Photo credit: The Alligator.

That leg! That charm! That musical Biblical name! The boys from Gainesville have found an electric new presence, a thunder-legged Legolas lasering long field goals lethally into the nets of Dixie’s toodly-oodliest of football gin joints. No, his name ain’t Ca-LEG, though you certainly think it could be from the way he uses it!

No, it’s CALEB, a moniker sure to be used as the first name of choice for a thousand bouncing babes across the Sunshine State, since the St. Augustine Striker has the state buzzing with the latest fad in Florida football, THE THREE POINT SKIDOO or THREE THE FOOTSKI WAY, a real hoo-dilly more commonly known in the ol’ rule book as “the field goal.”

Sturgis made double sure that the next time he puts on the old glad rags and gets a wiggle on at his local juice joint he’ll be crawling in Shebas by kicking THREE THREE POINT SKIDOOs tonight versus Mississippi State. What say you, nifty gypsy?

Sturgis, the St. Augustine Striker: “I’m glad I can help. I kick them when we can’t score from the five yard line.”

THAT’S RIGHT, YOU BIG SIX. It’s the craze that’s sweeping Florida football, daddy-o, and from the looks of it you’ll have plenty more chances to THREE POINT SKIDOO your way into being Florida’s most copacetic Heisman nominee this year. Dames: “He’s the bees’ knees!” Fellas: “He’s quite a fella!” Offensive coordinator Steve Addazio: HURRRRRRRRRNNNNGGGGGHHHH WHERE’S MAH THINKIN’ STICK HURGGGNNNNNGHHHH

From here at EDSBS Weekly: You’re the bees knees’, Caleb, and your crazy three-point dance has doing the lindy hop trying to keep up! GET HOT, GONE DADDY!!!

Florida’s offense has reduced us to Jazz Age jibberish. We don’t know what’s going on, either, unless the idea was to feature Caleb Sturgis in this year’s offense exclusively.

#11 Ohio State @ Toledo
Ohio State IS Johnny Cash IN Walk the Line. Jim Tressel, you can’t just keep doing the same songs over and over? And you sure as hell can’t do it in front of a rabid crowd of people who’ve killed people? You are incorrect, record executive/football pundit. Sweatervest will trot out his shufflin’, two-note bass line lovin’ Tennessee Trio of an offense again and again until someone puts his head in the John Cooper memorial guillotine, confidently plowing ahead with convention in front of an audience condemned to imprisonment. (more…)

A parallel universe. Star quarterback Mohammed Al-Tebayii approaches the stage.

Praise be to Allah and his only prophet Mohammed, and Go Gators. Madame, please cover your hair and go behind that screen. You are making me nervous with your chin and visible mouth. My religion does not approve.

Praise be to Allah that he has seen to give me so many talented teammates, the blocking to keep out infidel pass rushers, and my brother, Brandon Spikes, who crushes those who would oppose our jihad by even considering running up the middle. To Allah all praise is due.

The sword shall fall on Charleston Southern tomorrow. They stand in the way of our holy war against all that is evil in college football. May God mete out the punishment that is due to them, and let their blood water the grass of Florida Field so that its brilliant green may shine into the next week and forever.

We shall take their complex blitz packages seriously, or at least as seriously as you have to take a team that placed third in the Big South Conference last year.

They shall be destroyed, inshallah, before the second quarter’s close. Then I shall sit on the bench and wear a headset while jumping up and down enthusiastically. Let Allah be praised, and let us wreak fiery destruction upon the enemy unto our caliph Meyer’s satisfaction.

Praise to all Albert’s creation, and may God Bless You all, except the infidels here, who shall die in a fiery apocalypse of their own making. Apologies. That’s not really negotiable here.

“The girls at Boise State have this weird genetic mustache trait.” “They eat fried cat paw in Utah.” It’s filthy and brilliant, and earns points for having two white guys who don’t attempt the Affected White Rapper With Black Accent. Also, they just spend the last minute or so making jibberish noises and saying nonsensical phrases like “I’m going to take a chance/ And have unprotected sex in France.”

Listen and stand back from the speakers, because it really might give a hater permanent insomnia, have your girl droolin’ for their toolin’, and turn a sucker mc into a pumpkin on the first listen.

