In a land wracked by war, twelve men…

…will be joined by an unlikely thirteenth… (more…)

We just watched the end of what we thought was the first half of the Armed Forces Bowl: a time-saving pass-intensive four down sequence ending in a field goal, a kickoff, and…that’s the half.

Incorrect: the first quarter was ending with the score 17-7, meaning the Armed Forces Bowl has gone just as planned: two of the most aggressive and college-licious offenses running sluttily up and down the field unimpeded by your “defenses.” Air Force is currently holding our heart in its hands thanks to the repeated and vicious fullback running of Aaron Kirchoff Jared Tew, which is already priming us nicely for the fun of watching Jonathan Dwyer through LSU’s midfield tonight.

This game, btw, will last seven hours at this pace. We hope you packed provisions.

The Armed Forces Bowl is just getting started. Bring enough water.

This quote from Cincinnati offensive coordinator Jeff Quinn struck us as being really, really inaccurate:

“As I always said, you never underestimate the spirit of a human being,” Quinn said. “A lot of times you look at profile, height, weight and things of that nature. But you can never really see what’s in a kid’s chest, in his heart and what’s between his ears and his smarts.”

Rey Maualuga disagrees. You can see all of that if you hit someones hard enough in the sternum or skull. T.J. Ward also disagrees with your statement, as you can clearly see Zac Robinson’s amygdala fly from his ear on this hit, which we’re posting twice because it gives us a rage-boner like you wouldn’t believe.

Good lord: the Armed Forces Bowl is on. Consider the comments an open thread for the early game today, and please leave work. No one’s getting anything done thinking about the hot sex of Dave Wannstedt appearing on their television in two hours anyway.

Fuzzy, wobbly, but still on two legs following the Alcoholacast. MVP this morning? The cups of water we were chugging in between what turned out to be about 1.5 bottles of champagne consumed during the game last night. Feeling better than Zac Robinson, though:

After the jump, please find LaGarrette Blount’s muscular run through the slap-happy Oklahoma State defense, who clearly had no idea what kind of angry livestock they were attempting to rustle on this play. Index along in a minute:

(more…)

We have a direly awesome situation, as the Holiday Bowl Alcoholocast is going into the second half. Pace yourselves and join us at your own risk, and join by clicking on the link below.

INTO THE MOUTH OF THE KRAKEN.

We’ll be drinking champizzle for the EDSBS Live! Alcoholocast. We recommend you join us on Talkshoe…

…and then watch as we haphazardly employ the rules of the Holiday Bowl drinking game to disastrous effect. As commenters have pointed out, if we drink every time someone scores, we could be speaking with Dylan Thomas directly and personally by halftime. Either way nothing’s going gently into that good night with this game.

Hear you then.

The Roady’s Humanitarian Bowl is on at 4:00 EDT. It features Maryland and Nevada, though no one’s sure why, exactly. This is a metapreview of that game, meaning it was written while staring into a heatlamp while snorting ground-up ritalin off a razor blade, and contains little actual information of the direct sort.

TEARS OF THE BUN: SCENE ONE

SCENE: Refugee camp, Boise, Idaho. Extras cough theatrical coughs in between wailing at the sky. A low thumping from the east reveals helicopters thumping their rotors against the brilliant yellow blastlight of a rising sun. The choppers touch down.

Armed men exit. Colonel RALPH FRIEDGEN enters the frame, his handsome chins framed in the light.

FRIEDGEN: Where are our support troops?

COMMANDER CHRIS TURNER steps into frame.

TURNER: They…there are only 800 of them at most, sir.

FRIEDGEN: We’re stranded out here.

TURNER: Yessir. That happens when you lose games down the stretch and Clemson actually travels to bowl games. It’s a heapshitpile, sir.

FRIEDGEN: Yes, it is.

TURNER: But the Roady’s guys gave us these goody bags full of over-the-counter methamphetamine substitutes and porn mags, coach. We’re not completely stranded.

FRIEDGEN: We could run…but that’s not what soldiers do. (more…)

Peter and ourself will be renewing an annual tradition of broadcasting our alcoholacast of a bowl game. The way this works: we get alcohol, set up some rules, and then broadcast the two of us regretting our decision for two hours as we hoark down far too much booze for a weeknight. Last year, during the Independence Bowl, we started slurring our speech more than usual. The goal this year will be to get weepy and confessional before TCOAN cuts off the mike. (”NO! I’m about to tell them where I put the body, baby! I CAN’T LIVE WITH THIS.”)

The rules are open to debate before our final announcement post tonight, so the proposed rules thus far for our Alcoholocast of tonight’s Oregon/Oklahoma State Pacific Holiday Bowl are:

Take a sip if:

–They show that goddamn whale.

–Chris Fowler gets huffy.
–Jesse Palmer happily admits to not knowing something.
–Craig James goes WOOOOOOO!!!!
–An Erin Andrews sign is shown
–A graphic makes a whooshing or metallic sound.
–References to Oregon’s uniforms are made.

Take a full-throated glug for:

–A score.
–A turnover.
–A Craig James giggle-fit
–An Anchorman reference
–An “I’m a man I’m forty” reference

Finish your drink for:

–Craig James being called “Pony”
–Mike Gundy getting angry on camera.
–A shot of Erin Andrews’ astonishingly spaced cricket wickets

Your submissions are solicited and encouraged below.

Let it be noted for the record that we thought Northwestern would suffer a bone-breaking fate at the hands of Missouri and, for the better part of four quarters, beat the Pinkelness out of the Tigers. Or revealed their Pinkelness. It’s hard to say without defining “Pinkelness,” and that would require several hundred pages of heavily jargoned academic literature with at least seventy pages of footnotes to do properly.

All we know is this: Pat Fitzgerald can coach his ass off, and that winning nine games at Vanderbilt-but-cold should require that his name be written with little hearts dotting the i’s on all Northwestern University stationery for the next year. Well played, Wildcats. Feel free to drive straight through any pedestrians in your way on our side of town.

Chase Daniel won, but not before having his delivery grievously interrupted by Northwestern.