Dear. Mr. Petrino

Dear Mr. Petrino,

Woo Pig Sooie!

Congratulations on a great football season last year.

If it wasn’t for those two losses, you would’ve been perfect.

But as it turns out, you were nowhere near perfect.

Hey, we’ve all been there.

Ok, I’ve never made an 18 million dollar mistake.

But I did buy a stock once that lost 20% in one day.

Once.

Does that count?

Hey, I get it.

That girl is hot.

And you are over 50.

And she is under 30.

But come on man.

You were the head football coach at the University of Arkansas.

Riding around that college town.

On a motorcycle.

Without a helmet.

With a 25-year old hot blonde on the back of your bike.

Who do you think you are, Bruce Springsteen?

Born to Run is just a song.

Not a lifestyle.

What the hell are they putting in that Arkansas drinking water anyway?

Slick Willie thinks it’s called the Oral Office.

And now you?

Hey, I get it.

That film room can get awfully cold at night.

And you’re a man.

And a man needs what a man needs.

But in your case, what you needed was a reality check.

Men in Arkansas fool around with women young enough to be their daughter all the time.

Sometimes it might even be their daughter.

It’s Arkansas.

I get it.

Are you the first man to have an affair?

Of course not.

Are you the first man to have an affair with a co-worker?

Of course not.

Are you the first man to have an affair with a co-worker that you hired?

Of course not.

Are you the first man to have an affair with a co-worker that you hired, while she is engaged to somebody else?

Of course not.

Not in Arkansas.

Hey, I get it.

But who taught you how to cover your tracks, John Edwards?

Let’s take a ride down timeline avenue.

And you better wear a helmet.

March 28, 2012:  Jessica Dorrell gets hired as a “student-athlete development coordinator”.

Whatever that is.

Not exactly breaking news.

At the time.

In fact, we probably never would’ve heard of Ms. Dorrell if it wasn’t what took place on April 1.

No foolin.

That was the day you apparently zigged.

When you should’ve zagged.

And that motorcycle accident left you with one whale of a headache.

And a real pain in the neck.

Two days later you step up the mic and you tell the Arkansas media that it’s all good.

Just me and my hog out for a ride.

Nothing to see here.

Actually you’re real words were:

“It was a situation where I don't remember a lot about exactly what happened.”

Did Bill Clinton write that for you?

You don’t remember exactly what happened?

Really?

I guess that short term memory loss was real short.

Because just three days later you said:

"Today, I've acknowledged this previous inappropriate relationship with my family and those within the athletic department administration."

Oh really?

You’ve “acknowledged” it.

To your wife?

And your four kids?

And the athletic department?

Ddi you acknowledge that you gave Dorrell a $20,000 “gift” to buy a car?

We found out about that on April 10.

And did you acknowledge that in the last seven months you and little miss hottie had exchanged 300 phone calls.

And 4,300 text messages.

We found out about that on April 12.

4,300 text messages!

Who are you my 14-year-old daughter?

Amazingly, coming off one of the best football seasons in school history, the University of Arkansas had seen enough.

Just nine days after you stepped out over the line.

In that chrome wheeled, fuel injected, suicide machine.

The school ripped the bones from your back.

And your neck too.

Fired.

With cause.

You and that tramp may have been born to run.

But the Razorbacks wanted nothing to do with it.

On April 10, Jeff Long, the school’s athletic director, said:

“Coach Petrino engaged in a pattern of misleading and manipulative behavior designed to deceive me and members of the athletic staff, both before and after the motorcycle accident.”

Gone in 60 seconds.

Actually nine days.

Now as part of your contract, the school would owe you a cool $18 Million if they fired you.

And under normal circumstances Judge Judy probably would’ve given it to you.

But there is nothing normal here.

Instead of dragging this thing out.

And with your hand firmly implanted in that cookie jar.

You finally did the right thing.

For once.

You did the walk of shame.

Waiving the right to challenge the firing.

And waiving the right to all that money.

That you didn't deserve.

After all, you are no longer a Hog.

You are now just a Pig.