‘Cause it’s Friday, you ain’t got no football, and you ain’t got s#!t to do. Break yo’ self, fool — the preseason USA Today Coaches’ Poll has been released in all its premature, ghostvoted glory. Rest assured Holly and I will get around to a withering dissection of everything that’s wrong with the coaches’ rankings later on today, not the least of which is the fact that some of the teams they ranked may not have even started fall practice yet, but for right now let us rejoice in a sign that the college football season truly is a-comin’. Kind of like when they start putting up the Christmas-sale banners in the first week of October.

This has been “Scary Thoughts” with Eric Berry. The battle has begun at Tennessee for the title of Other Safety Besides Eric Berry, and no less than Berry himself says both Janzen Jackson and Darren Myles Jr. have “a lot more natural ability” than he did when he stepped onto the Tennessee campus. Here’s a thought for Lane Kiffin: Why not just let the other team’s offense have the ball every series and play defense the whole game? Can anyone honestly say Berry isn’t the biggest scoring threat the Vols have on their entire roster?

It must be the winning record. It’s very slimming on you. Don’t look now, but Stoops might actually have whipped Arizona into a solid team — so solid, in fact, that Stoops himself has unloaded 20 pounds his Wildcats upset BYU in last year’s Las Vegas Bowl. In other nutritionally healthy news, there’s nothing spectacularly shocking about this Alabama notebook, we’re just amused by anything applauding a 354-pound man for his weight-loss diligence.

Do not taunt Happy Fun Bronco. Boise State says they’re not dwelling on their home opener against Oregon this season, but who’d blame them if they did? You can’t really accuse someone of “looking ahead” when the game they’re looking ahead to is their first game of the season, particularly when their opponent’s QB promised to “take it to them” a couple weeks ago. If you’re scoring at home, BSU punked Oregon 37-32 in Eugene last September, and host the Ducks on the Smurf Turf on Sept. 3.

Rolling with the Neu. Rick Neuheisel’s son Jerry, a presumptive member of the class of 2011, is starting to get some recruiting buzz, and though he looks sort of like how we imagine a member of the Swedish women’s track and field team might look, we know better than to bet against anyone with Neuheisel DNA. (Presumably, as a student at Los Angeles’s Loyola High School, Jerry will be at least an ancillary beneficiary of the breakup of the infamous Los Angeles Football Monopoly, though we can’t say for sure until we’ve seen the documents from the Securities and Exchange Commission.)

It’s going to be an interesting family Thanksgiving in the Bowden household. For the first time in ages, the only member of the Bowden family fielding any questions about national-title expectations is — Terry, despite bringing back only one offensive starter on his (Division II) North Alabama team. Imagine Stephen being the lone member of the Baldwin family to get any Emmy buzz in a given year and you’ve pretty much approximated the head-scratching factor here.

Profiles in headline understatement. The Virginia Cavaliers are looking for big-play wideouts, says the Charlottesville Daily Progress. Or, you know, big-play anybody, that’d be good too. (Cue my dad, UVA undergrad ‘71, Med ‘77: “We’re still the closest thing to a public Ivy in the country, Thomas Jefferson founded us, GRRRR ARRRGGGHH.”)

File under “Longtime rumors confirmed.” It’s official: Joe Kines “speaks another language.” The city of Tuscaloosa just collapsed under the weight of its collective lack of shock.

What? Oh, yeah, star QB, football, blah blah whatever. Ex-Longhorn hero and current Tennessee Titans QB Vince Young makes a very edifying appearance in the “What I’ve Learned” feature of this month’s Esquire, and while some of you are sure to beef with his promise to “be the next black quarterback to win a Super Bowl,” I’m not commenting on that one way or the other, mainly because I’m too distracted by the feature on Christina Hendricks of “Mad Men” immediately preceding the Young article.

Yes, I know that’s about as lazy as segues get, but y’all have been very good this week, and the very least I can throw your way as a show of gratitude is a little bunda. Don’t say I never gave you nothin’.

