I can't argue with that

"That weakside sweep looked good today," I said. "I finally got in a good block for you." "I saw it," he said. "I wiped out that bastard Smee. He likes to hurt people, that son of a bitch." "Which one is he?" "Middle linebacker.?He's the defensive captain.?He captains the defense." "I saw the block," Taft said. "I really wiped him out, that bastard. Hey, look, what are you doing here anyway?" "Where—here?" "Right," I said. "Here in this particular locale. This dude ranch." "I'm here to play football. Same as you." "You could be at almost any school in the country. Why would you want to leave a place like Columbia to come here? Granted, Columbia's not exactly a football colossus. But to come here. How the hell did you let Creed talk you into this place? It's not as though you're integrating the place. Technically you're integrating the place but that's only because nobody else ever wanted to come here. Who the hell would want to come to a place like this?" "You came here." "Hey, Robinson," Kimbrough said. "I'm here because I'm a chronic ballbreaker. First, it's not likely any other school would have me. Second, I wanted to disappear." "But you're here," he said. "We're all here." "I can't argue with that. How's your milk? Jessup says the milk is putrid." "Which one is he?" "Hey, Robinson," Moody Kimbrough said. "We don't wear sunglasses indoors around here. We don't do that— hear?" "Mind your own business," I said.