What do you mean, real teams?
All women I do despise!
—WOMEN, by Bragg
What is fascinating is how Bragg, described by one friend as the "unequivocal macho man," can survive his own candor. "Let me tell you about the time I was getting ready to hire a soccer coach," he says, pausing to spit on his office wall. "First thing I hear is the students want to hire the soccer coach. So I say, 'O.K., we'll have a meeting.' A bunch shows up and I say, 'I'll listen to what you have to say, but I can assure you that your input is minor.' It was a short meeting."
When he talks of Stockton's intercollegiate sports (eight, including basketball, soccer and track and field, but not football), he says, "Look, we're Division III. No scholarships, no nothing. All we can hope for is a 9.9 sprinter who might, with proper coaching, get to 9.7. Now that's still slow as hell, but the fact is, we're not dealing with thoroughbreds. Whenever one of these guys starts telling me about what he's going to do, I say, 'What have you done?' Then I say, 'If you're the best, like you say, what the hell are you doing at Stockton?' "
Bragg abruptly stands up and says, "Let's quit talking about this crap and go have a drink and talk about me."
The bartender approaches and says, "Don, the lady on down the way says your cigar smoke is bothering her, and she wants you to put it out."
"Tell her," says Bragg, "that this is a bar, not a damn church."