How the postgame really went
Croom: You want answers?
Jack Cristil: I think we are entitled to them.
Croom: You want answers?
Jack Cristil: I want the truth!
Croom: You can't handle the truth! Jack, we live in a world that has footballs. And those footballs have to be thrown by men with guns for arms. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Jim Ellis? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Josh Riddell and you curse Mike Henig. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Henig's passing, while tragic, helps our opponets score. And his existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, helps opponets score...You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want Heing on that football field. You need Henig on that football field. We use words like west coast, offense, loyalty...we use these words as the backbone to a life spent helping other teams. You use 'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of Maroon I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it! I'd rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a football and line up. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!
Jack: Did you order Henig to play no matter what?
Croom: (quietly) I did the job you sent me to do.
Jack Cristil: Did you order Henig to play no matter what?
Croom: You're goddamn right I did!!
Croom: You want answers?
Jack Cristil: I think we are entitled to them.
Croom: You want answers?
Jack Cristil: I want the truth!
Croom: You can't handle the truth! Jack, we live in a world that has footballs. And those footballs have to be thrown by men with guns for arms. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Jim Ellis? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Josh Riddell and you curse Mike Henig. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Henig's passing, while tragic, helps our opponets score. And his existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, helps opponets score...You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want Heing on that football field. You need Henig on that football field. We use words like west coast, offense, loyalty...we use these words as the backbone to a life spent helping other teams. You use 'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of Maroon I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it! I'd rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a football and line up. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!
Jack: Did you order Henig to play no matter what?
Croom: (quietly) I did the job you sent me to do.
Jack Cristil: Did you order Henig to play no matter what?
Croom: You're goddamn right I did!!
