Lack of protection may be an issue for the Georgia offense, especially up the middle.

“From one active recruiter of 13 year olds to another, we thank Coach Kiffin for his moving tribute to Michael’s work with youth,” read the statement. “We certainly appreciate it in this trying and difficult time, especially from someone so busy. Sincerely, the Jacksons.”

Kiffin could not be reached for comment, as he currently has his arm caught in a snack machine on the Tennessee campus.

A clarification is needed for a quote in Wednesdays’ “Spring Practice Capsules.” We quoted Steve Spurrier improperly due to a typographical error. The quote should have read:

We just fiddle around the wishbone in practice. It’s not for game situations, just something for the guys. The wishbone is strictly for the guys.

We apologize for any offense the gay community may have taken at the implications of the typo as it originally appeared in the piece. The wishbone is a football offense open to both straight and gay football players, and has no preferences no matter how many dive penetration jokes you make. We regret the error.

In Wednesday’s Curious Index, we reported that Cincinnati’s Brian Kelly has no sensation of any kind on the entire left side of his face after an alleged one-night stand gone horribly wrong with ESPN’s Pam Ward. Coach Kelly’s agent informs us that Kelly only lost the ability to detect hot and cold sensations on his tongue, and that he and Ms. Ward remain on cordial terms. We regret the error.

In our piece Messin’ With the BCS, we misidentified Orrin Hatch as “Representative Hatch.” Hatch is in fact the senior Senator from the Great State of Utah, serving alongside junior Senator Elder Creepy Meltyface. Also, Orrin Hatch was not the inspiration for the film Crank, though he has had sex in public with Amy Smart to save someone’s life. We regret the error.

Yesterday’s feature, “Ron Franklin: The Man, The Myth, The Monotone” contained a quote from a coordinating producer at ESPN that was misinterpreted by our editorial staff. When Franklin’s unnamed colleague remarked that talking to Franklin was “like talking to the internet”, she meant to imply that Franklin made his coworkers laugh out loud, not that Franklin is a sexual predator. We regret the error.

Tuesday’s Block-Rockin’ Eats recipe for “Rich Rodriguez’s Wampus Burgers” read 8 pounds cat meat as printed. This was not specific enough, according both to dissatisfied readers who tried the recipe and to Michigan SID Steve Trackett. Trackett called after the piece was published and clarified,

For the gamey but delicious tang of prime cat, you should use nothing but 2-4 year old overweight tabby, as the marbling is what matters most. Enjoy!

Happy grilling! We regret the error.

Tuesday’s “Better Know An Androgynous ACC Coach” reported that Boston College’s Frank Spaziani was born with both male and female genitalia, and was raised as a girl until the age of twelve, winning four consecutive Little Miss crowns at the New Jersey State Fair. Coach Spaziani actually competed in the pageant’s Junior Miss division. We regret the error.

In Monday’s Curious Index, we cited a source identifying this as a video of [NAME REDACTED] getting his penis stuck in a metal park bench in Taipei, Taiwan.

The man has since been identified as Wei-Chuan Yang, a 38 year old programmer from Taoyuan, Taiwan. [NAME REDACTED] could not possibly have been in Taipei, as he has been coaching spring practice in Champaign-Urbana with his penis stuck in particularly sexy plastic deck chair for the past week, something he says he is “excited about” and is “showing real signs of getting better and better.” He has no plans to remove it in the foreseeable future.

We regret the error.

On Thursday, we reported that Steve Kragthorpe was excommunicated by the Catholic Church for the abortion he’s committed at Louisville. This was in error, as Kragthorpe is not a Catholic, and therefore not subject to the Vatican’s spiritual oversight. Louisville Bishop Thomas Kelly did clarify though by saying that if Kragthorpe were Catholic he would be excommunicated, because getting owned by Syracuse really is an unforgivable abortion under anyone’s laws, and that he’s likely due for a retro style smiting any second now.

