Methods: proposed techniques for protecting Tim Tebow if/when he plays on Saturday. Assumed: that he will play on Saturday.

Run, run, run, run, run. Florida might go even more run-forward than they’ve been to this point, and that says a lot. Florida’s run/pass balance is 175/98 for 2009, and with a quarterback coming off a head injury the urge to get the ball out of Tebow’s hands and into someone else’s with great speed will be imperative. One might even see the long-rumored I-formation surface from the playbook at last. (Gasp!)

Do that. A lot.

Le WildGatorCatHogRebelBone Florida has no shortage of speedsters to plug into the various roles required to run whatever you would call Florida’s variation on the Wildcat: CB Joe Haden, RB Chris Rainey, RB/Human Jet Jeff Demps, RB Emmanuel Moody, and even WR Deonte Thompson could all fill spots in a direct snap, no-pass single wing formation to take impact-heavy run snaps away from Tim Tebow and lean on Florida’s formidable run game.

An innovative nine lineman set. Leaving one eligible receiver in the set and thus protecting Tebow while simplifying his options. Technically legal, though inadvisable unless that one receiver is Aaron Hernandez. If he’s out there you’ll be fine with just one if you throw it high and long enough.

Max protection. Typically Florida loves to go empty set on third down, the same set resulting in the blown protection yielding the sack, the subsequent knee–>head meetup, and the most Illustrious Heismanesque Concussion of the Year not involving Jim Brown and a woman. If Tebow is in the game, your chances of seeing max protection are very, very good, most likely using the H-back and TE to buffer protections on blitzes. And make no mistake: LSU will blitz Tebow if he plays. The empty backfield won’t appear in sets with Tebow much, we’re guessing, and if they do they’ll be motioned into one-back sets

Red No-Contact Jersey. There would be an illegal procedure penalty on the first down of the game, but conditioning is a hard thing to break. Urban myth: red angers defensive linemen. Untrue, since the waving and taunting motions of the quarterback are what actually attract them, not the color.

Pass, pass, pass, pass, pass. On the other hand, another way to protect Tebow might be counter-intuitive: passing like crazy to start. If you can go Texas Tech on LSU–who most likely expects the run-first strategy from Florida–you can get the ball out of Tebow’s hands and away before any harm befalls him. Until Taylor Potts’ concussion last week, Texas Tech’s qbs under Leach had avoided missing any real injury time at all thanks to schemes designed to read and react instantly to defenses. Scott Loeffler certainly has a few routes he can crib from the TT playbook in keeping Tebow squeaky clean and intact if he plays, routes designed to get the ball out, keep the Baby Rhino upright, and keep Florida’s offense humming away one humble nibble at a time against an exploitable LSU defense. (See: Mississippi State’s 374 yards against them.)

This is all dependent on Tebow getting the ball off quickly….one of the factors contributing to this situation to begin with along with a blown protection, a very random collision with a teammate, and an excellent play by a Kentucky defender. If he can’t make the read quickly and get the ball out, then the pass-first approach would really be the total madness skeptics accuse Mike Leach’s very sane logic of being.

Bubble-wrap. It would distract defenders, too, and leave them manically popping bubbles while ballcarriers run untackled up field.

Via Rich Brooks’ Twitter feed.

I sat there and waited for no particular purpose in the door. I was half in, half out, and admiring the fall air. It was as clean as my conscience and as dry as sherry. It felt good on a newly shaven face, like the hand of truth slapping a drunk on his last bender at five in the morning. A bird fell from the sky. I took it as a good sign. It’s all in the interpretation.

I turned back inside, picked up the doctor’s report, and aided and abetted the escape of a half-glass of single malt from its prison. Pleading guilty, your honor. A crime of passion I committed daily, but what else were you going to do with the dead hours of the day? The time stretched out in front of you like the legs of a faithless woman on clean white sheets. (more…)

Our national crisis needs its meter, and thus we introduce the Tim Tebow Concussion Watch. Despite suffering a nasty concussion in the game against Kentucky Saturday night, Tebow performed well on tests administered to him following Tuesday’s practice, though he cannot watch television or read yet per doctor’s orders, so we’ll move him up to EMMITT SMIFF CLARITY, not totally lucid, but certainly vastly improved from where he was Sunday morning and able to make garbled. commentary on NFL broadcasts for ESPN.

Lapsed and practicing Catholic alike, take heed: this is quite funny (if only for point-by-point textual accuracy.)

For our sake Tim was suplexed under Taylor Wyndham,
he suffered, died, and was buried in the turf…

If being raised Catholic taught us nothing, it was a fine respect for rote memorization, the absurdities of bureaucracy, and the need to run away from friendly older men.

One parallel we’re thinking of in model, but certainly not degree: Brook Berringer. The only real comparison for a team attempting back-to-back national titles with a backup is Nebraska, a team so dominant the only real parallel here is in the switching to a backup qb because of an injury to a starter. DO YOU HEAR ME NEBRASKAVOLK: YOUR TEAM WAS THE BEST EVER AND CRUSHED ALL IT SAW. Settle down.