From,
The Internet (all of it)

This really is nothing when it comes to Jim Leavitt being animated in front of a camera, since you don’t build something from nothing without the ability to at least scare everyone in a 1000 foot radius with a glance. Leavitt’s man-fear-smell-emitting glands may have had as much of an effect on attendance as USF’s disappointing 7-4 season: attendance was down this year for the Bulls overall. Expect to see Leavitt standing on the corner of Dale Mabry with a sign advertising tickets…while selling a few Sunday St. Pete Times, too. Leavitt’s a hustler like that.

(HT: The Wiz.)

Steve Spurrier:…and…..ROLL!

Steven “The Snake” Garcia: You like that baby? Oh, yeah, let’s do this…

They begin their scene. Garcia gets into rhythm.

Garcia: YEAH! That’s right baby. Deep and down the middle. Cock! A-doodle! DOOOOOOOO—

Steven: —CUT! Okay, go in Chris.

Chris: But I’m not, you know…ready.

Spurrier: We gotta keep her guessin’! Get in there!

Steven: But I was just startin’ to get her cookin’, brah!

Spurrier: STEVEN! BENCH! NOW! Aaaaaaaaand…ROLL!

Chris: Maybe, you know, we could just cuddle, and then work up to things here…

Spurrier: CUT! TIME OUT!!! Chris, you gotta get in the game here. We’re switching you in to get them confused! She just looks bored. I want her to be guessing! You sit down now.

Chris: (shrugs shoulders, sits)

Spurrier: Garcia, you’re in!

Garcia: Fuck yeah, coach! Top Cock, ready to strut.

The scene resumes in thunderous fashion.

Garcia: Come on! Yeah! Coach, you want me to finish this cinnamon bun off with some frosting?

Spurrier: –AND CUT!!! Naw, that’s just what they’re expecting! I use two guys a scene. At least two.

Beecher: Me? What about me, coach? When do I get in?

Garcia: No way I’m doing a scene with him. There’s no telling where he’s gonna put it, man.

Kirk Herbstreit, the WWL’s Golden Frosted Boy, is not a bad guy. We believe that. And we’re all about the dude-on-dude love, believe us. But there are LINES, man. Somewhere, there’s got to be a line, and we draw it here.

It brings us absolutely no pleasure, in fact, to share the following video, because, again, gross:

THE HUMANITARIAN HAS TRANSCENDED SEX, HERBSTREIT. HE IMBIBES THE ESSENCE OF THE SUN AND MOON AND FLOATS A FULL FOUR ATMOSPHERIC LAYERS ABOVE YOUR DESIRES OF THE FLESH. For shame, sir. For shame.

(LSUFreek, world without end, amen.)

Hey, man. Have a seat. How’s class? Good? Great. Good to hear. That thing in the club the other night? Don’t do that again. I know she slapped you first, but next time? Back of the legs. No bruises, just like the bottom of the heels. Either that or hit them with a phone book. Lou Holtz taught me a lot of things, and the most important one is that if you have to beat someone inconspicuously, let your fingers do the walking with the sledgehammer you keep on your bookshelf.

Anyway, I want to talk to you about your 40 time. You’ve done a lot of work. Sprints. Box jumps. Strengthening your hamstrings. Mickey says your work ethic is beyond any of your peers. But it’s not the top one percent of one percent. It’s just not.

We’ve hit a wall. I have a solution. Don’t freak out when I say this. I’m just going to show you a picture, and give it a thought, okay? Promise? Seriously, I will beat you down with a phonebook if you attack me when I show you this picture. Because I love you. Ready?

I’ve already talked with the medical staff about it, and it’s beyond doable. A simple operation compared to some of the stuff they do. We can set it up however you like. You’ll get ass for the rest of your life with the story we’ll cook up: saving a puppy from getting hit by a semi, fighting off a gang of bikers trying to rape a pair of nuns, something like that.

