Yeah, sure, you were about to say something. But fuck that shit: IT’S MARIO KART FOR THE WII, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!
More violent that GTA IV. And the roadside hookers in Mario Kart? Far more alluring than the meth-hounds you bang in GTA, especially because they’re Japanese, and therefore disturbingly kinky and capable of morphing into blue tentacled fuckbeasts at any time.
Perhaps Columbia has an open date on their schedule. Notre Dame, rebuffed by Rutgers in an attempt to move their proposed six game series to the Meadowlands for “home” games for the Scarlet Knights, makes the New York Times sassy. And we warned you: you won’t like them when they’re sassy.
How humble of Notre Dame to have visited Ronald Reagan in the Rose Garden at the White House on Jan. 18, 1989, resisting all temptation to call for a meeting at a neutral site more to its grandiose liking.
Ooooooh, Notre Dame you got done EXTERMINGUISHINFLAMMANATED by that one! The writer also points out Notre Dame has lots of fans in the northeast, explaining why the Irish may be making eyes at Syracuse for a new series, presumably played in a custom blue and gold painted Carrier Dome with the Irish spotted seven points to start in the first quarters. (Against Syracuse’s offense, that might do it.)
We’d like to tell you that you can start immediately. Because here at UCLA, our quarterbacks should have had their knees injured in a plane crash, see, but they never got on the plane, and now the Ghost of Knee Death is stalking them all. Seriously: please come to school early. Laters, Rick Neuheisel. (Apologies: that’s COACH Rick Neuheisel, until he loses eight games.–ed.)
It’s like Georgia Tech, but with the possibility of having sex as an undergrad. Taylor Bennett, last year’s starter at qb for the Yellow Jackets, transfers to Louisiana Tech. Paul Johnson is looking like a coach with extraordinarily blunt player relations skills, and we don’t mean that in a bad way:
“He told me what his plan was and where I fit in and what he saw me doing and that didn’t look like something I was interested in,” Bennett said. “I thank him for being honest with me.”
“Son, you cain’t run. And you cain’t pass. And I plan on runnin’, and sometimes passin’.”
Steve Spurrier is not Joe Paterno, because Steve Spurrier uses a computer, will take his shirt off and ride a bike around campus, and has not had to run off the field to avoid crapping his pants. All of these things can be said of homeless men living on Ponce de Leon Avenue, as well. (Judging from the library’s homeless/non-homeless reader ratio, the homeless are the Bohemian scholars of our day, until you realize they’re all voraciously reading Auto Trader and People.) But pulling the nepotism card while falling into mediocrity definitely makes you Paterno-esque. Brian is cold, heartless, and mean–but he is rarely wrong.
When he gets the adult-trike with the basket on the front: THEN he’s JoePa.
Picture Me Rollin’ has an interview with Ian Rapoport, the reporter who set off Nick Saban with a question about the Tide’s scholarship limit. Rappaport then challenged Nick Saban to a fight! And they ripped each other’s scalps off and slapped each other with them like they were silk gloves OMG!!!!111. Or, the press conference ended abruptly with an emotional answer and an awkward silence, much like your last date, single people. Rapoport is the mature media type about the whole thing:
When we discussed “the question”, Ian told me that, there again, the taped segment didn’t show the whole story. Ian insists that Saban had a crack of a grin as he was going through his answer and also that he was joking after he left the podium. He also indicated that because of his belief that Saban really does care about his players that the answer to “the question” must be very complex. He said otherwise he would have just given a quick answer but out of caring about the outcome he seems to be troubled by it and that is what Ian took away from the encounter.
Ian’s very mature. A scalp-slapping contest would have been a better ending, of course, but that’s reality for you.
“The most important thing is that we got out of here with no one getting hurt,” Robinson announced over the Dome’s public address system.
Dick Vermeil will end up crying over this whole thing before it is over. Mark our words.
Missing from the Aggies’s spring game: one 900 pound running back. Jorvorskie Lane did not participate in the spring game this past weekend, either because he had some kind of issue, is miffed over being moved to the fullback spot full-time in Mike Sherman’s new offense, or to save the structural pounding the stadium takes when he runs and shakes the lighting towers.
