The local rabble who’ve spent much of the past couple weeks going nuclear on Paul Finebaum for daring to suggest any comparison between Urban Meyer and Bear Bryant will be gratified to hear: The Bear haunted Meyer on his first visit to Bryant-Denny! At least that’s how Urbs seems to describe it:

Urban Meyer remembers two things in particular from his first road trip to Alabama in his first season at Florida.

But that pregame blast from the past didn’t speak as loudly as the postgame critics. They saw Alabama 31, Florida 3 as a sign that Meyer wasn’t going to change the future of the SEC.

Not a painting by Larry Pitts but an actual, unretouched photo, evidently.

HA HA SUCK IT MEYER RAMMER JAMMER HEY GATORS WE JUST BEAT THE HELL OUTTA YOUUUUU! Yeah, the rest of the story is a lot of stuff about the spread offense and about how it’s changing the SEC and blah blah blah, but no matter how dominating the spread becomes, it’ll never match the booming, beyond-the-grave voice of Paul W. Bryant in terms of sheer pants-crapping, bitchmaking terror.

Orrrr . . . maybe it will. Later on in the article:

“I think Florida has a great offense. I think it’s very difficult to defend. So I’m not being critical. But it is different.”

Alabama surrendered a season-high 31 points to both the Gators and the Utes and lost both games.

Christ, Bryant, where were you for those two games, guy? Perhaps the Bear really is like God: He answers all prayers, but sometimes the answer is no.

In honor of the release of Dark Knight…we finally cast Urban Meyer in our epic 46 part miniseries about Florida football. Separated at birth:

Urban Meyer…

…and…
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Let’s talk.

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?

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Gator Nation, this is coach Urban Meyer here. First, I’d like to personally thank you for all your support this year. The heart and passion of our fans really helped us through the rigors of our schedule. You’re as much to credit as anyone associated with this program for our success. A salute to you, fans.

Second, I’d like to go ahead and announce that I’m totally slacking off for the year 2007. Yup. With a roster full of blue-chip babies, a national championship under the old belt, and a sweet black leather Members’ Only jacket to boot, Urb’s officially announcing the old phone-in for the year. Waitress, this Ohio boy needs some more boat drinks, please.

Urban: needs more boat drinks.

I’ve said differently, sure.

“I wish I could say we’re going to make another run,” Meyer said. “I have no idea. That’s so farfetched, but rebuilding the defense is obviously the key to us having success. Our coaches on defense are going to have to earn their stripes this year.”

Lick it up, poindexters. You really just a bunch of reverse Ron Burgundys, aren’t you? You’ll write anything I say. Like I could walk out there, make a few remarks that I carefully constructed in between texting recruits, and I could read this in the Tampa Trib the next day:

Meyer said: “The reporter writing this is completely gay. Kissing other men ’til he gets beard burn gay. Dancing nancy, Haddaway What-Is-Love, half-tee-wearing, HGH-takin’ circuit boy twirling glo-stick gay. In case you don’t understand: the person writing this sleeps with dudes.

Sometimes, I really believe you’d print that. Especially you, Bianchi.

Like we’re going to do anything anyone remembers this year anyway. (more…)

File under taking cheese, making sandwich: Urban Meyer caps an eyelid-flipping recruiting season with the announcement of Belle Glade wideout Deonte Thompson’s LOI. Deonte commits in keeping with two Florida traditions:

1. Wideouts with curiously spelled first names. See Jacquez Green, Reidel Anthony, and especially wacky “Travis” McGriff.

2. He’s from Belle Glade, one of the most desperate corners of the Sunshine State and a former Gator stronghold during the Spurrier days. The old wisdom was that in Belle Glade, you had four vocations to choose from: cutting cane, going to jail, catching AIDS, or playing football. (For a while, Belle Glade had the highest HIV prevalence of any town in the U.S.)

We’re glad the 4.28-running Deonte opted for football. So’s Urban, who is frankly beginning to frighten us a little with all the competence and drive busting out all over the place. His ambition seems to be without horizon, and appeasement doesn’t seem to be working with him. Get Ban Ki-Moon on the phone! NOW!

Urban: so good only Microsoft Paint could do him justice. (HT: Reader David.)

Bruce Feldman talks national recruiting on signing day with us, broadcasting from the Orgeron's forbidding Bone Palace.

MP3 File

Florida continues to pour schadenfreude fuel on Notre Dame this morning by poaching New Jersey zillion star recruit Justin Trattou from Weis’ back pocket–a guy that Weis should have had dead to rights, what with Charlie always flaunting his Jersey credentials by driving around the Camaro, eating the canoli, and making the cameo appearances in Kevin Smith movies. (In reality, Charlie only likely does one of these. However, we guess he does it very, very well.)

Trattou had surprisingly lucid reasons for the switch:

“In a 3-4, they’d want me to play rush end or outside linebacker, and while that’s tempting, that’s not really where I see myself,” Trattou said. “I’ve always been a down lineman and that’s what I prefer. At the end of the day, that makes a big difference.”

A 4-3 defense–now that’s something you won’t see in South Bend.

The Trattou-theft brings Don Meyer’s tally of poached verbals to what we believe is a total of seven thus far. If recruits were flowers–and in some grand metaphorical sense, aren’t they, brothers and sisters?–we’d celebrate like this.

SEVEN!!! SEVEN POACHED VERBALS AH AH AH AH!!!!

The dirty business of lobbying 18 year olds has begun, and like most people dealing with 18 year olds, we expect only the worst and most efffective tactics to be employed: fear, cash, and sex, most notably.

You’ll need a steady hand to pass through the recruiting season, and the right tools to guide you through the dank jungle of rubber chicken dinners, strip clubs, illicit late-night drinking sessions, and surreptitious “rental car” usage you’ll find are all common downfalls of the recruiting season.

Our first cheat sheet follows, letting you know what to expect at each school. Enjoy.

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