And he flies in these things. Have you seen him? 4.6, and he’s white. Imagine what you’ll do in these. I want to make the edges serrated on your playing legs. Just for the extra edge. Get it? Edge?

I can see you’re thinking about it. I like that. Just consider this: what have your legs done for you lately? We can make the legs look any way you like, too. Orange and Blue. Little LEDs in them. You’ll never have to worry about an ankle or heel injury ever again. Imagine that.

The recruiting angle will be incredible, too. We get to be heartwarming and on the forefront of football technology.

Just think it over. I know you’ll do it. For the team. You just need time to think this over. I’ll let you have it. Let me just finish with this: you’ll have robot legs. Don’t you want super robot legs? Isn’t that what champions want? Super robot champion legs? We’re offering that to you and a free college education.

Think about it. I’m done here. The rest is up to you…super robot champion.

Remember the good times? There’s nothing keeping you away except you and your dignity.

FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS
NEVADA at NEW MEXICO STATE (8:00 ET • ESPN2)
It’s a WAC game of no consequence whatsoever, even by WAC standards – both teams are eliminated from the conference title picture – so why not have one of those 59-57 barrages? It should be a law, really: the number of punts in any televised WAC game shall be no greater than the combined number of I-A wins between both teams. In this case, that’s five. Watch For: Admit it: you miss Hal Mumme, don’t you? It’s okay: it’s Friday night, it’s in New Mexico, it’s ESPN2…he won’t tell anyone.

SATURDAY – EARLY AFTERNOON: THERE IS A BODY. DUMP IT IN THE RIVER BEFORE…

Main Course: PURDUE at PENN STATE (Noon ET • ESPN)
It’s a virtual lock the winner here will be in one of the Florida bowls on New Year’s Day, which says nothing, really, except that there will be some really sketchy quarterbacking on display in January. Do not be fooled by Purdue’s “high-powered” offense, which has tended to find the deepest hole it can find against competent defense for the last three years or so – the Boilers were averaging 30 points before they were shut out by the Lions in West Lafayette last year. Watch For: Flashing back to his duty in the final days of World War II (this is true), JoPa mistakes the “bombs” Curtis Painter is spraying around the Penn State secondary for that agonizing night in the leaning shells of old farmhouses outside Bondeno in ‘45. Massacre ensues.

On the Other Channel…
IOWA at NORTHWESTERN (Noon ET • ESPN2)
One of these teams currently has a winning record. Can you guess which one? I didn’t think so. Watch For: Iowa quarterback Jake Christensen, coming one of the truly, stunningly horrible performances in the history of winning football after last week’s double overtime win over Michigan State. Christensen completed three passes in regulation for 24 yards, but didn’t throw an interception, which is like the quarterbacking version of playing dead. It’s all about adapting and surviving, man, adapting and surviving.

It’s just a highly evolved defense mechanism – Christensen doesn’t really throw.

NEBRASKA at KANSAS (12:30 ET • FSN)
The Callahan Death Watch limps into its final excruciating month in need of a good mercy killing: at 4-5 with three games to play, Nebraska is technically alive for a bowl game, even with a defense that just gave up 319 yards rushing at the Beaver Crossing First Presbyterian bake sale and a first time starter at quarterback. At some point, backups can only provide a spark – you know, the team can hardly play worse under Joe Ganz – but he’ll be a minor here if the ex-Blackshirts are competent enough to cover the 20-point spread. Watch For: Last week, it was the velour track suit. This week, Mangino goes for the lucky lederhosen.

Provincialism: N.C. State at Miami (Noon ET, ESPNU) . . . Wake Forest at Virginia (Noon ET, Lincoln Financial) . . . Ball State at Indiana (Noon ET, Big Ten Network) . . . Wisconsin at Ohio State (Noon ET, Big Ten Network) . . . Kansas State at Iowa State (12:30, Versus).

