Tooter Sooner!

SI’s got their archives mostly open and running, a boon for tweedy archvists like ourselves and something that had us sprinting straight for rock star Rick Telander at his most glorious: the February 29th, 1989 article “You Reap What You Sow,” which for the EDSBS underclassmen will serve as a cheat sheet (pun!) for what we mean when we say something is “Barry Switzertastic” in terms of program mismanagement and lax discipline.

We remember the exact instant when we read this article: sitting in a Fantastic Sam’s in a strip mall in Franklin, Tennessee, waiting on a haircut with Mom and vacillating between adolescent moral horror and unabashed admiration for the gusto Oklahoma’s football players displayed in their abuse of petty privilege.

A few of the finer cuts:

Earlier that week he had lectured children at a nearby grammar school about the evils of drug use. “Regardless of what anyone has told you about drugs,” he told the youngsters, “they’re the quickest way to end your life, the quickest way to be in jail.”

Three days later the FBI charged Thompson with having sold 17 grams of cocaine for $1,400 to an undercover agent on Jan. 26.

And:

Parks, who reportedly had been drinking, barged in and angrily confronted Peters about a cassette tape that he claimed Peters had borrowed. Peters told Parks he didn’t know what he was talking about. The two had gone to high school together in Houston, and Peters knew of Parks’s volatile temper. But Peters was much bigger—240 pounds to Parks’s 176—and once the shouting turned to shoving, Parks was on the floor.

In a rage, Parks bolted from the dorm and into the parking lot. He returned with a Harrington & Richardson eight-shot .22-caliber revolver. He threatened Peters with it and was taunted in return. “You’re not going to do anything,” said Peters. “I dare you! Go on, shoot me! Shoot me!” Peters stepped forward and pushed Parks yet again. Parks shot him. The bullet missed Peters’s heart by three inches. Parks fled to neighboring Jones Hall, where he was apprehended by university police officers. “I’m the one who did it,” police quoted Parks as saying. “I had no choice.”

The next time someone complains about “kids these days,” just send them this link and remind them that “crazy-ass motherfucker” has never gone out of style.

Brian brings us this week’s Big Board, an active board for those who really, really don’t have time for this shit. Notes, clarifications, and open challenges to fight follow.

The biggest leap in the board comes from Oregon State. Do not blame us, blame the authorities who file the charges and insist on playing triple-word-score with the charges for otherwise five/six point crimes.

Al Afalava, a three-year starter for the Oregon State football team’s defense, was cited for criminal mischief, which is a felony, DUII and hit-and-run by the Corvallis Police on Feb. 9, according to Corvallis Police Department public information officer Lt. Dave Henslee.

See? Corvallis police charge him with everything including “untidy arrangement of vehicular garbage resulting in messy crash scene,” and by rule we spit out points like a broken ATM. Blame the Farvas at the Corvallis police department and drunkass Al Afalava for the skewed charges, not us. Mike Riley says he can tell Aflalava’s making a tackle just from the sound. Now the Corvallis police have the same ability.

Alabama makes the first of two ironic scores in the Cupdate. Your team captain gets arrested for disorderly conduct! No salt or pepper needed! Take that scotch neat, you will. Add in the Elder armed robbery arrest, and we’re talking magic.

Louisville went a-road tripping, and oh what a time that was. We awarded two bonus points for this one, but with the charges as they stand, even the brazen gusto of robbing a convenience store (and on a school night, young man) doesn’t tally up the pile of points Alabama and Oregon State racked up. Even so, the Farking is good to you and good for you in this case.

HT: Reed. He does reek of triumph, with just a hint of hot dog roller.

Double your irony at no extra charge: Iowa players get busted for drug charges while Kirk Ferentz, attempting to right the ship, is actually on the Iowa Hawkeye Booster Cruise. “Shore to ship, can you hear me–” “Umm, no…you’re breaking CHHHRRRGGGGGFAKEMOUTHNOISEKKRRRGGGG up KRRRGGHHHH…”

Kansas loses points due to a clerical error on our part: the trumped up “dog-on-the-loose” charge has been dismissed due to PeteJayhawk’s diligent work, informing us that the player in question is a fifth-year senior with no eligibility left. Not on the team, not in the tally.

Post your compliments, gratuitous stroking of our ego, and cries from the WAAAAAAHHHHHHmbulance below. And pleading for points is just perverse, unless you’re from the U. Then you’re just trying to compete like competitors would, playa. (We’re looking at you, Barstoolio!)

The Big Board for this week, brought to you by Brian, who is hung like Reggie F’n Nelson.

The new charges, notes, and clarifications:

The Vols pick up two for Faison’s DUI and continue to win the team award: five arrests in total only have them at the eight point mark, meaning they may be kings of the junk bond market, but in points alone they’re trailing due to the spectacular tallies of Missouri and Illinois.

Oregon enters due to the weird charge of “running a drug house,” a charge that must be from the civil code of Oregon or something since we’ve never heard it before. On paper, it merely looks like receiver Derrick Jones was arrested for contempt of court, so for the moment we’ll assess the Ducks with a mere two points. If the charges blossom into something spectacular–JONES HAD LIVE TIGER, WORLD IS MINE NEON FOUNTAIN SCULPTURE IN DRUG MANSION–then we’ll modify. For now, two points it is.

Note that Missouri and Illinois are up there for individual accomplishments, and so may both end up being Ellis T. Jones III candidates for individual achievement, not Fulmer Cup winners.