Last Friday’s article “IT CAME FROM CORAL GABLES” misidentified a photo as University of Miami president Donna Shalala.

The image in question is in fact a poster from the 1958 horror classic starring Christopher Lee, and should have been captioned Count Dracula. We regret the error.

Ah-ah! [thunderclap]

Monday’s post entitled “Bret Bielema Shreds!”, we reported that Bret Bielema uses old karaoke tracks to provide the background for his series of moving interpretations of popular songs. He in fact constructs the song himself with MIDI instrument tracks, and then uploads them carefully at the end of a long day. We were accurate in reporting that his favorite track is “Hunger Strike” by Temple of the Dog, because he gets to sing both parts.

Monday’s Better Know Your SEC Snack Foods mistakenly reported that gunpowder, a key ingredient in any crawfish boil, was invented by the Chinese in the tenth century.  Virginia Tech’s Frank Beamer is widely credited with the innovation in the early seventh century. We regret the error.

On Thursday’s “Mascot Watch,” we erroneously reported re: a criminal case involving Sparky, the Arizona State mascot. The United States does not recognize Burmese law, and has no extradition agreements with the military junta even if the case does involve 36 counts of sodomy, an accusation of methamphetamine smuggling, and 4 charges of extreme animal cruelty. The Sun Devil will remain in Tempe, and will be participating in the 7th annual “Devils 4 Kidz” benefit Saturday as planned. We regret the error.

Who wants a Mandalay Groin-hug? MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Our most recent edition of This Week In Broadcasting Compulsions contained a trascription error. Our interview staff mistakenly transcribed a phrase in a recent sit-down with Mike Patrick. Patrick is a compulsive hoarder. We appear to have misheard Patrick in the initial publication, and regret the error.

Friday’s “Gossip Grrrrrl” column announced that Jesse Palmer was dating recently fired ESPN personality Stacey Dales. This was inaccurate; the two are “merely friends,” according to PR sources from both parties. Palmer remains single, though he admitted that he and Tennessee women’s basketball coach Pat Summitt “have been spending a lot of time together.” We regret the error.

Wednesday’s interview with Johnny Majors did not contain any references to the former Tennessee coach’s hilarious battles with alcohol. We regret the omission, and apologize to any Tennessee fans who may have thought we were referring to another Johnny Majors in the absence of the “Johnny Majors has a drinking problem” tag.

Wednesday’s Mustache Wednesday referred to Gordon Lightfoot as “the grizzled Canadian Troubadour.” The American Council of Grizzle called our offices to clarify that Lightfoot has not passed muster for the rank of “grizzled,” and is instead merely “craggy, with a hint of wistful.” Recently promoted, however, was Howard Schnellenberger, who made grizzled rank ten with his remark that “the day I set foot on that beach in Normandy, I never wished more that there was a god in heaven, and I was never more certain that they wasn’t.” We regret the error.

In yesterday’s Old-Tyme Kiddye Storye Hour with Dennis Erickson, the Arizona State coach took a factually inaccurate tangent during a reading of “Charlie The Friendliest Policeman”. Contrary to Erickson’s stated remarks, law enforcement personnel are not required to identify themselves as such when asked “Are you a cop?”.  We regret the error.

Thursday’s interview with Jeff Pearlman, author of Boys Will Be Boys, featured a claim that Michael Irvin was the author of the following quote.

“I’ve already told you: the only way to a woman’s heart is along the path of torment. I know none other as sure.”

In a phone interview earlier today (Friday), Irvin denied authorship of the quote. The actual author is the Marquis de Sade. Irvin also said that there were many other ways to a woman’s heart: wit, charm, good conversation, and a good ear to listen to her troubles with when she’s down and needs a friend. Irvin also said touching the anus during sex just right seems to work sometimes, too, but that you got to be real careful about that. We regret the error.

Until this week, I worked 14 hour days at a Russell Athletic plant outside of Tegucigalpa, Honduras. It was brutal work: paid substandard wages, abused by adult overseers, and forced to do repetitive work without variation for months at a time. I want you to know that it was difficult for a youngster like me to bear.

