A shaded shed on the grounds of Ben Hill Griffin Stadium. Shane Matthews, former Gator quarterback and radio commentator, wakes to find himself bound to a backboard. ALBERT THE ALLIGATOR stares at him.

Matthews: Wha…what happened?

Albert: …

Matthews: I was having a beer at the Copper Monkey one second, and then…nothing. I just want–

Albert: (Raises a finger to his lips. Um, the place where his jaws come together. Whatever that is. There.)

Matthews: What do you want from me?

Enter URBAN MEYER.

Meyer: Shane, I only want you to do what is required of you. (more…)

See? It can be done.

Something’s been bugging us about any and all commentary surrounding the I-formation in Florida’s playbook, and we have to take a moment to swat it out of the sky like King Kong batting away a hapless biplane.

The I-formation isn’t anything new in the Meyer playbook: it’s been there all along, and was first cracked out at Florida after the 2005 LSU debacle where Chris Leak struggled in the spread, Florida lost despite LSU handing the Gators multiple turnovers, and Urban Meyer cried after the game. (DURRR FAGG KRY!!! There. We said it for you.) Its reintroduction this spring is nothing new for the offense.

It’s not new for Tebow, either: Tebow’s tried taking the ball from under center in previous springs, and encountered the same oddity each time. That oddity? A left-handed qb taking snaps from under center needs someone who can snap the ball left-handed. The angle’s a bit different for both center and qb, and causes a left-handed qb to reset the ball in his hands if the snap’s coming from someone who snaps right-handed.

This is one of those tweaky little football things one would assume is very simple (i.e. Mike Leach’s “I can teach a pro qb to take a three step drop in an hour” thing,) but is actually more difficult than any coach would like it to be. Tebow’s new center this year will be Maurkice Pouncey, who as a new center has quite enough piled onto his learning curve already. Relearning how to snap in the tiny window of practice time available already is likely too much for Meyer to really want to mess with beyond experimentation.

Started every game there last season. Damn you, multiple Pounceys, hole-ridden brain.

(We know as much–don’t seem shocked–via actual football-like sources. Don’t look so shocked. They don’t mind talking to us as long as we’re never seen in public with them, and we pretend we don’t know them in social situations.)

There’s also the matter of fullbacks, h-backs, tight ends, or other people providing the primary block out of the backfield for a tailback. Right now, Florida has no one doing an adequate job out of the backfield for this, meaning the position of the Latsko-back (named for universal football solvent and all-around badass Billy Latsko, who played the position in 2005-6) is empty. Personnel-wise, the I-formation on the depth chart looks less like it’s name, and more like the colon formation: two dots with an empty space in between. (And the results would be appropriately shitty on the field! Hat-CHAAA!!!)

Moreover, steaming along at 40 plus points a game, Florida doesn’t need it. It would allay sub-mongoloid NFL scouts about Tebow’s abilities, but frankly that’s not something a coach should be concerned about if they want to keep their sanity or respect for the rest of humanity. Matthew Stafford is as perfect an NFL prospect as Disco God has every put on this planet: huge, cannon-armed, versed in a drop-back passing offense, and cognitively capable of doing whatever is asked of him re: a playbook. And even he’s getting scrutiny beyond the pale of what might reasonably called sanity.

They’re going to hate him anyway, so you might as well run your offense and let talent and ability win out in the end. The rest will be twirling and prancing to please a critic whose favor you cannot by design win.

Our fearless leader files this dispatch from the road:

A quick scene from the airport today. A family of downhomey UGA fans sent off a pair of clearly foreign, Nordic-looking teen boys back to the cold, godless land from whence they came. They stood ahead of me in line at security, clearly emotional. Though they did not share a language, the angst and tears in their eyes made their feelings for each other clear enough.

And as a parting sign of their love, they had decked out both head to toe in the ultimate Georgian’s sign of affection: spanking new Bulldog gear.

It was moving and hokey simultaneously. In fact, I’m still thinking about them as I board, especially because just after I wiped a tear away, I told TSA they were speaking in Arabic and looking suspicious, and they were hauled away for cavity searches.

Hugs and Go Gators,

Orson

We’re attempting to do about seventy different things at once this morning–packing, filing a column, various bureaucratic tasks of a a nature so mundane they don’t bear specifying, dissolving bones in lye huh?–that we almost didn’t notice this:

(Note: Read in Foghorn Leghorn voice for maximum effect.)

If Iowa State fans are buzzing about ex-Tennessee coach Phil Fulmer, Bobby Bowden asked, then why not another former coach who built up a winner in the Southeastern Conference? Why not his son, Terry?

“The thing about it,” the Florida State football coach told The Des Moines Register on Thursday afternoon, “is that even though he hasn’t been coaching in the last eight or nine years, he’s still been (covering) ballgames every Saturday and he sees what people are doing and knows what the trends are and he’s kept up with it. Being out of (the profession) for so long, everybody’s scared of him, (but) it’s not because he’s lost any of his knowledge of the game.”