(A brief word to the Big Ten Network: I understand your contractual obligations to get teams onto BTN a certain number of times, but fuck you for picking up Wisconsin-Ohio State and sticking the rest of the country with Iowa-Northwestern. This is quite the boon a wounded conference was looking for, I’m sure, hiding a mythical championship contender in one of its three marquee games of the season on a regional network while trotting out the play-in game for the Music City Bowl for everyone not living next to a Great Lake. Or is it better voters not actually see Ohio State in its only pre-Michigan game worth watching? Go to hell. And if you don’t live in the Big Ten zone and you’re getting Wiscy-OSU by some means other than basic cable, you go to hell, too. We don’t want to hear about your fucking packages.

Oh, and it’s Northwestern: the Wildcats are 5-4. Iowa’s double overtime win over Michigan State last week left the Hawkeyes sitting at 4-5).

LATE AFTERNOON: VIVA HATE!

Main Course: LSU at ALABAMA (5:00 ET • CBS)
Bizarre start time for the Eye, about an hour and a half later than usual, all the better for the fan base that mobbed its new coach’s private plane and showed up 90,000 strong for the Spring game to get in that extra flask before filing in to its seats violently storming the gates to sate the entitled bloodlust that’s possessed the blackest corners of its soul since last December. This game could mean more, if both teams were undefeated or something – in SEC play, anyway, both are only an overtime loss away from 5-0, and a wild last minute drive from being 3-2 – but between coonasses, fucking rivals and the division title, there is epic theater in the works. Watch For: Well, damn, even Nick Saban has time for this shit. There are wilder environments than Bryant-Denny, but with an infusion of revenge and bourbon-filled Louisianans, under the circumstances, it should be transformed into the unpadded batshit madhouse of the season.

On the Other Channel…
Your Mouse-Eared ESPN on ABC Overlords Present…Regionalism!
CINCINNATI at SOUTH FLORIDA or MICHIGAN at MICHIGAN STATE or TEXAS at OKLAHOMA STATE or UCLA at ARIZONA (3:30 ET • ABC/ESPN)

One way or another, most of the country will be seeing Michigan-Michigan State, which is good and right: a legitimate, hate-filled rivalry between decent teams, neither of which is UCLA nor Arizona. The programmers guessing at the beginning of the year that Bruins-Wildcats would be a better draw for this slot than Devils-Ducks should be summarily sacked – Arizona? – not that anyone off the West Coast would be able to see the latter under these conditions, anyway. It probably worked out for the better, actually. Great job, guys!
Watch For: One of your last chances to see Chad Henne and Mike Hart as Wolverines. Truly, through the decades, they have been the voice of an entire generation.

NAVY at NOTRE DAME (2:30 ET • NBC)
Whatever the losing streak is now, 40 games, 45 games, this is it for Notre Dame. The last possible shred of respect it can salvage is to win the frosted dessert course of its schedule (in November, the Irish get Navy, Air Force, Duke and Stanford) beginning with the Middies, if for no other reason than to say “At least we didn’t lose to Navy” and avoid another billboard advertising this team’s historic futility. Watch For: Unparalelled potential for schadenfreude, and because you love the triple option, don’t you, seaman?!

Provincialism: Colorado State at BYU (Noon MT, mtn.) . . . East Carolina at Memphis (2:00 ET, WITN, WLMT) . . . San Jose State at Boise State (1:00 MT, KTVB 7) . . . Buffalo at Miami, Ohio (3:00 ET, Ohio News Now) . . . Army at Air Force (1:30 MT, CSTV) . . . Marshall at Central Florida (3:30 ET, CSS Southeast) . . . Maryland at North Carolina (3:45 ET, ESPNU).

THE WILD CARD
ARIZONA STATE at OREGON (6:45 ET • ESPN)
Even the most cynical hats must be doffed to the Leader for saving the game of the day from regional oblivion, even if kickoff here is inconvenient for anyone more interested in LSU-Bama. The second half of this one ought to get much better ratings than the first. Watch For: If it’s not enough of a draw to watch two high-scoring, top five teams hook up with the highest conference and national implications and coaches who are liable to stagger in as sloshed on the Nike dime as the Sig Eps in the stands, at least give a fair shake to Dennis Dixon, the most overlooked candidate for certain unnamed statuettes. Oregon has to remain a national contender for his campaign to gain any traction, and vice versa.

