U men’s basketball coach Rick Majerus has been living a double-life, and no, it does not involve him working for a high end male escort service, as many have speculated.
Instead, when not leading the Utes into the NCAA Tournament, the coach has acted as the “secret” identity of would-be superhero “Doughboy.”
However, unlike colleagues Batman and Superman, who have managed to keep their real-life identities a secret from the villains, nemeses and general civilians whom they encounter, the real persona behind Doughboy is a secret to virtually nobody, though Majerus doesn’t realize that everyone on earth and a few nearby planets know it’s him.
“When this Doughboy started hanging around the Huntsman Center in his mask and cheesy outfit, and he told me that he was devoting his life to ‘ridding quality basketball programs of mediocre players usurping useful scholarships, as well as quality-control-checking all of downtown Salt Lake’s buffets,’ I knew right away it was Rick,” said U athletics director Chris Hill. “That, and the ample gut, balding head and Wisconsin accent kind of gave him away.”
For his part, Majerus tried to keep up the charade, insisting that the physical resemblance between himself and Doughboy was, “at best, minimal,” and that any supposed shared ideology between them was “tenuous.”
“Look,” Majerus said, “I have a hell of a lot of respect for this guy for all the work he does cutting the deadweight off of good teams, and saving restaurant patrons from potential cases of botulism and salmonella poisoning by swooping in on their tables, snatching their meals away and selflessly inhaling all their food, but that doesn’t mean that I’m him.
“I’ve never even met the guy, though I’d certainly like to shake his hand,” he added.
However, when questioned about the similarities between Doughboy’s basketball involvement and his own history of cutting “underachieving” players such as Jordie McTavish, Ben Heusser, David Jackson and Gary Colbert, to name a few, the coach hedged.
“All right, so maybe I have met Doughboy, and maybe he has helped me trim the fat?so to speak?from my team a few times over the years,” Majerus said. “And so what if he and I both have appetites that exceed entire populations of starving third-world countries? That still doesn’t prove a thing.”
Vowing to prove that he is not Doughboy, Majerus hurriedly disappeared into the office of assistant coach Dick Hunsaker, from which the sound of an electric hair clipper could be heard soon thereafter.
Minutes later, Majerus appeared in full Doughboy regalia, and Hunsaker, looking forlorn and humiliated, appeared with his head shaven and sporting one of Majerus’ trademark oversized monogrammed sweaters, which was approximately seven sizes too large for him.
“Here you can see Rick Majerus and famed superhero Doughboy side by side,” boomed Majerus. “Tell them, Rick.”
Hunsaker, shaking his head resignedly, then uttered in a very monotone fashion, “I am the great basketball coach Rick Majerus, and I am here with my inimitable friend, the superhero Doughboy, to prove once and for all, that we are not the same person.”
“Doughboy” then sped away, citing the need to examine game film of senior center Cameron Koford and to “test toxicity levels” of all curry dishes at the Taj India restaurant downtown.
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