Et tu, Brute?

Sometime late yesterday afternoon, the news broke in the Reynolds household and across the country that He Who Must Not Be Named was leaving the University of Tennessee for some school in Mexico or something. Shortly after that, Kyle announced that he would be having a press conference at 7:00 pm. I was not allowed to bring this press conference to you live, nor was I allowed to ask questions. At 7:00 pm, Kyle read the following statement to the family:

"There is a situation that requires my full attention. I have enjoyed being a vocal and involved member of this family, and I would not abandon this family for anything other than this particular situation. But, you know, see ya."

He then abruptly left the room. After a day and a half of searching, we discovered this scene:

As you can see, a media center has been hastily put together in our house. Two computers, a cell phone, and a TV are constantly in use at one time. Websites are monitored. There have been hushed conversations. Loud conversations. Yelling. There has been hashing, re-hashing, and re-re-hashing. Endless debating about the merits of this coach or that coach. Our children have learned new curse words. Kyle emerged briefly to teach Scotlen to say "Boo Lane Kiffin, you TRAITOR." Thesaurus searches have been executed on the following words: jerk, d-bag, traitor, Judas, loser, classless, heartless, coward, backstabber, betrayer, deserter, double-crosser, miscreant, turncoat, two-timer.

It's been a good teaching moment, though, because we've seen all the stages - shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining, depression, reflection, and loneliness.

It's been rough, but in the past few hours, we've reached the upward turn - reconstruction and working through, and finally acceptance and hope. I know we've reached the turning point because I'm pretty sure UT is running the search for a new coach through our house. Nothing else can explain the kind of around-the-clock attention that is being paid to this matter. I mean, it would be silly to spend all this time on an issue when you don't really have any control over the outcome, right? Right? Hello?

So last time around, Mike Hamilton ran the search out of a hotel room in Atlanta. This time, an obscure residence in Gallatin. Once I figured this out, I cornered Kyle as he dashed out of the office to go to the bathroom and asked the following questions: (1) How could you recruit us into this family and then ditch us like this - your son is just a recent enrollee and feels so betrayed?, (2) What is the status of your coaching search?, (3) Is it a conflict of interest for you to be running this search when you have so clearly worshipped at the altar of Mike Leach for so many years, (4) Do you really think Curtis Strange can coach football - he couldn't even coach a Ryder Cup team?, (5) If you don't get this hire right, are you afraid that Todd will try to remove you from the family?

Here's what I got:

"I'm sorry, I can't be on television in this unaccessorized disaster of an outfit."

I hope Kyle and Mike Hamilton finish their search soon, for the sake of the University and this family.