Tate Martell, The Littlest Husky

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As you know, Tate Martell is the really sensational 14-year-old quarterback who verbally committed to play football at Washington in 2017 after he graduates from middle school and figures out where he wants to go to high school.

This kid is unbelievable. His quarterback guru guy, Steve Clarkson, thinks he’s a combination of Fran Tarkenton and Brett Favre, which leads you to salivate about the Tate Martell era if you’re a Husky fan. But naturally it leads me to think that Clarkson needs professional help.

What kind of an idiot would compare a 14-year-old to a pair of NFL Hall of Famers?

But I digress.

The reason I’m writing about Martell is because I received a transcript from Clarkson detailing the scene when UW coach Steve Sarkisian and God’s gift to recruiting, Tosh Lupoi, showed up at Martell’s house in San Diego on Wednesday.

Martell’s mom and dad were there too, along with his dachshund, Rivers, named after the Chargers’ quarterback. And, of course, Clarkson was front and center for this huge occasion at which Martell would announce that he pretty much wanted to spoil his life by verbally committing to the Huskies.

Sally Martel, yelling to her son, who’s in the backyard on the swing set: “Tate! Coach Sark and Mr. Lupoi are here!”

Tate: “Cool, thanks mom!”

Coach Sark: “Hey Tatey boy, how ya doin’, nice to see you again!”

Tate: “Doing great, thanks coach. Hey Tosh, how are you?”

Lupoi: “Super, just super. I got a huge six-figure contract to leave my alma mater because of my ability to recruit teen-aged kids like you. Not sure if you’ve heard of Shaq Thompson or not…”

Tate, interrupting: “Sure have! Isn’t he the guy that struck out 37 times in 39 at-bats in the Gulf Coast League this summer? Man, I’ll bet I could have done better than that!”

Lupoi: “Well, he’s a heck of a football player and we expect him to dramatically improve our defense this season.

Tate: “The one that gave up 777 yards to RGIII and Baylor in the Alamo Bowl? I saw that game and told my dad that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to play for a program that was that pathetic on defense.

Joe Martell: “But do you remember what I told you then.”

Tate: “Oh, that’s right. With a defense like that, it means I’ll be on the field more often! And we’ll be behind a lot so I’ll get to throw more!”

Coach Sark: “Well, we like to think that by the time you get to Seattle, with our new staff, we’ll have the best defense in the country! Or at least the best defense in the Pac-12! Or maybe it’ll only be the fifth-best defense in the North Division, but hey, we’ll be better, I can guarantee you that, Tatey boy!”

Ding, ding, DING A LING DING!!!!

Lupoi: “All right, it’s the ice cream man! I’ve got one of these guys in my neighborhood too. Wanna go get a Popsicle, Tate-ster!”

Tate-ster: “Sure, that’d be swell, Tosh!

Tate and Lupoi scurry out the front door while the conversation resumes in the Martells’ family room, where Rivers is fast asleep. The flat-screen is showing the championship game between Martell’s Mira Mesa Chargers and the Chula Vista Toddlers.

Dachshunds are usually yappy and annoying, but Rivers has seen the replay of this game so many times that he’s bored to tears, which is why he’s curled up in a ball under the coffee table.

Clarkson: “Glad you’re here, Steve. It’s a great move that you’re making. This kid’s the real deal.”

Coach Sark: “Tarkenton and Favre, Tarkenton and Favre, that’s what you keep telling me, right?

Clarkson: “That’s right. I can guarantee he’ll lead you to one, maybe two Kraft Fight Hunger Bowls.”

Tatey boy and Lupoi return with their Popsicles.

Tate: “Coach Sark, I’m ready to make my commitment. I think it’s pretty cool that you’d lower yourself to such a subterranean level to allow a 14-year-old to do this. Gotta give you some props for that, my man!”

Coach Sark: “Thanks, we think the world of you, Tate.”

Coach Sark, talking to himself: “I can’t believe I’m sitting here saying this crap to a 14-year-old. Oh well, they’re paying me more than $2 million a year, gotta do it. Pete told me there’d be days like this.”

Angel on one shoulder talking to Sark: “Don’t worry about it. It’s part of the job. Every coach is recruiting adolescents these days. You’re fine.”

Devil on the other shoulder talking to Sark: “Fercrisesakes, man up! This kid will take you to the top. You keep thinking you’re gonna have one of the best teams in the country someday, but you might not even have the best team in the state pretty soon with that Leach dude over in Pullman! Keep sucking up to this kid! It’s worth it!”

Tate: “I just have one more question, Coach Sark.”

Coach Sark: “What is it, what is it, anything, your wish is our desire!”

Tate: “I heard about that new ferris wheel in Seattle, the one on the waterfront. If I commit to you, can I go for a ride on it?”

Coach Sark: “Why sure, Tatey boy. You can ride it as often as you’d like!”

Tate: “Then I’d like to make it official by verbally committing to you and your program, Coach Sark.”

Tate and Coach Sark shake hands while Martell’s parents are hugging each other. Lupoi is doing cartwheels and singing “Heaven Help the Foes of Washington.”

Rivers, talking to himself: “Great, the kid made a decision, now would everybody get the hell out of here.”

Coach Sark and Lupoi thank the Martells and Tatey boy and say their goodbyes. As they get to their rental car, they exchange high-fives, envisioning future greatness at Washington.