Eighth grade is too old...send in the next generation!!

Picture if you will...a quiet house in Lexington near I-75, where a couple is busy wrangling their two-year-old into his dinosaur-themed pajamas when the doorbell rings. The husband, prematurely bald but spry despite years of self-inflicted physical abuse, leaves his wife to head downstairs and wondering why the pizza guy is coming when he specifically didn't order one.
"Coach Gillispie?"
"Mr. Daley? I've been watching your boy Ryan for some time."
Mr. Daley arches an eyebrow and says, "Could you excuse me for a second? I left my baseball bat in my trunk."
Gillispie holds up his hands in surrender. "No, nothing disgusting like that. May I come in?"
"OK, but I'm still getting the bat."
As Gillispie heads up the stairs Ryan regards him with caution then proceeds to drink from his sippy cup.
"So! How's my point guard for the 2024-25 season looking?"
"Say what?" Mrs. Daley says.
"It's never too early to think of your son's future. Or mine for that matter. I'm still busy trying to fend off the rabid rednecks that won't forgive me for losing on day 1 of the NCAAs."
"Well, dang coach, you only tried to throw the entire team into the lime pit by making them practice four times on game day," Mr. Daley says.
"Patterson's a pussy. So is Meeks. Acie Law IV never complained. Joseph Jones complained," Gillispie retorted.
"Yeah, because they were afraid of getting shot. I heard what you did to that walk-on....what was his name? Ollie Creekly?"
"You mean the froggie black kid on Saved By The Bell? Whatever...he was, well, smaller than you, if that's humanly possible."
"Anyway, shouldn't you be recruiting actual high school talent instead of my son? Or Clay Aiken? Isn't he a little too fey, even for you?"
"That wasn't me that hit the glory hole at Mia's, that was, um, Bobby Knight. Look, only desperate juco kids are willing to take my abuse. So I get what I can. Besides, I don't need stars, I'll just coach them up."
"Isn't that what got Tubby run up to Minnesota? And coach them up how? Let Meeks and Porter grab ass around the perimeter and let Patterson fend off four guys inside to get offensive rebounds? That's not coaching...that's pure laziness."
"That's where your son comes in." Ryan sprints toward the kitchen to wail on the family cat. "Look at that agressiveness! The quickness! Can he do that for 200 minutes a day and play through pain."
For a minute the Daleys mull Gillispie's offer. Then the wife speaks up.
"Well...when he gets tired he cries and needs a nap."
At that point Gillispie stands up and says, "Well, maybe Syracuse will come calling. Of course Boeheim will be 120 by then."
As the coach showed himself out the Daleys looked a bit stunned.
"What just happened here?", Mrs. Daley asked.
Mr. Daley shakes his head. "Panic in the streets. Wonder when Travis Ford's coming back?"