If you’re an SEC fan of a certain vintage, you probably have vivid memories of former Kentucky head coach Hal Mumme: looked like Ted Danson’s awkward younger brother, called plays like a desperate bizarro-world Steve Spurrier, and was characterized by the near-constant presence of a jaunty neck towel that had to have been perpetually sodden with the floppiest of flop sweats. His four-year tenure at UK read like the Cliffs Notes version of a Scorsese mafia epic — lifted the Wildcats up out of decades-long obscurity to only their third back-to-back bowl appearances in program history, but painted this veneer of success on a rickety structure of malfeasance and staff infighting, and flamed out in the third act as player payments were exposed and the ‘Cats were pile-driven into 2-9 embarrassment. Mumme is now the head coach at Division III McMurry University, which currently does not have a name or mascot for any of its athletic teams as a result of the NCAA striking down its former nickname, the Indians, on the basis that it could be seen as offensive to Native Americans.

I’ve got my towel, I’ve cut all the checks . . . let’s light this candle.

As Mumme prepares for his first season at McMurry, Lexington Herald-Leader columnist John Clay took it upon himself to track down Mumme’s UK staff and find out where they’d ended up. What he found was less than inspiring: Of Mumme and his 11 original assistants from 1997, only five are employed at D-IA programs in any capacity; four are college head coaches; two are coaching at the high-school level; and two are out of coaching entirely (though one of them has the convenient excuse of being dead since 2006).

The most successful of these gentlemen, obviously, is Mike Leach, currently leading his rowdy band of pirates at Texas Tech to regular bowl appearances; oddly enough, the guys with the next most prestigious jobs on the list were mere graduate assistants under Mumme. Chris Hatcher is the head coach at Georgia Southern (and being mentioned with increasing frequency as a candidate for D-IA jobs), while Sonny Dykes is breathing life into a formerly moribund passing attack as Arizona’s offensive coordinator.

There is, of course, one guy who still rates a grade of “incomplete”: Tony Franklin, running backs coach under Mumme and currently offensive coordinator at MTSU. At the moment, Franklin is known primarily for being the catalyst that started the Tommy Tuberville administration down the road to doom in its last year at Auburn, a dubious distinction indeed; but if he can work the same wonders at MTSU that he did at Troy, who knows, he might have a D-IA coaching gig in him yet, thereby eclipsing both his old bosses something fierce. The spread offense indeed works in mysterious ways.

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If you’re of orange-and-white extraction and a relative young’un like me, you’ve enjoyed respectable if not notable football success for most of your cognizant life. You are also threatened by change, and you may not know what to make of this young whippersnapper Kiffykins strolling the sacred halls of Neyland. He’s arrogant; he’s got a funny accent; he delivers his addresses like an under-prepared sixth-grader giving a book report, and oooohweeee, has he ever stirred up a hornets’ nest in the papers.

But here’s a fun little test. On one side of an argument are Paul Finebaum and Gregg “Greg” Doyel; on the other, Bruce Feldman and Matt Hinton. Who would you rather have in your corner?

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Liveblog: 8 p.m. B.Y.O.B. and let it rock.

Hi. You know who I am. This thumb’s for you, Colt McCoy, because you’re a champion who takes my breath away and turns in slow motion away from onrushing defenders bent on crushing you. You took the highway to the danger zone but took the exit toward Victory Lane, and for that I’m buzzing your tower and oiling myself up for a one-on-one volleyball game. You’re invited.

No more playing with the boys, Colt: just you and me, a Colt and a Maverick out in the field doing what animals do. I’m bringing this thumb. Let’s role play: this time, you be Sam Bradford, and I’ll be Brian Orakpo and Sergio Kindle.

This is your open thread for the afternoon. We don’t judge you, whatever you’d like to do with or to Colt McCoy and the rest of the magnificent Texas Longhorns, who played the finest game of the year thus far against the Oklahoma Sooners. Boom. Motherfucker.

The non-royal we are both viewing games with actual corporeal humans to-day, so y’all are on your own until our egos are through writing checks our bodies can’t cash.

Rules of engagement are written for your safety and for that of your team. By all means, enjoy yourselves.