Wednesday, 6 a.m.
One of the guys lost his mind.
The veins in Jim McElwain's neck were like undersea cables. His face was flushed. He could not stop yelling. McElwain would seemingly finish his piece, and he would start to turn away, and then he would start up all over again. This was the face of a man on his way to a total meltdown, and bully for him.
The other guy was the only calm guy in the house.
Yeah, it fair to say Lovie Smith was disappointed. But his voice remained calm. His blood pressure seemed to be just fine. Smith kept talking in reasonable tones, and his demeanor was more like a disappointed parent that an outraged taskmasker. He kept repeating the same reassuring phrases, telling the world things would be okay when thinks didn't feel okay.
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