Or perhaps he’s just in musth.
Ape, baby, you have taken the red pill. A belated congratulations to the demented brain sitting atop the hairy, drag-knuckled frame of Christmas Ape for getting dooced by the Washington Post for his work on KSK. (Me rike!) Welcome to the Floating World full-time.
You don’t need to know that. What? Whatever. Fans don’t need to know. Anything.
I thought we could get through this without this stuff without an issue. But if you really wanna know how we’re gonna deal with it? I mean, really? Fine. I’ll let you know how we’re gonna deal with it.
—John Parker Wilson’s gonna go to Bonnaroo. And when he does, he’s gonna get the bad acid. We’ll call it Lyme disease and get him a medical exemption. Don’t ask me where we got the idea. You don’t need to know that, either.
—Jimmy Johns will leave to pursue a religious calling. He’s gonna go find a trust fund in his name for $250K in Buenos Aires and then scream, “Praise Jesus!” The trick is: he’s got to walk there. It’ll take him years, but we’re all about the process here at Alabama. I told Jimmy to watch the crocodiles in the Isthmus of Panama. He’s a good kid. He might make it.
—I will pit two of Shula’s signees against each other, and place both in a circle. The circle will be outlined in flames. Two shall enter; none shall leave. Because I’m going to have a sniper shoot the winner, and it’s all gonna happen in slow motion, because this is MY PRISON MOVIE, I’M THE WARDEN, AND YOU’RE ALL DANCING NANCIES IN MY SHAWSHANK SCRIPT!!!!
I also have an announcement, yes, an announcement everyone: there is a horde of killer bees loose on campus, and they’re following Leigh Tiffin around campus. Why he’s covered with honey, I don’t know. That’s why I returned to the college game: for young people, and the crazy things they do, like walking in front of a masked man carring a honey sprayer and a basket full of killer bees on campus and not thinking, “Oh, my, what’s a man doing with a mask on and a gun that sprays honey and a basket labeled “KILLER BEES”, nope not suspicious at all.” Gotta love that about college kids.
I believe that takes care of five scholarships right there. I mean, we’re praying for Leigh to recover.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I don’t have time for this shit.
Jokes, writing themselves. Us, standing back and trying not to ruin them.
Senior permanent captain Antoine Caldwell had his name misspelled in the cement along with the other Crimson Tide captains from years past. So now you can look and find Kenny Stabler, Johnny Musso, John Hannah and Atnoine Caldwell.
Oh, there are pictures, and they’re better than photoshop.
“John Parker Wilson, if you throw another pick you punk, I will run after you full speed every minute of every day for the rest of your life, you sissy-haired, seven-named tampon-frill!”
“Let me go! These people are paying me $4 million a year! CAN YOU SAY CRAZY?!?!??!! LET ME GO!!!”
“Coach, just the wallet, and no one gets hurt.”
JPW: “I’ll never wear summer-weight cotton! Never! Especially in that brown!”
Saban: “But it’s a must-have classic! It goes with everything!”
JPW: “It clashes with my complexion! Can you say jaundice, coach? Jaundice, I tell you!”
Or simply: “FREE RIBLET NIGHT ANNOUNCEMENT CAUSES CHAOS AT ALABAMA PRACTICE.”
SI also fronts a rehashed story by Rick Bragg, who talks about how Nick Saban bought his momma a house, how good fried pies are, and other non-threatening cornpone truths wrapped around a story about the hard-drinking, no count bastard that was his daddy.
Oh, no, no, no, no. This makes our gorge rise just reading it: details from the death of Ereck Plancher, the UCF freshman who died suddenly following conditioning drills last month.
One of the four players who spoke with the Sentinel, a veteran, disagreed, saying: “It was the toughest workout since I’ve been here. It definitely was not a light workout…
“Everybody was struggling at times,” one player said. “. . . But he [Ereck] was running, and I could tell something wasn’t right. His eyes got real dark, and he was squinting like he was blinded by the sun. He was making this moaning noise, trying to breathe real hard…”
All four players recall that O’Leary said to Plancher, “That’s a bunch of [expletive] out of you, son,” in the huddle. O’Leary denied cursing at Plancher but recalled telling people around him, “He’s better than that…”
Plancher was noticeably woozy and staggering as he tried to participate in the final jumping-jacks drill, the players said. The team finished those exercises, then huddled one final time. Plancher collapsed while walking away from the huddle, the players said.
