“Victory is won not in miles but in inches. Win a little now, hold your ground, and later, win a little more.”

Last night, we couldn’t sleep. Rolled over: 4:35 on the dot. We ran through all the usual suspects as far as insomnia. Terrifying dreams about spiders wielding knives? Negative. Gassy? No more so than usual. Giddy about college football being close enough to touch with our trembling mindfingers? Of course, but that doesn’t keep us from sleeping, sometimes even during actual college football games in season.*

What was waking us up in the middle of the night? It wasn’t obvious until emails began pouring into our inbox this afternoon. College football players had been arrested at a gay bar, and we weren’t writing about it, dammit.

First, Virginia earns a total of five points for their unsuccessful foray into Charlottesville gay nightlife. First, there’s the crime of the mug shot hair, an atrocity. Second, if you’re going to steal something at a gay club, sweetie, make sure it’s someone’s heart, not a few beers from behind the bar. Third, if you’re going to attempt to outrun someone after stealing beer, make sure it’s not gay guys, because they go to the gym almost as often as football players, and are often more aerodynamic due to the body waxing. Hetero-fouls to both of you gentlemen, and with four misdemeanor charges and a bonus point for being in a gay club, that’s five earned the fabu way, Cavaliers.

(The mascot? Doesn’t make this funnier. Nope. Not at all.)

Most students can afford two hundred bucks a month in gas, sure. Ohio State earns two points for generic, unremarkable DUI, an appropriate charge for a generic, unremarkable Ohio. Worthington’s Ohio State file photo, however, is both ungeneric and un-unremarkable. Really, if Worthington had rolled down the window with this look on his face, what lady wouldn’t have let him off with a warning and her cell phone number written on the back of a traffic ticket?

Only the most exotic and sensuous oils will cover your body when you are with me. Both of you, I mean. Whaddya mean there’s only one of you?

Worthington, an 11 game starter last season, blew somewhere between a 0.08 and a 0.17, meaning he was tipsy, but not in Pete Doherty territory or anything. He was also driving a white Escalade at the time, which Ohio State supporters will assume came based on parental contributions or projected NFL money, and which everyone else will assume came from Maurice Clarett Motors of Greater Columbus. We have no idea where the car actually came from, but we know exactly what everyone will think no matter what we say, so there you are.

Finally, Kentucky’s Curtis Pulley is, yes, making the job easier for Kentucky coaches trying to decide who to name starter for the Wildcats. Two FC points for various driving-related offenses for Kentucky as a result, and points for Mike Hartline in the qb race in Lexington, as well. Asked to comment, Rich Brooks made a colorful agricultural metaphor, and then refused to answer any further questions on the matter.

*Note: second-tier Big Ten games only. Don’t act like you don’t do the same.

Go sleep with someone you don’t know. Go urinate in a public place. Go get a three-day hangover. Go stain a futon in a shocking way. Go shit your pants in a crowded bar and refuse to admit it, thus earning the name “Mr. Poopy Pants” for the remainder of your college career. Go purchase a bottle of 151, consume a third of it while playing NCAA 2009, and then challenge a lamppost to a fight.

Go be the number one party school in the nation, Florida.

Seconds later the camera was covered in a stream of projectile vomit.

On our own despicable checklist of things done in the name of a Florida undergraduate degree: (more…)

Percy Harvin, following foot surgery, must have stayed under sedation for the implantation of an additional pituitary gland solely devoted to producing new HGH.

Jesus H. Ripped Fuel: without being too “cavalier” about the whole thing, Percy’s gone from gliding 170 pounder to near 200 pounds in his three years in the conditioning program and looks like hired muscle prepping for a elaborate hit job. (A hit job that involved an island fortress and a target only susceptible to explosive medicine balls, natch.) That’s a beautiful piece of man, is what we’re trying to say. We’d kiss him with tongue. What yes what?

You can’t see the heel in question that got Harvin on the operating table this spring, but if you could, we bet it would be the most impeccably ripped heel in the history of heels.

Video from the Florida Strongman competition, with much happy tire-flipping, after the jump.

