Kyle King continues to pull the figure four move with ease on a daily basis. This time it’s a rundown of coaching mismatches through the years, a list chocked with likely suspects (we see you Rich Brooks, quaffing tapioca in the corner) but also with some surprises mixed in (like Pop Warner at Temple, for example.)

Let’s just go ahead and nominate anywhere that Butch Davis goes next. Few and far between are the survivors of NFL debacles–Holtz did it, and Spurrier may–but most go dribbling back to the collegiate ranks as weaker men. And can we pre-emptively take the Wannstache for wherever he goes next?

Wannstache-alicious: a flavor that tastes like burning, we think.

You’re looking live at your college football viewing future, and it’s going to have more Musburgames on it than you can shake an empty beer can at. The red-blooded, hooter-scoping, down-to-you-Jackaroooing announcer will be in the captain’s seat for ABC’s Saturday night games this fall, getting stratospheric over three-yard bubble screens and just waiting to drop that cute catchphrase he’s been holding onto for three quarters into the broadcast, even if he’s got to break out the rhetorical crowbar to do it. He also might be one of the few remaining announcers who drink (genus species vocallissimus intoxicae), a disappearing breed who are quickly being run out of the business by twerpy teetotallers bent on defunning the broadcast by doing the entire broadcast completely sober.

Could whip Jack Joe Buck’s ass with a feather duster.

The downside is that if you hate the Wagner of college football broadcasting, you’ll spend your whole fall praying for the sword of Siegfried to slay the tank-lunged Musberger. The upside is that the crusty announcer will have a large forum to potentially make amazingly clueless mistakes on air, especially in the “things one does not say when pretty ladies are on screen.” (”Ahh, Gary, when a lady like that wears a dress, you wish you were an ant with binoculars, don’t you? Right? Downtooyouoojackaroo…”)

The color commentator for the game will not be Musberger life/broadcast partner Gary Danielson, but rather ESPN “personality” and suntan fan Bob Davie, whose “footbaw” chops and astute commentary will include references to:

–”Footbaw player”
–”Footbaw speed”
–”Footbaw plays”
–”Footbaw size”
–”Footbaw Footbaw”

All of these will be heavily accented on the second word; in fact, an IT genius out there could just excerpt whole slices of dialogue from Davie broadcasts to create their own “Bob Davie Footbaw Soundboard,” complete with trademark Davieisms like “That’s just a footbaw player makin’ footbaw plays,” and “that’s good footbaw size helping this footbaw team stay in the game.”

Another tidbit in the article on the Saturday lineup: ABC, despite NBC’s large contract with Notre Dame, gets to jack three prime Irish games from the Peacock again. This not only is a continuing indication that NBC Sports is run by syphilitic monkeys, but also good news for Irish fans looking forward to watching their games broadcast in something besides “Crapovision: the Video Standard That Made Bulgarian Television Great!”

New Mexico State rescinds a scholarship offer to WR Cornell Burbage II following his arrest for the alleged rape and sodomy of a 13 year old girl. Holy hell– that is not, not right.

We were going to make this up, but then it happened. And we COULDN’T be HAPPIER if our lives depended on IT.

Correct: you are looking at the banner ad for Chris Rix’s own “Champion Training Academy, LLC,” which is precisely what we would have named our mighty Bloodsport-themed metal band if Tweezer-Boy up there hadn’t already stolen it and made it moldy lame by association. (We’re still going to do a band just to perform “Fight to Survive.” Do not invite us to your party, because that is our only song, and our shows will be three hours long because that is what real bands do.)

The site may not be safe for work simply because of the number of guffaw-worthy items on it. The mission statement alone is worth a few giggles at least, since it looks like it fell into a barrel of HTML emphasis tags and couldn’t get out:

Champion Training Academy, LLC takes pride in training its clients. That’s why Champion guarantees improvement following just one training session…or you investment is fully returned.

In order to become a CHAMPION…you must first train like a CHAMPION!

~AIM FOR GREATNESS!

We COULDN’T agree more: you investment is obviously very, VERY important to Chris Rix. The whole site is like some internet transposition of a Puritan broadside, a nightmare of EMPHASIS gone AMOK. Personal notes from Rix must read like ransom notes, all over the page with nonsensical words like THE and SINCERELY written in huge, Crayon-hued letters.

The services offered by Champion do tickle the imagination. Take the “QB Factory,” for example–it offers an eight-part package, taught by Rix himself, to guide a QB into lean, mean, fully waxed shape. The eighth step intrigues us:

8. Knowledge and Understanding of different/various COVERAGES…

We did a little homework, and got a hold of the materials Champion uses to teach coverages. We suspect that they combine a little bit of Rix with the fine, Shaolin training Jeff Bowden gave him at FSU. Most of them look something like this:

And yes, it worked against Florida twice. Don’t remind us–we blame [NAME REDACTED], seen here showing off the number of wins he had last year. We’re going to go strangle puppies now until we feel better, but in the meantime, heed the words of Chris Rix: Aim for Greatness! And sometimes hit the free safety in stride…

…CAME THE FIRST GODDAMNED PREVIEW MAGAZINE!!!

Apologies for the yelling, but we made an audible “WHOOTCHAAAA!” when, trolling the magazine racks for our super mansome staples (like Bust, the women’s magazine that takes geeky women and hots ‘em up for the newsrack. Don’t deny it–you read a woman’s magazine and do not admit it, most likely Cosmo, the mag whose horribly misguided sex advice column has hurt the asses, nipples, and other tender erogenous zones of men for decades now thanks to varying suggestions involving teeth, inserted fingers, and candle wax. At least we pick the one that has advertisements for Eazy-E Landscape Portraits and dildo cozies in the back…)…we espied the orange print “SEC” and leapt across the aisle to find the Sporting News’ spanking new SEC Preview OMFG THANK YOU JEEBUS!!!

We know you want this, but sadly, it’s gone. Fortunately, the Loverboy pants are still in stock.

We’ll review the whole thing tomorrow once we get a chance to digest it. We mean literally, since we ate three copies of it in a joyous fit in the middle of the store. At $7.50 a pop, we could have had a hanger steak and fingerling potatoes for that price–instead we chose to eat the sweet prose of Tom Dienhart, which in retrospect wasn’t that great an idea to begin with. Excuse us…

It is now official. The Miami-Dade Police force and their occassional enforcer, Shaq, are on notice. Marcus “Lil Mexico” Vick has signed a deal with the Dolphins and will be moving to a city that is a natural fit for his talents.

Marcus should keep Shaq in shape this off season.