There’s tragedy of multiple brands and tastes here. There’s also a quantity sure to become all too abundant for Plancher’s family and UCF: thousands and thousands of billable hours for attorneys.
Corn Nation informs us that the playbook at Nebraska–the 820,992 page Callahan-era monster–is still the playbook, only with the option, a few changes in terminology, some tweaks in the blocking scheme, and curly fries thrown in. Yay, complexity and curly fries!
Terrelle Pryor, bring hell with you. Because Todd Boeckman won’t go without a fight. That’s right, THE Todd Boeckman! You bring the beef, lawya, bettah bring you best, because TB is contagious, and there ain’t no cure once you get him, homey.
It’s a Finnish band with a Russian name wearing Kool World haircuts doing a Lynyrd Skynyrd song in English with the Red Army choir singing behind them. We don’t understand it either, but if they don’t play halftime at Bryant-Denny Stadium with this exact instrumentation and military vocal support, Alabama fans you have been cheated of something truly awesome.
He writhes in pain, contorting his shoulder. The other coaches stare in horror until he regains his composure and calmly removes the wrapper from an Oatmeal Pie.
Bama fan: Good to see Coach Nick Saban’s doing all the right things, up to and including making sure the place is safe from blunderbuss-wielding Auburn grads marauding the place on their battle cattle. Troglodytes.
Auburn fan: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (Takes deep breath.) aaahhBWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAAA….
Rinse, repeat, and shake until the metal ones turn us into livestock class of the 25th century.
From the Auburner comes a story of horror so overblown and provincial, it must be about the Auburn/Alabama rivalry. Overblown and provincial, however, is just our speed, so here you go:
The inclusion of the “Angels With Filthy Souls” line is a nice touch, as is the Golden Flake ad. Right now, Nick Saban is doing dips shirtless in a dark prison cell he calls home while watching this video to prepare for 2008.
Karma’s a motherfucker. Clemson’s losing tailbacks just after they cut Ray-Ray McElrathbey. Make a snide laugh now, because this will all end up with Tommy Bowden running through the streets of Clemson handing out cooked goose on Christmas and embracing crippled children. The part with the ghost of Christmas Past featuring Jackie Sherrill in the role will be especially frightening, because Sherrill will be naked and drunk.
Bears Necessity examines out of conference schedules and concludes that the Big East is the real out-of-conference road warrior–and that’s not just the Mountaineers calling in either with their traditional forty point bowl shootout. He also notes that business class on Singapore airlines rules. If it doesn’t come with a complimentary compulsory caning of a random passenger in coach for chewing gum too loudly in their seat, it’s NOT Singapore Airlines!
Bill Callahan had them playing tag, dammit. We would kill for an uncensored spring practice audio of Bo Pelini in his first spring as Nebraska head football coach working with the defense. According to Pelini:
“We’re not going to be out there playing tag”
Callahan wouldn’t call what he had the defense doing tag, exactly; rather, it was a “binomial game of optional tactical label transfer, with status dependent on pursuit, angle calculation, and escape strategies.” Or, yeah: tag.
“(Mafi’s) got a lot of hair,” coach Mike Sanford said, “and he plays with it on fire.”
Mafi’s playing for a starting spot at the hybrid DE/LB spot, marking yet another appearance of the Patriot end in college football out of a flexy 3-4 that can, in a snap, morph to a 4-3.
They call Alabama The Crimson Tide, so call me Faggy McGee. The greatest hangover/sleep deprivation song ever helped us through a long, airport delay-ridden day yesterday.
The story behind the chorus:
It was originally speculated that the song was written about the Wake Forest University Demon Deacons, but in a Rolling Stone interview, Donald Fagen said “Walter and I had been working on that song at a house in Malibu. I played him that line, and he said, “You mean it’s like, ‘They call these cracker assholes this grandiose name like the Crimson Tide, and I’m this loser, so they call me this other grandiose name, Deacon Blues?’ ” And I said, “Yeah!” He said, “Cool! Let’s finish it!”