Urban Meyer finds suspensions very harsh, usually. That’s what we’re fond of typing, anyway, since there’s been nary a peep out of Herr Meyer since the Ronnie Wilson AK-47 firing incident in downtown Gainesville, or since Brandon James was implicated in a reverse sting operation involving the purchase of weed from a Gainesville police officer and participated in an FnDC incident earlier this year, bringing drama and bustin’ snitches like Terry Tate on a rampage through the cubicles.

Meyer has finally addressed both, according to Pat Dooley of the Gainesville Sun. (HT: The Sporting Orange.) Wilson will receive a year’s suspension from the program, missing the 2007 season entirely, a firm but not final punishment made possible by the reduction of the charge in the case to a misdemeanor. (Viva la Liberal Gun Laws in Florida!) This suspension does not preclude the possibility of Wilson rejoining the team, the little extra wrinkle typical of most of Meyer’s disciplinary decisions: there’s almost always a chance for redemption or sliding, depending on your interpretation of things.

(He discharged an AK-47 in downtown Gainesville like he was at an Iraqi wedding. We lean toward “sliding.”)

James’ punishment seems closer to appropriate: the obligatory one game suspension against the mighty Hilltoppers of Western Kentucky is expected, but James may lose his scholarship for the semester, a nasty piece of discipline as any former student who’s considered donating plasma for money can attest. (Advantages: post aphoresis, you can get positively housed off one beer.)

Meyer refused to comment, but we’re guessing if he were to respond, he’d suggest the punishments were “harsh.” They are also a start in the right direction. [/Economist snappy ending sentence voice.]

A few quick notes from the Fulmer Cup front:

Northwestern gets in on the Big 10 Fulmer Cup rush with a piddling DUI charge for center Trevor Rees, pulled over for weaving and swervin’ in Wilmette like a playa should.

Haters. Next time, Trevor, don’t let them take you alive. (HT: Prof-fan.)

The tease of all Fulmer Cup teases may actually be dropping drawers at last. The Penn State burglary incident involving up to seven players should come to fruition tomorrow, legally speaking at least. According to double top-secret sources, two or three will face serious charges, while up to seven could be charged in all.

Penn State Players involved in burglary: all your brains are belong to him.

This could garner Penn State serious, serious points in the Fulmer Cup. We’d estimate that with three facing serious charges (4 points each?) and four charged with misdemeanors (point each), this puts Penn State in the provisional 16 point range, easily securing second place with the dismissal of a complaint against an unnamed Florida football player earlier this week.

Finally, South Carolina’s Cory Boyd hasn’t been exonerated or charged in an incident at a party allegedly ending with Boyd deciding to see if his handgun worked properly by shooting it in the air during said party. It allegedly worked just fine, frightening the hell out of guests and earning him a visit from the police. Steve Spurrier, conveniently losing his coachspeak manual for the 33rd year in a row, had this to say:

Spurrier said he does not think the players did anything wrong. “But I’ve said that before and (was) proved wrong,” he added. “So I’m not saying it anymore.”

Which he just said. But doesn’t say anymore. I am a liar, I never tell a lie, I am a liar, I never tell a lie…(Android head explodes shortly thereafter…)

We went to a spring game and have the red, red neck and knees to prove it.

–Beautiful, sun blasted Gainesville this weekend, a place redolent with the smell of rotting vegetation, cheap beer, and burritos, and the smell of people actually tailgating for the spring’s Orange and Blue game: that was our weekend, combined with ten hours in the car and a hefty dose of Guitar Hero 2 on Saturday night. (”Beast and the Harlot” is hrrrrrrd, d00d.)

Ahhh…sun-blasted Gainesville. That’s not us in the foreground, incidentally.

As with any spring game, any bit of good news might potentially be bad news, since any amazing block, nifty catch, or clean sack might as a result of poor play on the other side, a side that happens to be the other half of your favorite team. This explains the odd reactions to any good play made at the Orange and Blue game, where an initial WOOOOO usually had a trailing grumble grumble grumble or OHHHHHHhhh accompanying it.

So 40,000 plus at Florida Field turned out to test out their inner Janus on Saturday, (more…)

Again: Mike Leach lives every week like it’s Shark Week. Those moments in the day when you hem and haw, wondering if what you’re about to do will make someone awkward, violate an invisible social boundary, or possibly get fired…those simply don’t exist for the man.

The latest example of why you live life like a mincing ninny comes courtesy of the Fanhouse:

I’m a Bill O’Reilly fan. I listen to a lot of talk radio. G. Gordon Liddy. Rush Limbaugh. Sean Hannity. I like G. Gordon Liddy. I got Leach that Stacked and Packed Calendar. G. Gordon Liddy puts out this calendar. It’s women in bathing suits holding guns. He talked about it; I figured he’d want it. Maybe that’s why he put me on scholarship.”

Ladies with guns=hott. Ladies with guns and burqa=hotttttter.

Ladies with guns=scholarship? There’s nothing there to really support it other than the supposition of an 18 year old who “listen(s) to a lot of talk radio.” This does not present the best case. However, we want it to be true, because it would be so much funnier if it were.

Therefore we proclaim that Mike Leach traded gun ‘n babe cheesecake calendarage for a scholarship. Just try and take down the pirate, NCAA!!! You don’t have the balls to take Captain Mike down, Myles Brand. Just try it and see–after all, he’s now got a recruit with “an undisclosed number of firearms” in his custody.

Wait a second…how did he get away from us? Sending Urban email immediately–we have to maintain our status as college football’s most ardent defender of the 2nd amendment. We’ll fight for that prize, and you’ll have to take it from our cold, dead hands, pirate. From our cold, dead hands.