(A musty office somewhere in Boston, February 2011)

(flipping through press clippings from 2010) That don't look good to me at all Urban.

The NCAA was a monster. Mean fuckin' drunk. Used to come over to Gainesville hammered, looking to death penalize someone. I had to use "more family time" as a PR shield so they wouldn't go after Tebow's eye stickers.

Used to put sanctions, loss of scholarships, or a faux early retirement on the kitchen table and say, choose.

Boy with the oversigning and all, I gotta go with loss of scholarships there.

Went with the early retirement.

Why?

'Cause fuck 'em, that's why.

So what's it say in there Sean? Urban leaves jobs faster than Jeff Demps runs the 100 meter dash? Urban's heart can't handle a high stress coaching gig?

(Picks up clippings) Urban, you see all this shit?

It's not your fault.

I know...

No. Listen to me Urban. It's not your fault. You burnt out at Florida. Tim Tebow left. You needed a break. You needed to move on.

I know.

It's not your fault.

I know.

It's not your fault.

(crying) Don't fuck with me Sean. Not you.

It's not your fault.

(Sobs uncontrollably)

(Sobbing)

(Snot bubbles)

,,,

(November 2011, somewhere in Boston. Sean is packing his things when the doorbell rings. He opens the door to see a note in the mailbox.)

(reading note out loud) "Sean, if anyone calls, tell 'em I went to Columbus, Ohio to see about my dream job. Oh, and Patch Adams sucked."

(smiling) Son of a bitch...

(Elliot Smith song plays)