Thank you, cracker assholes of Alabama, for making that song happen. Oh, and for beating us twice in 1999. That was awesome.
After FSU played in the Music City Bowl in December Geoff returned to Tallahassee and mentally prepared to endure the physically grueling spring workouts, which include mat drills and a strict weight room regimen, as well as his final semester as an undergraduate student. After the first day of mat drills he was called up to Coach Bobby Bowden’s office for a meeting with him. Coach Bowden explained that he was “surprised to see Geoff” at the 5 am mat drill because he was “under the impression that he was not to returning for his fifth year”, information he received from Trickett. After beating around the bush and looking like a fool who has know idea about decisions that are made for his own football team, he finally told Geoff that due to a “number crunch” he would not be receiving his fifth year of scholarship eligibility.
Nick Saban, another oversigner of recruits, has two medical hardships pending for the Crimson Tide this spring. Both appear to be on the level.
LSU defensive monster Ricky Jean-Francois is allegedly related to Kimbo Slice. We mention this only to affirm your already solid suspicion that if he does not cheat on another test and makes it to the playing field this fall, RJF will be takin’ food off lawyas’ plates just like his horrifying alleged relative. Because remember: our ultimate nightmare is being locked in a dimly lit shipping container with Kimbo at one end, five thousand dollars and a ham at the other, and us in the middle.
No, sir. The money AND the ham are both yours. Really, please.
Bill Cowher is not going to be the head coach at Penn State…but only if you’re foolish enough to believe the words coming out of his chin, sucker:
“Put that to rest,” Cowher said firmly yesterday. “I’m staying here.”
Laschout.com got really, really excited over the slumber party allegedly had by Cowher and Penn State officials, who are looking for some way to beat creeping death to the punch and bump Paterno up to glorified fundraiser and cheerleader status before on-field turmoil, off the field turmoil, or death-induced turmoil when he drops dead on the field drives Penn State into failed state status.
And that’s just how icy we stay here, dear reader, because Joe Pa is a lot closer to applesauce time than he is to winning the Big Ten ever again, school officials know it, and everyone’s terrified of saying it out loud in public because it would mean that despite being the greatest coach of his generation, Penn State officials ultimately judge him by his utility in the present, not his happy memories of the past. Only Bill Belichick, Richard Dawkins, and Steven Leavitt are fine being exposed as naked utilitarians. Everyone else has gotta keep their inner bastard on the down-low.
On the upside: it gives us an opportunity to post another fine bit of Mr2Cents’ work.
See? There’s work to be done yet.
Police and excessive force: like Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes, man. Steve Spurrier now gets to enter a new circle of hell as South Carolina football coach. This is the sixth ring, the one where you piss off the police department by suggesting that their time-honored methods of beating people bloody during arrests might be “excessive,” especially when it involves one of your football players. Spurrier does have one nice thing on his side in the debate over the treatment of Kevin Young, Gamecock football player: witnesses.
Kevin McCrarey, a co-host on the South Carolina News Network’s SportsTalk show, said he was leaving a nearby bar around 1:30 a.m. when three or four officers ran by him on Harden Street. McCrarey said he saw an officer repeatedly punch one of the combatants, whom he later learned was Young, in the head with a closed fist.
“I think his rights were violated. Just because you get in a fight … he got beat up by police. I really believe that,” McCrarey said. “I don’t know police procedure, but the guy from behind was just swinging. He must have thrown 10 or 15 punches. Then they got him down, and they were still hitting him.”
Wait for Spurrier to be arrested with a pound of heroin and five unregistered firearms on his passenger seat in the next three days after being pulled over for “a busted tail light.” Though in reality, sexiness as unbridled and irresistable as Spurrier should have been arrested long, long ago.
EDSBS Store Live it. Love it. Wear it until it's ripped from your body by envious hordes of tailgaters.
Locker Room
About us
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.
Contact
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.
Come with me, young man.
Loading ...