That is, if I wasn’t tough as shit and didn’t have the ballingest life a kid in any country could ever have!

I mean, anywhere, and not just this godforsaken Bizarro Costa Rica I inhabit. I had money, assholes, money for the good things in life. For smokes. For beer. For fireworks to shoot at stray dogs. I had a gun! A motherfucking gun! What kind of American ninnyboy eight year old gringoshit has that kind of respect up in his waistband at the age of eight, huh?

Now my loansharking business is going to dry up, and why, you ask? No new capital, homes. Or shall I rephrase for your less-than-economically-inclined ears: I LOST MY JOB thanks to Penn State dropping my employer as a provider.

Why?

Because a bunch of college kids in Pennsylvania think my employer was abusing me.

Abuse? I’ll show you abuse when you wake up in your dorm room and my only real friend in the world, Demon the Dogo Canario, is waiting in a ventilated Fed Ex box without a label for you. Do you know how hungry he gets? Imagine that after I bribe Miami Customs to ship him through direct to you on overnight delivery. I have $480 left. It could happen.

But now, noooooo. I’m supposed to go to school. Do you remember how much school sucks? I can’t even drink in there. I could hang out and sniff glue in the alley, but you know what? I’ve matured past that. I’ve tasted too much of the good life to think the answer to life is in the bottom fold of a tube of airplane glue.

It’s at the bottom of a beer bottle, friends. Sweet, delicious, kid-tested beer. And as soon as I get my job back when a new sweatshop opens up, I’m gonna solve two problems in one stroke. First, I’m drinking a beer, and second, I’m breaking the bottle over a student protester’s head in person. Don’t say Pedro didn’t warn you.

Bob: So, how does this work?

Kelly: Okay, Bob and Jim. In the fun-for-everyone game of Cranium, the final round is decided by one question we determine at random with a roll of the die.

Jim: Sounds easy enough. And familiar.

Kelly: It should. Now, all you have to do is answer the one question, and you’ll have won the game.

Todd: Please get this right guys. I’m so tired of this game. No one except the women want to play it, and it takes FOREVER.

Bob: Don’t worry, Todd. Jim and I are gonna have us outta here in two shakes, buddy. Roll!

[Forty-five minutes pass. Todd sits at the table with his head in his hands.]

Todd: Okay, let’s see if you can get this one. “ZELPUZ.” Unscramble these letters, and you’ll have the answer.

Jim: No sweat. We got “cattle” earlier. This should be easy. Let’s go, Big Game!

Bob: Right behind you, Senator.

Jim: This is ours. I can feel it.

Todd: Okay, here’s your word. The clue is “activity.” Turn over the timer and….GO!!!

[The card reads: "Sdtgtetriianiiop" The answer is "prestidigitation." They will not get this in a thousand rolls of a thousand dice in the casinos of a very blue and improbable hell.]

Jim: That’s harder than cattle.

Bob: Yes. Yes it is.

[Three hours later.]

Jim: I swear I one one of these games once.

Bob: Okay, we’re gonna get it. What is it? Kelly? WAKE UP KELLY.

Kelly: [picks head off desk.] UM–sorry. I was nodding off there. Guys, we really don’t have to finish this–

Todd: [surrounded by beer bottles] Yeah, seriously guys. We don’t–

Jim and Bob: YES WE DO WE HAVE TO WIN THE FINAL ROUND.

Kelly: But Todd and I won hours ago. Remember? I sensosketched “bus stop,” and we got the last one?

Jim: I don’t remember that.

Bob: Funny, I don’t remember that either.

[Todd and Kelly look at each other.]

Kelly: Okay, the last question, and then you leave.

Jim: Fine, fine. Just ask the question.

Todd: It’s a humdinger. Hum the song. Leave our house it’s 2:30 in the morning. Bob, you’re humming.