HERE COMES THE NIGHT

Main Course: Your Mouse-Eared ESPN on ABC Overlords Present…More Regionalism!
FLORIDA STATE at BOSTON COLLEGE or TEXAS A&M at OKLAHOMA or OREGON STATE at SOUTHERN CAL (8:00 ET • ABC)

Almost two-thirds of households nationally will see Matt “Roller Coaster” Ryan try to keep his lunch down against Florida State, while viewers attempt to keep their own lunch down watching the ‘Noles’ pathetic attempts to execute anything on offense. Even FSU’s lone interesting player, Xavier Lee, has succumbed to a sprained cerebrum, leaving vanilla Drew Weatherford to fail in far less spectacular fashion. Just for the record: does anybody else get the sneaking sense that, if their teams and coaches were reversed, Drew Weatherford and Matt Ryan are pretty much the same quarterback? Watch For: Independently, DeMarco Murray and Dennis Franchione’s tortured attempts at stoicism in defeat are worth the price of admission on their own. So a certain segment of the country is getting a sweet two-for-one. It’s like Christmas.

On the Other Channel…
MISSOURI at COLORADO (6:40 ET • FSN)
There’s no figuring Colorado out: the Buffs lose at home in the middle of the night to Florida State, then take out Oklahoma on the same field, then get routed in back-to-back games by Kansas and Kansas State, and, reeling in the wake of Sunflower State smackdowns, salvaged the season by whipping Texas Tech last week in Lubbock. Division I football, brother: completely schizophrenic. Watch For: Chase Daniel, who, no, you have not observed closely enough. Everyone has Mizzou figured, but nobody’s doing much about it.

Chase Daniel doesn’t adjust to the altitude. The altitude adjusts to Chase Daniel.

SOUTH CAROLINA at ARKANSAS (8:00 • ESPN2)
It feels like both teams are reeling, but, where South Carolina’s lost two in a row, Arkansas has actually won four of its last five. The problem: those four were North Texas, UT-Chattanooga, Ole Miss and Florida International. Against actual SEC opponents, the Hogs have fallen flatter’n Houston Nutt’s denials re: Donna Bragg. Watch For: Any chance to watch Darren McFadden knife through hordes of tacklers is a precious one, and by all reasonable guesses, this will be one of the last you’ll get on a Saturday.

WASHINGTON STATE at CALIFORNIA (10:00 ET • FSN)
Random Pac Ten game! Random Pac Ten game! Less than a month ago, Cal was ranked third in the country and thinking national championship. Now the Bears are trying to hold on against streaking Wazzu (one in a row, baby!) to avoid a tie for ninth place in the conference. Watch For: The sheer, drunken, bleary-eyed pleasure that comes from falling asleep for whole quarters, then waking up just in time to catch a bizarro finish and trying in vain to remember just which team you bet on, again, before passing out for good. It’s the little things that make it all worthwhile.

Provincialism: New Mexico at TCU (4:30 CT, mtn.) . . . Washington at Stanford (3:30 PT, FSN Bay Area) . . . Southern Miss at UAB (6:00 CT, CSS Southeast) . . . Eastern Michigan at Toledo (7:00 ET, Buckeye Cable Network) . . . Rutgers at Connecticut (7:15, ESPNU) . . . Tulsa at Tulane (6:30 CT, CSTV) . . . Illinois at Minnesota (7:00 CT, Big Ten Network) . . . Wyoming at San Diego State (6:00 PT, mtn.).

Don’t forget to set your clock backs at the end of Cal-WSU, and enjoy that little time warp while you can.

In the pantheon of glorious rants, Mike Gundy’s must be given short shrift due to its lack of the following things:

1. Thrown objects
2. Profanities
3. Actual, filmed assaults
4. An uncontrolled, free-form rantflow to it.
5. Instantly quotable lines.