Look. He wore a tie and everything.

It is STUNNING that Bobby Bowden, when discussing a coaching vacancy, would suggest one of his sons. He has three unemployed football coaching sons to suggest, so perhaps Terry seemed the most needy at the moment, but it is hard to evaluate Bowden’s midnight departure from Auburn in the same light now that we’ve watched Auburn’s failed 2003 putsch of Tuberville and his chaotic ouster this year. It simply doesn’t seem as insane as it once did to suggest that Bowden–who actually won games at Auburn and, like Tuberville, got the axe after one bad season–might deserve another shot.

It is Friday, because we are agreeing with Bobby Bowden, and surely hallucinating from lack of sleep. Where’s our afghan? And our comforting mid-morning pudding? (HT: OPS.)

#11 Ohio St. at #24 Northwestern

HOLLY, QUASI-RATIONAL: Relax your bedtime grip on your Glocks, America. Ohio State has two losses, and the universe can breathe easy, safe from the specter of a third-straight Buckeyes champblahblahblahBig10bashing. Statistically, these teams are surprisingly well-matched, but….look, we’d all love to pick Northwestern, adorably ranked after a victory over Minnesota, but if pluck guaranteed wins, we’d be celebrating the single-digit ranking of Texas Christian (HOW DARE YOU PUSH US TO ACCEPT UTAH AS A LEGIT TEAM, HORNED FROGS).

ORSON, IRRATIONAL. The force is strong in the young one…

…but this is episode five, and he loses his hand to the Dark Lord.

Baylor at #4 Texas

ORSON, QUASI-RATIONAL. If Baylor had the chops on defense to hold Colt McCoy in check, we’d happily tiptoe over to the pond of tribute bets and salute Art Briles and Robert Griffin for revivifying Baylor football. (more…)

It’s a Thursday night game.  You know in your pitted hearts you have nothing better to do.  Take our handy quiz to determine your loyalties for the evening.

Your preferred tailgating beverage is:
A) Beer
B) Milk

Your go-to antiseptic in event of injury is:
A) Beer
B) Milk

(more…)

BOB DAVIE:  Hello, and welcome to the Carrier Dome, in frrrosty Syracuse, New York!  It’s a lovely September day outside, but now is the winter of Orange discontent.  And joining me to get to the bottom of all this, Lisa Salters.  Lisa, tell us about the setup today.

LISA SALTERS:  Well, Bob, we’ve set up a series of motion-activated cameras and microphones throughout the stadium, in the hopes of capturing footage of the rare Syracuse football fans in their natural environment.  It’s a technique pioneered by–Bob!  [hissing]  BOB!!

BOB DAVIE [quietly, urgently]: Don’t move.  Their visual acuity is based on motion.
[cautiously reaches into pocket, removes bag of corn nuts, shakes it]
Hey.  Hey.  We’re not gonna hurt you.  C’mere, little guy.  C’mon.

SYRACUSE FAN [slumping into frame]: …Can I help you?

(more…)

Beanie Wells is now officially “doubtful” for the Ohio State game. You didn’t think the sound of a million Buckeye fans shitting themselves would be so near-melodic, did you, like the Tuba of Gabriel, did you? Well, it is:

Tressel said Thursday there was lingering soreness for Wells in his right foot after he worked out the night before. Wells did not practice with the team Thursday morning.

It’s healthy, and means you’re in touch with your feelings.

In addition to upping the point spread considerably, the lack of Wells OBVIOUS FOOTBALL POINT COMING means SERIOUSLY OBVIOUS the Buckeye run game will be considerably diminished, meaning USC will DURRRR-HURRR tee off on Todd Boeckman at will. It also means that, in more colorful terms, Rey Maualuga will be sitting just over a crouched offensive guard at the snap quietly murmuring “I come in peace, I didn’t bring artillery. But I am pleading with you with tears in my eyes: If you fuck with me, I’ll kill you all.”

In summary: Beanie Wells’ foot doesn’t work, Rey Maualuga still frightens us, and Marines r kewl. That is all.

Corso hisses. Desmond Howard counts a very special number for Jeremy Maclin. Chris Fowler pronounces Clemson and Alabama fans as “fucked up.” Gameday gets the thorough remixing and Unnecessary Censorshop treatment courtesy of Holly’s deft digital hands and the magic of TiVo.

Enjoy.

Gameday Remixed is sponsored by Gillette, which reminds you that only Gillette can help you “Look, Feel, and Fuck Your Best.”

Cornelius Ingram, TE, has a torn ACL according to Joe Schad on ESPN. It’s not the worst news for Florida, who has a potent replacement in Aaron Hernandez coming up, but it sucks royally for Ingram on a personal and karmic level. Ingram came back for his senior season, thrived at TE after moving over from qb, and has been the ho-hum oh just perfect citizen as far as being a credit to his school, team, and the utterly awesome name “Cornelius.”

You know what really broke his ACL, though, according to Urban Meyer? That damned celebration, of course. Urban Meyer hasn’t forgotten about that.