(more…)

You know what would be great? Seriously: let’s get Charlie to sing the National Anthem “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” at a Cubs game! That’d be a great idea! The people will be clamoring for him, and it’ll all go so well. Just put him out there and the magic will…

…and that was fun! SMQ gives credit for Weis for staying cool, but really, that’s a bare minimum, isn’t it? If he were to pitch a fit and scream at baseball fans Lee Elia-style, he’d earn status as our favorite ND coach of all time, but that’s not necessarily an honor you want, no? Even if it meant rightfully scolding a fanbase who pays tons of cash to show up and watch their team get kicked in the teeth for decades on end playing a game that, inshallah, will be dead in thirty years?

At least he didn’t have to read the lyrics off of note cards. Weis does deserve credit for not stooping to that, at least. Hell, we could sing “Take Me Out To the Ball Game,” and we think baseball is a sport for those with traumatic brain injuries incapable of processing faster, more invigorating sports like football, rugby, backgammon, or scrapbooking.

Country gentleman Petrino: classy, unlike SOME people we know.

It’s a sign of a bad liar that, when pressed to offer an explanation for his actions, the liar in question denies charge one but willingly cops to what they consider a lesser charge. Honey, I didn’t sleep with the stripper. But I did take three hundred dollars from the emergency fund for blow for the boys. We cool, right?

Arkansas wide receiver Marques Wade is a prime example of this phenomena. Case in point: after almost hitting a cop with a car–which they really, really don’t like–Wade was pulled over. (That happens fairly often when you almost hit policemen with cars.) Wade then proceeded to display cunning linguistic skills by erecting a rhetorical smokescreen that would send blood shooting from Matlock’s overloaded brainframe.

A Fayetteville police report shows an officer stopped the sophomore from Ellenwood, Ga., after he sped through a parking lot and nearly slid into another officer. The report alleges Wade had bloodshot eyes and denied drinking, but said he had “smoked some marijuana earlier in the day.”

Weed? Well, son, who hasn’t done that? Drive on! You’re practically sober! For outstanding DUI, Arkansas picks up a base charge of three points, but also earns an additional point for the whole almost-hitting-a-policeman thing for a total of four points in the Fulmer Cup.

To show you that you have crossed the Harvey Dent rubicon into seeing the villain become a moderately tasteful semi-villain: do you hear Bobby Petrino complaining about the disciplinary problems he inherited from Houston Nutt?

Of course not. That’s what heels do. A refined gentleman like Petrino simply checks his Blackberry for any pressing job offers emails from his agent and moves on like a gentleman. DO YOU HEAR ME KRAGTHORPE YOU NABOB? Whatever, says Petrino: go back to eating your salad with the dessert fork, you cretin. See if an ascot-wearing duke like B.P. has anything to say to a savage like yourself. Drive on, Beersworthy!

Last week on College Football Live–which if you’re not watching just to get your righteous blog anger on, you should at least be watching on the Brent Musberger Unfrozen 1973 Male Inappropriate Comment Watch beat–Pete Carroll was put on their “Rapid Fire” segment, which Pete aced. Why did he ace Rapid Fire? Because if it’s a gum spitting contest for accuracy, the Humanitarian’s gonna put it right on the line, hombre, and if it’s a backyard basketball game, he’s gonna put a triple-double up on you, and if it’s a contest to see who can make the tastiest braunschweiger out of local homeless people…well, rest assured Pete’s gonna outdo you in the art of serving man in tasty, well-spiced tubules, sir.

Carroll was asked what he would be if he wasn’t a football coach. The answer?

Carroll: I’d be an archaeologist.

He’s probably not thinking about the “oh god, did I just spend eight years of my life to dig holes and lay down twine grids?” school of archaeology. Carroll is instead assuming the Indiana Jones style of archaeology, where you spend all day gallivanting through doom-filled ruins pulling shiny things out of booby-trapped spaces only to find your competitor has beat you to it or is waiting for you outside with an army of grumpy pygmies, which is okay because after the thrilling escape you get to bang hot chicks and shoot the natives when they get uppity.

Actually, we think we know exactly what this looks like in Pete’s head, down to the face of the competitor.

“You see, Dr. Carroll, again there is nothing you can find that I cannot take from you!”

The AI has to monkeyed with in some fashion here, but this clip of video game Noel Devine in NCAA 2009 is clean family fun nevertheless. And who are we to say it’s totally unrealistic? It does bear some resemblance to the first half of the 2006 Sugar Bowl, after all.

[/envious of teams that beat MFT last year, stabbing pastward]