Gundy was prepackaged, plastic, and can’t possibly measure up to the foothills of the coach implosion Himalaya due to the lack of the five elements of a real, ass-ripping lunatic rant. Only the line “I’M A GROWN MAN! I’M FORTY!” comes close, and even then it’s borrowing laugh-memory from Molly Shannon’s Salley O’Malley and her enchanting Desert Rose. (He’s Mike Gundy! He can kick! Stretch! And….KICK! FOUR-OH!)

He even brought props, a bush league crutches of the junior-circuit ranter. Props mean you planned it; ideally, a rant comes not from the heart, or the head, but instead from the lizard brain, unfiltered, uncontrollable, and irresistable. Mike Gundy, were he a cinematic murderer, would be William H. Macy in Fargo; a real ranter like Lou Piniella or Dan Hawkins is Mr. Brooks or Dexter, unwillingly turning the wheel over to the Dark Passenger without knowing it. If props are involved, they’re hijacked on the scene, usually thrown without caring where they go or who they hit. (Hal McCray, phone; Lou Piniella, bases, Rob Dibble, an infant in a barfight with Billy Martin in 1977.)

Sadly, the best verbal coaching fit ever eluded recording devices. Marv Levy swore in an interview on the NFL Network that George Allen once went on a 45 minute tirade about the evils of snow tires. But failing that, for proper, grumpy bastard rant, call a pro like Paul Johnson, who’ll run the triple option of rant-ropology by accusing you of working at McDonald’s, getting angry, and wagering a public ass-kissing on the challenge. (HT: Peter.)

Reporter: Can I ask you something without making you mad?

Johnson: If you could ever find one time that I said we won the game because of brilliant strategy I will kiss your butt at city dock and give you two days to draw a crowd. Find it and bring it to me. Tell that guy that if he wants to talk to me I live at [address given but deleted for the transcript] I will be right there. Come ring my doorbell and I will be glad to talk to him.

This, by the way, is Paul Johnson. We bet his buttcheeks smell of tanned leather and taste of Steak-Umms.

A concussion occurs when the head hits or is hit by an object. A concussion can also occur when the brain is pushed against the skull with a strong force. In such cases, parts of the brain that control mental function may be damaged. The injured person may become disoriented (confused) and may briefly lose consciousness.

The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) estimates that about three hundred thousand people experience mild to moderate concussions each year as a result of sports injuries. Most of these people are men between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five.

See illustration 1.A below:

For more information, the Library of Congress recommends that you find your local Rey Maualuga. Anger him; this may be done by staring directly at him or at a picture of him, breathing oxygen in his vicinity, or even standing too closely to him in days that end in “y.” Then wait behind as many blockers as you like for desired results. He’ll find you.

(BTW: What in the hell is wrong with UCLA’s protections? Olson was sacked five times in the game against Utah. West coast offense short pass three step drop quick protect whaAAAA?)

Overzealous coaching is something we understand. Stealing someone’s pants outside the bounds of a friendly prank is not. Curt McKinney, coach of the Cincinnati rec league Midwest Marauders, is a pants-stealing, batshit-crazy bastard, according to one Aucherae Washington, a 10 year old booted from practice for walking down a hill during sprint drills at the Marauders’ practice. The saga of a boy who lost his pants follows in brief (boxers, actually, but on with the story:)

The boy said his coach berated him in front of the other players.

“He wanted a pair of pants,” said neighbor Yvonne Workman. “He was upset, and he seemed like he was nervous and he didn’t know what to do.”

The coach has not been suspended because he has not been charged with a crime in the case, according to league officials. He should be, of course: the kid is ten years old, playing football for fun, and obviously mismatched with a zealot of a coach who stripped him of his dignity in front of his teammates before making him walk home pantsless at the age of ten. Remember that blogs are the little invisible words in between the lines of regular newsprint, and in this case, those words read: Oh my god, what a complete and utter waste of carbon this man is.