Jim: But I like to hum, Todd—

Todd: YOU SHUT THE FUCKING FUCK UP TRESSEL. Bob is humming, and then he’s leaving and we’re calling game.

Jim: Well, okay then.

Todd: Here’s the card. Go. Then leave before I call the police.

[Bob takes the card. It reads: "Hot Blooded," by Foreigner. ]

Bob: Oh, we’ve got this.

[Bob Stoops stands up and begins humming out the guitar line and playing enthusiastic air guitar to the song.]

Bob: MMM MMM mmm…MMM mm MMMM MMMMMHHHHH…

Jim: I’m…I’m sorry. I just listen to gospel and country. Is this a gospel song? Can we have another question?

Kelly: LEAVE.

Bob: No, wait! We can get this! Can we do one with the putty? Those are fun!

Jim: Yeah, the play-doh stuff. We’re good at those.

Kelly: I’m dialing 9 and 1 and waiting for you to leave.

Jim and Bob: WHY DOES THIS FEEL FAMILIAR?

Todd: I hate this fucking game.

The bartender asks: “What do you want?”

And in the moment, just when John Parker Wilson is about to decide, he is tackled by three defenders wearing Utah jerseys. They take his money and mock his bangs before heading to Pat O’Brien’s to drink Hurricanes until their eyes cross.

Oh, go ahead and laugh and lean back in your chair and lean back on that most Alabamian of nostrums, “There ain’t no answer for power football.” There is: tt collapses in the face of more powerful football played to nasty precision fueled by a level of infectious anger that, to the disloyal objective viewer, had to convert you to rooting for the Utes by the second quarter.

Award Utah a fourth of the national title. This is not 2004 Utah, a team that turned a fluffy schedule and a victory over a palsied Pitt team into an undefeated season. Utah beat 5 ranked teams and embarrassed the SEC West champion. They did not lose a game this season. They had a defense that dealt out harm to all they faced and boasted one of the more accurate quarterbacks in the nation. They beat people with spread-option tactics executed with wishbone brutality.

If you want more from a team, you’re either unreasonable, a total flaming asshole, or both. In lieu of a playoff, we have to resort to fractions, and to be fair: one fraction is just as good as another.

Therefore, the gold coin of the national title this year will be delved out in pieces of eight. Utes, you get at least a quarter for perfection achieved against quality. This may seem unfair, and it is, but in this most imperfect of college football worlds, unfair desserts are the only dish on the menu.

[Snow Patrol's "Open Your Eyes" swells in the background]

(….which, let’s face it, could be anywhere…)

One team returns for their first shot at glory in ten years…

and another is about to get the awakening of a lifetime.

“That tingling….it’s not just coming from the outside.”

Heads will roll. Pants will drop. Mike Stoops loses football games.

THE LAS VEGAS BOWL: Bend, don’t break.

The Las Vegas Bowl opens December 20th at 8:00 PM on ESPN. For a summary of the entire weekend, please see Messr. Swindle’s summary of the weekend over at The Sporting Blog.

So I was running the Sweaty Wishbone with this Filipina in the back of her car the other day when I thought: this girl has got some fight in her! Just like the Arizona defense. They’re eighteenth in the nation in total defense, and if the vaunted USC defense doesn’t stop Willie Tuitama two weeks ago, we’re talking about them being the dominant unit in the Pac-10, not the Trojans. Whew! The way that girl threw it around I thought we were going to knock the buttery brown skins off those luscious adobo-powered love onions.

God, just thinking about that gets me sweaty and desperate. I’m gonna take care of this in the car where the bank teller can see it. Thank God the boys aren’t here.

PHINEAS! J.! HOGGFATHERRRRRRR!!!

Sorry, I just had to take care of that. I mean, what’s with the Pac-10? It’s a complete muddle, and even USC can’t seem to throw it down like they used to do. I was at a swingers’ party talking to a guy about it, and how we just couldn’t figure it out. He was a fat accountant named Stu, and while he was playing pink thermometer for Nancy–er, sorry, “Randy Rita”–he asked me, “Hey, ya think Dennis Erickson lost his touch?”

