We haven’t posted enough dancing around here lately, and we certainly haven’t written enough about the Wannstache. Throw in a rainbow afro wig, and we’re talking fancy ketchup-quality postin’, as seen below.
Dave Wannstedt actually causes mustaches to appear on everyone around him. It’s a physical law, like gravity.
Meet our new blood bank president, Vlad Dracul, dept:
The student section recognized by ESPN’s College Gameday as the best in college football has turned heads again with a sellout of more than 21,000 season tickets today in a remarkable 59 minutes.
The unprecedented sale took place in record time, according to Bud Meredith, Director of Ticket Operations. The previous record was 13 days last year, using a combination of online sales and applications that were mailed to the ticket office.
This is news, but not for the obvious reason of Penn State student football tickets selling out in record time. It’s news because the in-house operations of ticket offices for college football teams are now being farmed out to Ticketmaster, a company with the popularity of herpes and a business model stolen directly from the third world kid who digs a hole in the road, gets an AK-47, and then asks you for “a donation” to show you the way around it.
We have assigned a pair of guards to protect the captured cocaine. It is perfectly safe in their hands.
Tickets always sell out rapidly with Ticketmaster, because they can handle zillions of calls and process transactions with rapid ease. They should be able to–the average markup on a Ticketmaster “property” can range anywhere from 35 to 50 percent of the face value of the ticket. This extortionate rate pays for the convenience of buying your tickets with Ticketmaster, a convenience we’ve usually associated with dialtones, huffy operators, and an inability to get the tickets we wanted to buy.
Why Penn State decided to Stefan Postma-tize their students with this, we’ll never know. It probably had to do with the tasty prospect of outsourcing ticket business completely and cutting the hassle of a “customer” that will clamor for the tickets no matter the price–the students. And for that privilege Penn State students paid $190 bucks this year, up fifty bucks from last season.
Iowa State has their students, too, signed up for a solid pegging, so grab some lube, Cyclones. You’re about to lose fifty dollars the hard way.
Reader Seth sends us a link to extremely lovable Kansas football highlight film from 1950. Watch them wave the wheat, gridiron goblins!
One of our favorite sites sights (dammit) in all of college football around the turn of the ’00s was watching quarterback Dave Ragone leave brain cells and soul points all over the field while playing quarterback for Louisville. Why was Ragone’s energy meter getting knocked down by multiple bars as we watched pre-MSU disaster John L. Smith’s Louisville teams shock FSU and begin the Cardinals ascendance from C-USA to the Big East? Because Dave didn’t slide, you simpering little nancy.
I’m gonna get hit? Ok, that’s cool.
As in never. Ever. Ragone went shoulder first into every hit he took, a practice which resulted in hits where visible, atomized bits of brain matter shot from his eyes, ears, mouth, and most spectacularly, his ass. Ragone would actually look progressively dumber over the course of the game–we would have paid Adrian Karsten (god rest his tax-cheatin’, suicidal soul) good money to play him in Connect Four over the course of the game. First quarter: Dave wins in three moves. Second quarter: Karsten thrashes him in six moves.
Fourth quarter: Ragone’s eating the chips.
This refusal to slide met its match in one of the most dismal Thursday night games we’ve ever watched, a 2002ish matchup versus Colorado State with Bradlee Van Pelt at quarterback for the Rams, another non-slider brain damage fiend who rocked the mullet pre-hipster revival and had a face like a disgruntled vampire bat. (more…)
Bowling Green’s no Titan of the Fulmer Cup, but they are consistent: whenever they peek their beaky little Falcon heads into the race, its for fightin’.
This time, the Toledo Blade police blotter reporter does their damnedest not to touch our hearts with the bare facts, and fails miserably in the misty-eye-making account of Marques Parks, BGSU footballer,
Bowling Green police said Marques Parks, 21, of McDonald, Pa., walked out of Ziggy Zoomba’s just after midnight Tuesday and saw his girlfriend hugging her ex-boyfriend, Benjamin Bohland, 22. Angered, Mr. Parks allegedly began punching Mr. Bohland in the back of his head until his friends pulled him away.
What better way to show you still care, than by striking someone who merely wants to perhaps grunt out some kabuki mucilage* with your ex-girlfriend’s assistance once, possibly twice on a drunken night while trawling for new flesh in the meantime? And who’s already undoubtedly done everything you could have possibly done with her anyway?
His cell phone was undoubtedly as clogged as a Calcutta sewer with messages from strange females who’d witnessed this and were moved by his passion, ardor, and dedication to the woman he loves.
Too bad no one had nunchuks or pepper spray. That shit works in situations like this.
Two points for garden variety assault in the name of love for the fightin’ Bowling Green Falcons, who would do anything for love, including that.
*Contorted Japanese theatrical face + something sticky, wet, and yet dry all at the same time that comes out of a semi-cylindrical tube. Duh.
Orson Swindle and Stranko Montana are two men pushing thirty who should know better than to run a college football blog, but evidently don't. Both graduated from the University of Florida, and both agree that college football is far too important to be left to the professionals.
Comments? Questions? Long strings of profanities directed at something we said? Please send your comments to harumphharumph -a- yahoo -dot- com. Please direct all tailgating photos and stories to edsbsfans -a- gmail -dot- com.
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