And if you don’t think everyone in life wants a little dignity and a pair of pants at the bare minimum…then you, sir, are not part of this man’s Republic of Awesome. Seek citizenship elsewhere.

HT: Odell51

FYI: Raimond Pendleton was not eaten afterwards. An assistant usually sprinkles them with salt and other spices during the diatribe in those instances. (HT: Pete Jayhawk.)

Ivan Maisel gets the Barbara Walters shot at Nick Saban in a piece producing two shining details worth framing on the wall of “things we will wear into the ground through comic repetition this year. ”

One: Saban hates your gangsta huggies.

On the practice field in the early days of spring practice, the Saban you don’t know decided he had had enough of his players wearing their pants too far below their waist…

“He pulled his pants down,” Caldwell said, “and said, ‘This is how some of you guys look. You’re showing your ass. And I’m going to be the only a–hole showing around here.’”

Proof positive there’s a Patton DVD somewhere floating around the Saban household, most likely sandwiched between musty copies of the original Walking Tall and Snap, Pop, OH MY GOD WHY?: Quarterbacks in Pain, Vol 12.

The other grand tidbit here: Saban’s rage fuel, allowing him to work those famous 20 hour days and still reduce underlings to tears with ease, is readily available at your local gas station or downmarket grocery store:

The Saban you don’t know may have a Manhattan income, but his tastes remain rooted in his native West Virginia. Given his druthers, Saban would be watching practice video, a cup of coffee on the table and Red Man Golden tucked in his cheek. Toss a package of Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies (the original size, not the big ones) next to the coffee and you may not hear from Saban for hours.

Them’s some druthers right there. Saban’s snack tastes run roughly parallel to Britney Spears, something we wouldn’t have predicted given a decade’s worth of guesses. In our darkest moments as a fan–say, when the 2009 team is pounding the hell out of Florida’s quarterback in the SEC championship game–we’ll just go to a happy place where Nick Saban is yelling at his players, waddling around a practice field with his pants around his ankles and an oatmeal cream pie in his hand. Laughing makes the sad fly away at times like that.

That visual could be handy for SEC fans over the next few years, actually.

Matthew Stafford: Shit! Look at that shit, Mo.

Mohammed Massaquoi: Fucking shit.

Matthew Stafford: Holy. Shit.

Mo Massaquoi: Holy. Shit.

Stafford: (downs sandwich) That’s our fucking coach levitating.

Mo: Upside-fuckin-down, man. He’s levitating upside-fuckin’-down.

Stafford: Like he’s Neo, dude. Fuckin’ A.

Mo: He’s the chosen one. He can read the Matrix. Fuck.

Stafford: He just fucking walked right off the board and–BOOM!–he’s just fucking floating there.

Mo: Holy smoking donkey dick, he’s still up there.

Stafford: Just fucking sitting there. Wherever I go, it’s like his eyes are followin’ me.

Mo: He’s gonna do that ’till I stop dropping balls, right?

Stafford: I need a beer. Like, right damn now.

Mo: He heard that. He knew you were gonna say that before you even said it.

Stafford: Holy shit, he did, didn’t he? Holy fucking shit.

Mo: How long’s he gonna be up there?

Stafford: ‘Til we get an offensive line, he says.

Mo: He’s gonna be up there a while, then, motherfucker.

Stafford: Fuckin’ A, man.

Mo: (shakes head) Fuckin’ A.

(Photo of Mark Richt doing a backflip off the high dive at UGA via Sports By Brooks. And that really is Mark Richt, who can also levitate upside down, we’re sure.)

Eric Scott: arrested for burglary?

You knew Pete Carroll’s house had a burglar alarm. You knew you’d have to replace the playbook with an object of equal weight before the booby traps kicked in and crushed you all. You were afraid, but you went anyway, Eric. Heroes call that courage, sir.

All of this happens just in time for Pac-10 Media Day tomorrow! Karl Dorrell should just claim a case of the burning twistgut shits and stay home.

More pending…