After the UCLA football team’s loss to Washington State, my roommate and I were stunned. UCLA had lost to a significantly inferior opponent for the third time this year. But a few hours after this debacle of football odds-making, my roommate said something profound.
“Karl Dorrell is Robin Hood,” he said. “He steals from the rich and gives to the poor.”
No wonder Dorrell kept running the ball up the middle with an injured running back! No wonder he threw the ball with a backup quarterback on fourth-and-one against Notre Dame! No wonder he dismantled USC last year! And let’s not forget Cal two weeks ago. Like Robin of Loxley, Dorrell has sacrificed his reputation and adapted his skill-set in order to bring hope to the downtrodden masses of college football.
Consider Robin and Dorrell in parallel. Both are underrepresented minorities, whether in legend or in college sports. Robin was a disenfranchised noble returned from the Crusades; Dorrell is one of only a handful of black head coaches in the NCAA.
In their prime, both men opposed tyrants. Who is Prince John? None other than that tyrannical and spoiled coach from across town, Pete Carroll. The Sheriff of Nottingham? For empowering Carroll’s phony claim to the college football throne, I suggest broadcaster Brent Musburger or anyone else who still says USC won a national championship in 2003.
Both our heroes have similar followers. Dorrell’s Little John is Big Ben Olson, and the Bruins are Dorrell’s Merry Men. But what about the green tights? Well, blue and gold combine into a nice matte green. Perfect forest camouflage, whether in Sherwood or Westwood.
My roommate and I concluded that those calling for Dorrell’s head have no idea what they are saying. Dump Dorrell? Not a chance. He’s fighting for the rights of all teams, for each little guy out there. What else adequately explains his strange play-calling? His success against powerful teams, such as California or USC? His come-from-behind victories? His outrageous losses against teams everyone else has easily dismantled?
Simply put, the man has a heart of gold. That’s right, gold. The Dorrell bandwagon ““ previously held together by little more than loyalty, hope and the tape that was Kahlil Bell and Brandon Breazell ““ now has unblemished righteousness and charity to its credit. We also have a much better name: The Merry Men.
Still, some might say that Dorrell is besmirching UCLA’s impressive athletic history and enforcing an era of mediocrity by only winning enough big games to appease a lukewarm and flip-flopping fan base. In fact, that’s the very position taken by the growing numbers who want Dorrell fired. While I don’t necessarily disagree with those sentiments, a vote for keeping Dorrell is still a vote for winning records, bowl games and unceasing hope for the underdog.
If Dorrell follows Robin Hood’s legend closely, King Richard should soon return to depose his insidious half-brother and assume the throne. But until basketball season starts, it looks like we’re stuck with only a socio-historic solution to tyranny. That is, waiting for a group of angry and victorious nobles forcing a defeated king to sign a certain document divesting monarchal power into a parliament: the Magna Carta.
So who are these groundbreaking, previously oppressed nobles? The nouveau riche of the Pac-10: the Arizona State Sun Devils. Then there are those who started the downfall of Troy: the Stanford Cardinal. And let’s not forget, of course, that heartbreaking ““ but heartwarming ““ band of Merry Men, who took hope from Westwood and gave it to a small, oppressed village in Pullman, Wash.
For more information on becoming a part of the Merry Men, contact Earnest at jearnest@media.ucla.edu.