<div class="floatleft">(http://i631.photobucket.com/albums/uu35/greytrail/Elliquiy%20avatars/Disney%20college/Phil1_zpsa01356f9.jpg)</div><strong>Name/True Identity</strong>: Phil Satyrios<br/><strong>Location</strong>: The field<br/><strong>Doing</strong>: interviewing with...<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Meg. OPEN<br/><br/>"Your loss, kid," Phil shrugged. He was ever willing to help someone who wanted to be helped. Even if he had to be the dickhead drill sergeant to get the job done. If she wanted to keep everyone and everything away from her obvious pain, it was no skin off his nose.<br/><br/>Still, he did hate to see a student suffer.<br/><br/>"I was an athlete in a lot of sports as a young man. Good enough to be pro in a few of them. But I don't care for authority and my natural state of being is mouthy asshole. So I studied everything there was to study about football, because it's one of the sports I could never play seriously and one of the few sports where no one gives a shit that I'm an asshole. I get an outlet, my kids get the best goddamn training at the collegiate level, the school gets good ink and the fans get a hell of a show. The violence of this theater," he gestured expansively to the field and the stands around them where they stood in the shadows of one of the four entry tunnels. "Is the modern Roman Circus. Gives an outlet for everyone's raw desires in an acceptable, public way. And no matter what any punk ass might say about me, I love my kids, every last damn idiot one of them and I'd go through hell and back for any of them. That's how it benefits me. They succeed, I succeed. Nothing else can ever feel that good."<br/><br/>Smirking faintly, Phil narrowed his eyes out at the field, seeing some goofing off in the ranks. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some heads to roll."<br/><br/>As he headed for the misty sunlight, he fired a parting shot over his shoulder. "Good questions, Attitude. If you ever need a ear..."<br/><br/>And then he was off putting the fear of god in his team.