One quibble: “Retard Erickson likes it on the back door/usually on the bathroom floor.” Untrue. Back in the seventies the Cap’n might have let a woman tap gently on the garden gate to Prostate Park, but once the eighties came along and everyone got sane it was strictly private property signs back there and all business to the front entrance, please.

Oh, and good morning to you. TWO DAYS GET YOUR WAR ON ALL CAPS GRRRRRRR.

Sean Weatherspoon. Preseason All-American. Senior linebacker for the Missouri Tigers. Ghost Town DJs fan. Golden-throated R ‘n B stunner of tomorrow. All of them at once, actually, but you don’t get a complex burrito of a man like this without stretching the metaphorical tortilla of one man’s potential to its limits. Call him half-price Jodeci, because he’s K-Ci and Jo-Jo in one man.

…and we have our new favorite linebacker in the Big 12, because anyone who appreciates the Ghost Town DJs and who form tackles well is a friend of this site. (HT: Mizzourah.)

If you’ve devoured Michael Lewis’s endlessly fascinating The Blind Side (as we have) and followed the amusing updates of cameos by Saban, the Orgeron, et al in the upcoming film adaptation (ditto), then you’ve probably been waiting with bated breath for the film’s wide release in November. If that’s the case, then Chris Mottram is going to throw some very cold water on those dreams, for he’s got the film’s trailer up over at Mr. Irrelevant, and . . . well, see for yourself:

Got that? Did you count up all the things that looked wrong? Good, now check the answer key after the jump and let’s see how you did: (more…)

YellaWood and Golden Flake present
an EDSBS/Hey Jenny Slater co-production

SCENE: A muggy midsummer day in an expansive backyard in a Knoxville suburb. Five young men occupy a treehouse high in the branches of a stately oak: Tennessee head coach LANE KIFFIN, assistant coaches ED ORGERON, EDDIE GRAN and LANCE THOMPSON, and strength and conditioning coach AARON AUSMUS. KIFFIN bangs a mallet on a wooden box.

KIFFIN: This meeting of our super-secret club will now come to order! Gentlemen, I have called you all here because you are my best friends and the perfect people to become charter members of the most secret club in all of Tennessee. You can’t tell anyone about our clubhouse or about this meeting, understood?

ORGERON: WHEDDUHSNAXXAT? AHWONSUMMOHTATTACHIPS!

GRAN: What’d he say?

THOMPSON: I think he said he wants some more potato chips.

KIFFIN: Dangit, Ed, you just ate the entire can of Pringles! If I want more, I’m gonna have to go all the way down and sneak some out of the kitchen, and my dad’s down there! Now, the first order of business is to decide what kind of club this is gonna be, and I’ve got an idea that I think is really —

AUSMUS: The superhero justice league!

KIFFIN: No, Aaron, that’s stupid —

THOMPSON: Pirates!

GRAN: Mike Leach already took pirates.

ORGERON: WAMPRATUNNAJUNGAFATTINFOWAHHSS!

GRAN: What’d he say?

THOMPSON: Swamp rat, jungle — OK, I have no idea.
(more…)

AP–HOUSTON, TEXAS. Greg Paulus’ move to football from basketball may not be all it’s cracked up to be, says someone who should know.

The kneebrace limits his movement, but even now Dikembe Mutombo can feel the rush of tiny feet beneath him scoring touchdown after touchdown as he backpedals across his living room.

“I WISH HIM LUCK, BUT TO PLAY FOOTBALL IS SOOOOO HARD,” said Mutombo through a translator.

Disenchanted with the NBA, Mutombo received a waiver from the NCAA in 2003 to play defensive back for Ty Willingham at Notre Dame, using his final year of eligibility the Congolese center had left from his time at Georgetown to attend graduate school at Notre Dame.

Graduate school allowed him to try something a friend of his suggested mere months before. (more…)

Texting. Anyone can do it.

If you haven’t seen Texts from Last Night, we’re about to alleviate the poverty of your existence with a bailout of unprecedented comic size and pork-itude. Taken from reader-submitted text messages sent in various impaired states or shortly thereafter, it’s pretty much a rundown of your wasted years that you may either look fondly back on, or use as a basis of comparison for your current dissolute life. (We feel much, much better about ourselves after reading it.)

There’s no reason this couldn’t happen in our corner of the universe, of course. Or in yours, football-wise.

(404) How’d the date go? Run the triple option on her? LOL

(404) No. Ricky Jean-Francois ran in and took her before I could.

(more…)