Eleven Warriors

A severe looking man with a buzz cut bursts into a talent agent's office. The talent agent looks warily at the man as he introduces himself. "RR is the name and boy do I have an act for you! A stupendous act, filled with highs and lows (mostly lows)! You'll laugh and cry and hope and dream and as you witness the thrills chills and spills of my fabulous troupe of amaaaaaaazing footballers, yes you will. Yessir, nothing quite like the terror and excitement of watching a tiny man against giant odds! Injuries upon injuries! Scandal and intrigue! And YOU sir, yes you, can be our patron saint and finance our high flying NCAA defying craziest game on turf!" The agent's interest is piqued. "Go on..." "Thank you sir, very well. It all begins with a humiliating loss..." "An arrogant football program takes the field against a team from deep in the mountains. Some kind of goofy name, Transylvaniastan, Keokuk, Appalachian something or other. Doesn't matter. Anyway, the big guys lose. But they don't just lose, they lose after almost coming back to win but then their field goal is blocked and oh Lord it's just too funny. The rest of the season is pretty uneventful, their RB (a goofy trash talker who isn't nearly as good as his reputation) ends up riding more yards on a stationary bike than rushing for yards on the field, they lose to their rival, and they somehow win against Jesus' second cousin twice removed.

So then their coach, this mean, crotchety old man who looks like he's constantly auditioning for a role in A Christmas Carol, retires so they have to find a new coach, right? So their Athletic Director rides around on a boat for a while and a magic fish tells him to hire... me! So here I come in, all loud and obnoxious, like Rodney Dangerfield in Caddyshack except more cursing and worse clothes. God it's hilarious! Anyway, the next year: the team is awful. So, so bad. Amazingly bad. Classic riches-to-rags story. We lose to a team called the Rockets, comprised mostly of 5th graders with rickets, and at the end of the season we lose again to our rivals in a game that we unsuccessfully try to have defined as a war crime by the International Criminal Court. But Roadrunner and Coyote cartoons aren't nearly as funny if the Coyote doesn't get up from being hit by all those anvils, so the next year I tell everyone I have a secret weapon. But! The secret weapon turns out to be a malnourished nine year old I lured away from his orphanage with candy and the promise of headphones! FUNNY! But for a while, this malnourished orphan kid looks pretty good, we even win our first four games! It looks something like this:

Okay, but see, right AFTER that, the team stinks again. The orphan eats too much candy and can't throw footballs anymore, our defense becomes addicted to horse tranquilizers, and we end up losing to everybody by like a billion points. All of this is of course very funny but THEN during the offseason I decide to make the team run extra laps to make them better instead of just giving them steroids like all my SEC friends keep telling me to do and get into aaalll kinds of trouble with the mean ol NCAA.

So we have a Benny Hill type chase scene for about four or five months but OH NO in the meantime the football throwing orphan gets really lazy and literally every decent player gets injured and then this hippie starts to post pictures of otters on his webzone because that's the only way he can process the information and all hope is lost and there is much gnashing of teeth AND WE HAVEN'T EVEN PLAYED THE NEXT SEASON YET!! AHAHAHAHA GOOD LORD MY SIDES ARE SPLITTING!"

...

The agent sits back in his chair, impressed. "So what do you call your act?" he asks. RR pauses, and then jumps toward the desk, arms spread, and shouts: "THE WOLVERINES!" "Okay. How many wins do you think you can give me?" "Oh, probably no more than 5 or 6." "NEXT."