As if Notre Dame fans didn’t already regard the rest of the football world from lofty heights while hang-gliding from one of their mountains of football gold to the other…their spring game will be sponsored by Chick-Fil-A, home of the tastiest chicken sandwich on the planet. Bastards! Florida’s spring game can’t come close, since Bushmaster can’t legally hand out free samples of their product in the stadium (though we know a guy named Duane in Starke who’d be more than happy to help you with your “security” needs, if you catch our drift.) The Kenneth Tookes Shooting Gallery promises to be a hoot, though, so bring the kids and don’t forget your ear protection!

Satchel Paige and Charlie Weis’ cardiologist might not think this such a great idea, since both have similar ideas about athletes and fried foods:

(1) Avoid fried foods which anger the blood

Anger in football’s good, right? That is, unless you’ve already had fatness surgery. So beware that good-looking dame tickling Charlie’s chins and force-feeding him chicken strip after chicken strip on the sidelines, Domers…she may be a spy!

Assassins wear a thousand disguises…we bet there’s a Michigan shirt under that suit.

Fight!!! It’s spring again…

College football’s not immune to fashion, whether it’s for uniforms, styles, or most notoriously, scheme. From Army’s run game to TCU’s passing schemes of the 60s, through the Wishbone rage and the run ‘n shoot, to the NFLized offenses and defenses of the current day, coaches will always tinker, tweak, and wholesale adopt foreign schemes in an attempt to gain a competitive advantage on their opponent.

Continuing the comparison, some of these turn out to be the facemask or elastic pant, and some of them turn out to be the “Asparagus Urine Nightmare” unis Oregon trotted out a few years back. The I-formation=staying power, while the wishbone now elicits audible “OOOHS” when your team runs it as a gag in spring practice (and not because it’s spectacular.) Some stuff sticks, and some doesn’t, which is leading us to the latest gob of strategic goo tossed against the collective blackboard of college football: the spread.

Old hotness: the ‘bone.

In particular, take Jeff Tedford’s recent admission: Cal, one of the most successful pro-style offenses in the country, will be taking “elements” of the spread offense and adding to the Bears’ repertoire this fall, most likely to take advantage of Marshawn Lynch’s versatility and perhaps to get more mileage from Joe Ayoob’s fast feet (which hopefully will speed up his slow, turnover-prone head this season.) Tedford is in college coaching circles regarded as a school unto himself on par with Spurrier, Leach, Petrino, and Chow, the architect of his own variation of a pro-style system heavily dependent on conventional formations and a stout running game opening up passing lanes downfield.

Even Tedford sees the need to get in on at least a smidge of spreadulation, if only out of a vague sense of feeling left out of the whole thing. (Really, why tweaking anything in Cal’s offense is a good idea is beyond us; the only thing hobbling the Cal offense is hobbling, as in injuries to the quarterback, and the ever-present challenge of breaking in new and inexperienced quarterbacks.) Why fiddle, when you’ve got a system that performs well against a broad spectrum of defenses and techniques?

The obvious answer: one more tool in the belt. You want the maximum number of options at your disposal to address the challenges posed by moving a ball against a defense that is on par or even superior in athletic talent to your own. Logical enough, but with a caveat taken from the pages of design theory: have as many buttons as you need and no more. There’s a diminishing return on complexity in all things, with the only possible exceptions being tax code, Chinese shipping ownership schemes, and the plot of The Baroque Cycle. (We’re almost done with the damn thing, we swear.) What Tedford seeks to gain is options; what he could end up with is chindogu, an offense taking two or more practical themes and combining them into an ineffective mishmash of a scheme.

The spread offense: revolution, or automatic noodle-cooler?

While Oregon’s Frankenspread–created by Gary Crowton after he watched Utah rampage through the Mountain West against his BYU teams–put up impressive numbers, it floundered when it counted against USC and in their bowl game. (more…)

Ian did it, who heard it from Joey, who heard it from Nico…shit, it’s the offseason, and after writing the piece on the fraudulent craze that is the spread offense tomorrow, we’ll be knee-deep in petulant internet ankle-biting again. Before we do that, a bite to the hook of the next random internet meme: “Songs that make you wanna…”, a.k.a. “24 Questions on Music.” (Not remotely college football related warning should be unnecessary here, but just for the record: Not remotely college football-related.)

1. A favorite political track.

“Fernando,” by Abba. The weirdest political track ever recorded, since it’s a bunch of Swedes writing about the Mexican Revolution in English. It’s also topshelf vintage Euro-crap, with a chorus one could easily sing along with while holding a beer stein in one hand and another man’s wife in the other (encompassing both parts of the Scandinavian equation, wife-swapping and binge-drinking to bland, well-crafted pop songs.)

They were shining there for you and me, for liberty, Fernando…

2. One of those tracks that will make you dance on the dancefloor no matter what.

Biting from Ian’s list, but the Rapture’s “House of Jealous Lovers” would make Orrin Hatch do the Harlem Shuffle. It’s sonically transmitted epilepsy when played on big speakers. Special mention goes to Crystal Waters’ “Come on Down,” which earns the nod for featuring a big gay club beat set behind the “Price is Right” theme.

3. The song you’d use to tell someone you love them.

“Ribbon in the Sky,” Stevie Wonder. There’s a reason it was the official theme song of every black wedding from 1984-1991. If you don’t tear up while listening to it, we’d be happy to punch our hands through your chest to show you the empty space where your heart should be.

4. A song you know would sell lots of VWs (or ipods, or whatever) if they paid for it. (One that hasn’t already been used).

“Rock Lobster,” the B-52s. Red Lobster, anyone? When the royalties trickle low, count on hearing this to embarrassing footage of restaurant employees dancing with trays of plastic lobster in their hands.

13.99 Lobster Dinner…let’s rock!

5. A song that forced you to sit down and analyze its lyrics.

“Liberation,” Outkast. Big Rube’s monologue at the end, especially. Scathing, self-lacerating, honest, and almost painful to hear.
(more…)

Marcus Vick’s Wonderlic score=11. We’re shocked.