Brandon Carter, your new facepaint for the Oklahoma game awaits this year: Stephen Good, starting right guard for the Oklahoma Sooners, is terrified of Pennywise.

What’s something about yourself that not many people know?

I’m afraid of clowns. The movie “It” got to me.

It’s okay. We all float down here, Stephen. If you didn’t see IT when you were a kid, we can save you the trauma and summarize it thusly: you get scared shitless by a clown that talks to you from the drains and tries to persuade you to join him in the gutter, and then watch as it turns out he’s just a poorly animated stop-motion animation monster of little substance in the finale. In other words, he’s what every non-Tennessee fan hopes Lane Kiffin’s narrative arc as football coach at Tennessee will be. Glad we could save you the time, and good luck sleeping anyway thinking about a.) what will happen if that’s not true, and b.) Tim Curry talking to you from sewer grates. (HT: Barking Carnival.)

Something’s not quite right with Eric Berry’s Heisman campaign.

The billboard’s executed well enough; the website is good for an afternoon chanting fix and full of shiny pictures, but there’s just a little je ne sais quois missing. That sense of urgency, not the kind that comes with a tight scoreboard race, but the kind that conveys (CORRECTLY) that the only way to restore balance to an orange universe thrown completely off-kilter by a certain defender’s usurpation of a certain highly coveted trophy is to have the award bestowed on a defender of our own. To wit:
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There’s not a whole lot to add to this story, so we’re deferring to Littmann’s take: “Edwards got his foot caught in a lawn mower.”

That would be Armanti Edwards of Appalachian State, he who gave Michigan such fits in the portentous 2007 season opener, and who despite GETTING HIS FOOT CAUGHT IN A LAWN MOWER is expected to make a full and speedy recovery in time for kickoff.  Details at this point are sketchy, other than there being a LAWN MOWER involved, but we hope you’ll find our artist’s rendering as entirely plausible as we do:

Quoth ‘Freek: “Revenge is a dish best served cold, and usually from  lawnmowers and woodchippers.”  Carr’s got nothing but time, man. Nothing. But. Time. [SFX: meeeeowwwSNAP!]

Scene: The post Big Ten Media Day dinner at Gibson’s Steakhouse in Chicago. Rich Rodriguez is dining at a table with several Michigan types. Jamie Foxx sits down at the table next to Rich Rodriguez.

RR: Hey! Weren’t you in Booty Call?

JF: Among other things, yeah, man.

RR: I remember that. You put a rubber glove on your stuff instead of a condom. That was GREAT.

JF: Thank you. What do you do?

RR: Well, I coach football. At the University of Michigan. But we had a pretty bad year last year.

RR looks hurt. He trails off.

JF: Hey, now. Let’s turn that frown upside down. You can talk about it.

RR: Naw, it’s…it’s difficult for me. It was so painful.

JF: It can’t be that bad, man.

RR: (pauses) We lost to Toledo.

JF: Oh, now, I didn’t know it was like that. You’re gonna have to sing that one out.

RR: I’m sorry?

JF: It’s the only way you’ll feel better about it. I’ll drop the beat for you, and you can just sing it. You heard my hit song, “Blame it on the Alcohol?”

RR: Have I? You bet. Gary Moeller loves that jam.

JF: Well, I just lay the track down like this…

RR: Really, I don’t know if I could…

Sultry drum machine kicks in. Rich Rod pulls an autotuned mike from his pocket.

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Someone is benefitting from the entire Erin Andrews video scandal: hackers, who have taken the internet’s finally fulfilled obsession with ERIN ANDREWS NAKED and played it to their advantage by posting links to the peephole camera video taken of Andrews by a reprehensible person at a hotel, and then feeding requesting PCs a bushel of viruses.

The official EDSBS policy on this is that Ms. Andrews has been wronged grievously, and that the person behind this should be bankrupted not just for their invasion of her privacy, but also for their intrusion on the privacy of others. From what we understand, this was a completely random act, and in an alternate universe could have been you or us standing there getting our goods pasted all over the internet for profit. That her celebrity has exacerbated the initial violation is an even sadder occurrence, and far exceeds the reasonable cost of fame in its severity.

With that said, we feel we need to publish what we have in the name of full disclosure. New information has come to light, and we cannot sit on it any longer. We did not film this, nor do we intend to sell it. We do not claim it is in fact anyone in particular, and will not comment on any resemblances other than to say this: we have made this SFW, and that if this is who we think it is, then this could very well be the media scandal of the century.

You have been warned. (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.
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From,
The Internet (all of it)

Hi. Tom here. Happy to talk with you today. I’m honored that after so many years, so long after I got my first chance to coach that special team in red and white, people still come up to me and want to talk Nebraska football. It’s a special thing, and I want you all to know how much I appreciate that.

I know that outside the borders of our fine state, this is not the case. Some people might say I’m too bland to be included in the discussion of great coaches. That is just fine with me. You know, doing all that winning could get kind of boring for those not fortunate enough to live here. Perhaps they’re right: hard work and planning aren’t always interesting. We as coaches do all the boring things you do. We do the fun things, too, though. We go to parties with friends.

We try not to forget our friends. We take the same corny photos you take, no matter who we are. (more…)

Director: …and we’re rolling in 3…2…

Lou Holtz: Wait, wait. This feels…wrong.

Director: Okay, Lou. We’re cut for time here, so make it quick.

Holtz: Don’t tell me we’re in a rush. I taught Sam Peckinpah everything he knows about movies. The rape scene in Straw Dogs? My idea from the start, though mine involved an octopus, a pinata full of bees, and Shelley Winters with a bullwhip.

Director: I’m sorry, but I can’t believe you–

Holtz: Listen up! I know movies, and this film lacks something. A spark. A little pizzazz. You got nothin’! A big poor kid, Sandra Bullock with a bad Mississippi accent, and not a pirate, hot dame, or gunfight in sight. What’s a movie without these? I’ll tell you what it is. A vagina for the eyes.

Director: I don’t even know what that means.

Holtz: ‘Course you don’t.

Sandra Bullock: Hey, I have a dialect coach from Steel Magnolias, I’ll have you know–

Holtz: And a dancing coach from the Pegleg Olympics and Amelia Earhart for flying lessons. Neither one will get over the Pacific or onstage with an Emmy, sweetie.

Sandra Bullock: Oscar.

Holtz: No, it’s Lou, but thanks. Listen, amateurs. I did all my pitching to recruits with my best foot forward. And by foot, I mean 12 inches. So that’s how it should be done.

Director: Um, if you could just put your pants back on, Lou, we’d really like to–

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This is just the tip of the iceberg for Oregon’s uniforms in 2009, really. Wings? Drake, pleeeeaaaaase. There are so may other ways this could go well, and by well I mean “with Oregon fans gouging out their eyes with plastic concession stand forks before kickoff.”

Like a mad hippo with radioactive paint on his ass. For instance: tackling LeGarrette Blount is hard already, but have you tried it in the dark? As part of Oregon’s revolutionary new effort to be the greenest football program in the nation, join the Ducks for the night game against Purdue, where the “Lights Out For the Earth” night will feature college football’s first light-free night game!

PS. Don’t tell Purdue.

PPS. Don’t worry about the health risks of the possibly radioactive dye used in these uniforms. The Burmese tykes who stitched these together seemed just fine last time we saw them, and they were practically rolling in the stuff.

These are strictly non-denominational, of course. Holidays got you down? BAM! Festivity in cleats comin’ atcha! No way you spend another Christmas with scotch in one hand and a handgun in another with Oregon’s joyous new holiday attire, the Festivus Shockers. (more…)