We’re not comparing the two in quality, but in terms of situation. Nebraska lost Frazier for seven games in the 1994 season to blood clots, and Berringer came in as a junior and performed brilliantly, going 7-0 before yielding the job to turbohuman Frazier for the title game against Miami. (more…)

Kentucky is this week’s fox, as the Duke of Wellington used to describe the opponent just prior a battle. He had his vanquished foes wrapped in foie gras and cooked in puff pastry after their defeat. He was a serious man.

Beautiful ladies of Kentucky cheer on the team from atop their gorgeous steeds. That came out sounding more salacious than we wanted it to, actually.

The Fox has the following advantages of terrain, behavior, and natural ability. This is a road game, but not like a “Frodo-stepping-into-Mordor” road game. Kentucky is an underrated game environment by definition, largely because no one bothers to rate it in the first place, and because the locals come to the game to socialize, are quite friendly and generous with their bourbon, and do not flinch when you bring a horse into the stadium. (more…)

Link: here.

Excerpted from Rich Brooks’ innovative hard-boiled third-person autobio:

He stared out the window. Miami. Again, Miami. He came to all the places in his life by accident except Miami. He drank the whiskey from the glass. It was good. Four cubes of globe-shaped ice died to make this whiskey as good as it was, he thought. Like four decades of life spent chasing dreams that wore pretty dresses and told even prettier lies once the lights went off. He drank the whiskey. Because it was good.

The breeze blew through the windows. It kissed his cheeks like a whore kisses a schoolboy. It passed over the bed.

The empty bed.

Oh, well, he thought. You can always find another one, he thought. Another one to tell pretty lies. Another one who was always sick, either in the heart or in the head. Another one to leave you with an empty bed and the mistress in the bottle who always stayed faithful. He would have cried if he had tears. He was past that now, though. He looked out at the beach and saw an ocean. It was full of dead sailors’ tears. No shortage of those, he thought.

He drank the whiskey, which was good, and thought about ordering some eggs. He was in need of a clean white shirt and a dirty brown woman to samba away the night with while the stars looked down on them without pity or judgment.

–From Rich Brooks’ third person autobiography, Rich Brooks: Life’s a Bastard Chasing After Bitches In Love With Other Bastards So You Should Just Have a Grim, Relaxing Glass of Scotch. This is your weekly reminder that life is pain, and Rich Brooks is a fucking badass. (HT: SB Nation.)

Welcome to our Factor Five Five Factor Preview Ole Miss at South Carolina. The Factor Five Five Factor Preview examines the necessaries and completely arbitraries of the official beginning of your weekend, the Thursday Night special featuring the Emotive Olympics between Steve Spurrier and Count Giggity. Grimace! Sweat! Nail-bite! Non-surreptitious nose-pick! Theatrics will be had no matter if the game turns into an abominable 7-3 puntfest, because both coaches wear their gameplans on their faces. Considering this is a South Carolina game, a puntfest is a real live possibility; then again, Houston Nutt is coaching the other team, so a 38 overtime death march ending at 4 am is equally possible.

Cocky will kill your boyfriend. Just a regular reminder from the Safety Patrol at EDSBS.com.

Enjoy.

Category one: Nebulous Statistical Comparisons of Dubious Validity. Ole Miss presents this from their bag of misleading data: they are proud holders of the 35th ranked pass defense in the nation right now, a stat garnered off stellar performances against Memphis, who did not attempt a non-lateral pass or bother to heave the ball downfield at all against them in Ole Miss’s flu-stricken matchup with them, and from numbers gathered versus the challenging aerial attack of Southeast Louisiana.

They will have to hold that rank to hold South Carolina in check. (more…)

Urban Meyer joins us for a quick interview.

Orson: Coach Meyer?

EDSBS: Thanks for joining us Coach Meyer. We want to start with a simple question: given the lackluster performance in the Tennessee game and the resulting ennui in the week after the game, and the shortcomings at receiver, and the mild panic over the offense’s lack of production… (more…)

The Ole Miss lockerroom in Columbia, SC, Thursday, September 24th just prior to kickoff. There is the sound of a church organ humming from an indistinct spot somewhere in the locker room.

HOUSTON NUTT enters surrounded by a choir of African-American ladies.

Count Giggity: GIGGITAH, REBELS!!!

Rebels team: GIGGITAH!!!!

Count Giggity: MY CHILDREN WHAT A BLOTARKUS BANGFANGLED GAME WE HAVE IN FRONT OF US!!! GIGGITAH!!!

Rebels tea: GIGGITAH!!!

Jevan Snead leans over to Dexter McCluster.

Snead: Any idea what that means yet?

McCluster: No. I don’t understand a word this magnificent, addled genius ever says. (more…)

DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!

It’s Tennessee/Florida, and therefore creeping death time. We’ll be all but useless for the next three hours at least, but feel free to make coherent and incoherent comments below.

So let it be written
So let it be done
I’m sent here by the chosen one
So let it be written
So let it be done
To kill the first born pharaoh’s son
I’m creeping death

Substitute “the defensive coordinator’s son” and it’s perfect. Inshallah, we shall see you covered in glory and the blood of the enemy on the other side.