An entire cottage industry surrounds the art of imitating Steve Spurrier. Todd Blackledge gives great OBC speak, though we’d offer up Paul Westerdawg’s version of Spurrier as well, having heard it in person. (His Pat Dye, however, must be committed to tape sometime. It is a true classic of the genre.)

Our own attempts end up sounding too Granny Clampett-esque. So do James Bates’s; he, however, played for Spurrier and once wore a pumpkin carved into a helmet to an interview on Halloween and refused to take it off during the exchange. This makes ours “bad,” and his “good.”

Whatever his imitation may lack in accuracy it more than makes up for in pure rightness. The idea of Spurrier goading Danny Wuerffel because he refused to curse back at Florida State players still makes us giggle. What you gonna do, Danny? Huh? Eh, just 18-34, 306 yards, 2 tds. Oh, and running a very awkward one in, too. We never forget that one.

Yes, Auburn just played their spring game. That’s what happens when you begin spring practice three days after the Iron Bowl. Brandon Cox received eerily uniform and positive reviews for his performance in the game, according to SMQ’s round-the-blogosphere coverage, but count SMQ justly skeptical after watching Cox droop under pressure as the 2006 season progressed. Remember that in Auburn’s biggest win, the 27-17 home defeat of Florida, the offense failed to score a single touchdown, with Auburn benefiting from the generosity of the Gator offense and that cursed blocked punt sponsored by Pontiac, whose cars we will never purchase as a result–take that, bastard-dogs of Detroit!

We’d weep for that loss, were we not sipping another round of Rusty Nails from Troy Smith’s skull, delivered courtesy of Jarvis Moss and Derrick Harvey. In honor of the transitive property national champion Auburn Tigers, Lee Corso says War Eagle to you, Tiger Nation.

A busy opening day in the Fulmer Cup Market–if this were late afternoon essential Marketplace on NPR, we’d be playing “We’re In The Money” behind this piece to celebrate the uptick in activity.

Hawgz Shoplifitin’ Skillz=unw00t. At least for starting defensive end Antwain Robinson, best remembered by the casual football fan for stealing a shovel pass from Chris Leak in the SEC championship game for a temporarily devastating touchdown. The alleged theft in question this time involves something from a Dillard’s in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Judging from the aristocratic pose Robinson took in his mug shot, we’re guessing it’s a tasteful linen shirt–plum or eggshell?–and a snappy pair of lightweight wool trousers for the garden party season.

Hello, good sir. Make mine a Hendrick’s and tonic, please.

Fulmer Cup score: One point, with possible bonus if we find out he was stealing anything humorous, like a Dillard’s employee.

Drinkin’ in Utah. Utah enters the competition in decidedly un-Mormonesque style with a pittance of a DUI charge for Ute WR Marquis Wilson. Wilson made an illegal turn, was pulled over, and then blew a 0.11 on the breathalyzer, a mere .3 above the legal limit. In Utah, 0.11 is considered legally drunk; in Bulgaria, that’s just getting started. Wilson has been charged with drunk driving nonetheless, and has been suspended from the Utes indefinitely.

Fulmer Cup Score: 1 point.

P.S. If anyone wants to maintain the Fulmer Cup scoreboard, we’re canvassing for volunteers. Payment will come in the form of pats on the back and the mention of your name with the phrase “hung like Reggie F’n Nelson” for the rest of your life on this blog.

We’ve been told horses will lose ten pounds an hour if they’re not fed on time. Apocryphal or not, that factoid is the very first thing we thought of when we read this:

Digits

42 — Pounds lost in the offseason by redshirt sophomore lineman Derrell Jones, who is listed at 6-foot-2, 320 pounds. Jones has switched from offensive guard to defensive tackle this spring.

Whoa, hamburguesa–that’s some heap’uh beef trimmings right there. Jones came in as a defensive tackle, moved to offensive guard, and is moving back to defensive tackle this spring. The weight loss may seem more drastic than it actually is, since keeping someone at 340 pounds while putting them through calorie-burning drills and weight-lifting is extremely difficult. (340 while sedentary–no problem, Homer.)

This gives Pitt a newly diminutive Jones at 320ish pounds at d-tackle in college football. We really should feel more outrage at the implications of someone so young being forced to seesaw his weight and jeopardize his health like this–we really should. It’s just not good to do this to your body, even with the huge margins men this size deal with when it comes to weight loss.

But when Jones lines up like a huge gold-capped black boulder in the middle of the line, we’ll be right there with the announcers who, rather than editorializing on the subject, will likely circle him with the telestrator and a la Madden go “Now dere’s one big, big dude there.” Nevermind that his kidneys are failing. That’ll come after he gets drafted. Then he can buy new ones and stockpile them in a freezer for old age, right next to the pile of replacement knees and pig valves for his heart.

Harder Better Fatter Stronger?

Nudists never are who they should be. Ideally, nudists would be people you want to see in the buff. We can report that from hard experience (umm, unfortunate choice of words there) that they are not the people you’d like to strip off and cavort pantsless. They also, fortunately, are not the people you would elect not to remove so much as a sock off their body in your presence.

Ladies and gentlemen…Kenny G!

Based on our experience one intrepid afternoon in the early 2000s, nudists come mostly from the soft middle of American demography: middle-aged, middle-tempered, and middle-heavy. They’re also exceedingly pleasant, even when you’re obviously rubbing sunscreen on your testicles for the awkward first time. Do not, however, walk leisurely into one of their volleyball games. It is a fact universally acknowledged tbat nudists make savage, pitiless volleyballers.

Even in Berkeley, this seems to be true, since the nude protest against the University’s plan to raze a grove of oak trees brought out not the troll squad nor the Berkeley Hottz0rz team, but rather average-looking people bent on dropping trou in order to…well, we think in order to save some trees.

Racist hippies allow only naked white flesh in their protest against better football.

The removal of the trees to build a new training center for Cal football remains part of a larger plan to bolster the literally shaky construction of Memorial Stadium, which stands on a fault line and could collapse in event of an earthquake.* The rationale behind the protest, as described by coordinating photographer Jack Gescheidt:

“What I do is show people at the most vulnerable — naked — with trees to illustrate the relationship and beauty of nature,” he said. “I hope to do a quiet, reverential photo of people and trees. . . . Humans are drawn to trees…”

…for firewood, in order to barbecue animals they’ve caught and slaughtered…

The people up in those trees are not crazy, they are doing something beautiful and important,” Gescheidt said. “They don’t need to destroy this grove.”

No–but they really, really want to destroy it. The only hold-up to the plan comes via an Alameda Superior Court Ruling claiming Cal did not properly assess the risks of building on a fault line. (Just write “MAY FUCKING FALL DOWN AT ANY INSTANT” on every inch of the structure. Does that cover liability? Um, no.–EDSBS legal. Killjoy.–ed.) Once Cal addresses that small issue, the plans for stadium expansion and the slaughter of the trees will continue apace.

One quote of worth from the SFGate article bears memorization, however:

Shawn Alexander, who came from Fresno to visit her daughter Madison at Cal, was a bit surprised to see naked people in trees.

“I can confirm there is nothing like this going on Fresno,” she said with a laugh.

We’ll only pay further attention to this story from this point on if and only if hotter people get naked to support the demolition of the trees. Hot naked people with chainsaws and hardhats–just another example of how the universe in our heads leaves the real one in smoking shame in comparison. Trust us on this.

Click here for a video of the protest where absolutely nothing you see or hear will surprise you. (NSFW, technically, but boring as all hell anyway.)

What’s Department of Homeland Security head Michael Chertoff doing there?

*Applicable to anything in California except Barry Bonds.