Ebay bids!”

BLAM.

“They lost to goddamn Vanderbilt, Miranda.”

“I heard from the Desk Sergeant. Sorry about that.”

BLAM.

“You weren’t watching the game?”

“No sir. I was on a date.”

BLAM.

“Coach Saban would’ve never lost that game. Hell it was just a couple of weeks ago he said on College Gameday ‘The only place in the SEC that’s not hard to play is Vanderbilt.’ Then Kalen DeBoer—Coach Saban’s hand-picked replacement—goes and loses to Vanderbilt.”

“And this is a bad thing, right?”

BLAM BLAM BLAM.

“Chief Deputy Miranda, there’s certain standards that come with a person’s specific job title. Take yours for example. Being my “Chief Deputy” means you’re at the bare minimum expected to conform your behavior on the job to the highest ethical standards possible. You speak for me and when I’m not there I need you to conduct yourself accordingly.”

BLAM.

“A base standard to be an SEC Football coach is that you beat Vanderbilt. A loss like this isn’t just a loss, Chief Deputy. It’s job-disqualifying. DeBoer legitimately should be fired for this.”

BLAM.

“Tennessee lost too, Sheriff.”

“Not to Vanderbilt, though. And the Volunteers don’t have the standard of excellence the Alabama Crimson Tide does.”

“Sheriff, you’ve still got the Tennessee game to look forward to this month.”

BLAM.

“In a game that should be a walk-off for the Tide. Now there’s a good chance this is must win for Alabama or Tennessee will eliminate them from the Playoffs. Imagine that! Tennessee eliminating the Tide from the CFP!”

“Sheriff, is this really worth getting so bent out of shape over?”

BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM.

“Chief Deputy Miranda, one important thing about life is that it craves order. Just like this great nation of ours craves the rule of law and order and I crave a steak burger from Freddy’s on Fridays, college football craves order. And part of that order involves teams like Alabama’s beating up on rich nerds like Vanderbilt.”

Sheriff Roy’s plates destroyed, he proceeded to string up three teddy bears dressed in crimson and houndstooth from a clothesline.

“Sheriff, what about the money that’s coming into college ball these days? You’ve got whole collectives of rich folks paying these kids as much as seven figures now to play ball. Maybe we should start expecting chaos in college ball and make ‘any given Saturday’ a thing now?”

The sheriff racked the Mossberg and took aim at the first bear.

“Maybe for other trash conferences like the Big Ten. But the SEC needs consistency. And Bama losing to Vanderbilt ain’t it.”

“Come on, boss. Let’s put the shotgun down and go to the Circle A diner for some coffee and pie. It’ll be on me. I did a wager on the FanDuel this weekend and won.”

“Was it on the Tennessee game? I’m sure you did clean up.”

Chief Deputy Miranda almost decided to own up to drunkenly placing a money-line wager on Vanderbilt while out with his date Friday night.

Then he decided part of the perks of his new position included him keeping his personal and professional lives separate, and kept his mouth shut.