Belated, but since little’s going on today, we dig this from the unused pile of things we should have mentioned at the time but didnt:

Mark Bradley offered up his extremely specific picks for the 2007 football season in late June because “deep down you know there’d be a void in your lives if I didn’t.” Howard Stern-like bluster from the starchy, oft-maligned AJC columnist! He’ll be asking strippers if they were molested as young girls any day now and hanging out with alcoholic midgets any day now. I am the king of all poorly-run, barely-read Cox Communications-owned media!

The new precog Bradley predicts:

— Phillip Fulmer will be replaced by David Cutcliffe the first week in December. (The final straw will be Tennessee losing to Kentucky for the first time since 1984.) Hearing the news, Johnny Majors will laugh deep into January.


Mark Bradley knows…things…

My, that’s specific. What a roasting we shall give him should Fulmer be fired in the last week of November instead! We’re ribbing Bradley out of anger here, since he bumrushed our own list of amazingly specific–cough cough SPECIOUS cough–predictions about the season.

On September 18th, Kirk Herbstreit will look at Chris Fowler, and with all seriousness, ask if he just wants to, you know, hang out and play some 360 or something. Or hoops. If he has time, that is.

On October 13th, Dennis Erickson will wake up in a grotty alley in a dim corner of Montreal, Canada, shaking to the core from the cold. There will be $75K in poker chips in his pocket. He will have a game to coach in Tempe on the other side of the continent. Dennis will think: deja vu, daddy. Deja fuckin’ vu.

On September 16th, Tom O’Brien will wake and eat a bowl of Wheetabix, the same cereal that’s been waking up Tom O’Brien and the O’Brien household for twenty years. And Tom O’Brien will say out loud, “That’s a satisfying bowl of cereal.” Then he will finish that bowl of cereal.

On December 1st, Jim Harbaugh will tear a phone book with his bare hands to motivate his team. Because Stanford doesn’t bow down to anyone, and the best way to demonstrate this is by ripping a phone book in half, because only passion and commitment can rip up a copy of the greater Palo Alto area phone book. They will then get pummeled by Cal like no Stanford team has been pummeled in recent memory.

On September 4th, Rich Brooks will kick the ever-lovin’ shit out of a cat. Go ahead and pencil this in every day of the season, because if there’s one thing Rich Brooks can do, partner, it’s kick the shit out of that fucking cat next door every day just to show it who’s swingin’ the huevos around here.