While we weren't there, we can certainly pretend that we were present last Wednesday when University of Kansas football coach Terry Allen got the news.
"Coach Allen, one of your assistants is here to see you."
"Thanks," Allen replied. "Send him on in."
"Hey coach," the assistant said as he walked into the coach's office. "Sorry to interrupt you while you were going over the scouting reports, but it's important."
"OK, have a seat. What's up?"
"Well, coach... um, a player was arrested last night..."
"WHAT! Oh my goodness. What happened? I mean, who was it?"
"Dion Rayford."
"Our starting defensive end? Jeez, what the hell did he do?"
The assistant coach remained silent, with a strange look on his face. It wasn't a worried look, really, but more of a perplexed, distressed look, as if he had a serious case of indigestion.
"Come on, WHAT THE HELL WAS HE ARRESTED FOR?"
"Coach, are you sitting down?"
"Of COURSE I am sitting down. Are you blind?"
"Well, coach, they've already released Rayford on his own recognizance. He's only charged with misdemeanors."
"WHAT THE HELL DID HE DO?"
"Well, he's charged with disorderly conduct, property damage, and having an open container of alcohol."
"Good Lord. Where the heck was Rayford, and what DID he DO?"
"Well, coach, he was at a Taco Bell."
"What the HELL DID HE DO???"
"Um, you're sitting down, right."
"YOU CAN FREAKING SEE I AM SITTING DOWN. TELL ME WHAT HE DID!"
"Um... oh... well, Rayford was getting some food from the drive-thru window."
"Yeah, and???"
"They left something out of his order."
"OK. But what DID HE DO?????"
"Well, they say he supposedly got ticked and tried to climb through the window."
"WHAT?"
"Police say Rayford tried to climb through the window. I swear to God, coach."
Allen shook his head, rubbing his brow. "Then what?"
"Coach, are you sitting down--"
"THEN WHAT HAPPENED?"
"Well, coach, he got stuck. The window frame broke, and he got stuck."
"Stuck? Rayford got STUCK?"
"Yeah, coach. He's a big guy. 270 pounds."
"Oh, my LORD. You're telling me my best lineman, days before his last college game, got stuck in a Taco Bell window, broke it, and was ARRESTED?"
"Um... coach, are you OK? Your face looks a little red."
Allen let out a heavy sigh. His head was buried in his hands, but he looked up at his assistant coach, made eye contact, and said: "One more question."
The assistant was clearly concerned. "What?"
"What in the heck was left out of Rayford's order that was so damn important."
"Don't make me say it coach."
"TELL ME!" Allen was shrieking. He was afraid he knew the answer already--he'd seen those annoying commercials with the Chihuahua a million times--but he needed confirmation.
The assistant let out a sigh, and looked away. "A chalupa."
Right then and there, a football coach cried. At least, that is our guess; we weren't there, but we can imagine that Allen cried knowing that his best lineman, whom he would suspend for the last game, would have all his name in every newspaper in the country. Because his best lineman wigged out when, at that Taco Bell, the employees dropped the chalupa.
And I speak for humor columnists everywhere when I say, to Dion Rayford: Thank you. We're sorry you were arrested and suspended, but thank you for making this week an easy one. Almost too easy...
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan who is proud to say that he has no clue what a chalupa tastes like. His column appears here Tuesdays, and he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org.