I thought about it. Maybe he has: just look at Erickson’s dismal in-conference record. The woman’s friend was busy with him while I kept myself in a holding pattern. “The Sun Devils are 1-4 in conference games this year. I mean, that’s just not gonna get it done at ASU!” He agreed with me. Then, ready to go, we hosed those ladies down like angry riot cops and went to the buffet.

(The kids are mine. Donald’s in the Navy because he can’t support them and they’re mine. I can’t help myself. Daisy was like a remora. Twice a day for seven years. Insatiable. Like a she-wolf in constant heat. Don’t judge me.)

I mean, Oregon State’s in line for the Rose Bowl: that’s right, Oregon State, the team that got killed by Penn State 45-14 on the road. I don’t want to downgrade what they’ve done, but that’s not exactly who you’d guess was in the catbird seat, now would ya?

You know what else I you wouldn’t guess? I’m having sex right now with my hairdresser. In drag.

We’re friends with benefits. I get free haircuts, and she gets nine inches of gratitude in multiple, rapid installments. I’ll be done in a second.

RUTHERFORD! B! HAAAAYYYES!!!!

Whew! Where was I? They do have Jacquizz Rodgers, who almost proves that size doesn’t matter. Almost, because it does, ladies. I’m thick like great steak and can use it to roll bread dough. Pants fear me. Sometimes I just drape towels on it not to brag, but because it’s useful. Call me. I’ll ruin you for other men. Ducks. Whatever.

Speaking of the Ducks: talk about perseverance in the face of a curse. They get down to their third stringer at qb and still make it 6-3? Way to make sausage out of shinola, Ducks? Doing the name proud. I used that pride to push through a difficult menage a trois the other night. I was on the ropes, but Chandra and Jessica had to tap out after I caught my fifth wind and put them into submission holds. Oh, yes. Duck is kosher, and still undefeated in the Cocktagon.

I’m sorry. Just one second. I have to finish pleasuring the maid. Ludmila, lift your leg, sweetie.

HERCULES! P.! BUTTERWOOOOOOORTH!!!

God, thats’s refreshing. How bout that Stanford? Jim Harbaugh, you’ve got them at 5-4 and looking at a bowl. That’s a great rebuild job, dude. Man, anyone can win this conference! Hey, you. Yes, you. Meet me in the back of the hangar in two minutes. I’ve got to pick up Mr. McD in fifteen minutes. I can have you barrel rolling in four. Let’s do the math together in two. Any landing’s a good landing, and judging from those support hose, you’ve had a few crashes in your day. I’ll bring you home in one piece, baby. Trust me.

Don’t forget about Cal? Anyone trust them to show up for two games in a row? Not this guy!

Georgia fan: Where’d I put my “You don’t need nObama if you got Knowshon” sticker?

Crazy Old Testament God: HELLO GEORGIA FAN. PUT DOWN YOUR DRINK AND QUAKE IN MY AWESOME PRESENCE. I HAVE A TEST FOR YOU.

GF: Damn! Are you the scary guy from the Oak Ridge Boys?

COTG: NO. I AM CRAZY OLD TESTAMENT GOD, AND THE SCHEDULE’S CHANGED. I WORK ON WEDNESDAY NOW, AND THAT IS TOO BAD FOR YOU. I WILL SEND YOU TRAVELING THROUGH TIME TO SEE YOUR INNER SOUL REFLECTED IN THE EVENTS WHICH BROUGHT HUMANITY TO THIS POINT. YOU WILL DISAPPOINT ME, BUT I WILL DO THIS ANYWAY.

GF: Like that show, Centrum Leap? I HATED that show. It came on the same time as Hunter!

COTG: THAT WAS NO SHOW. SCOTT BAKULA IS CURRENTLY IN THE FIFTEEN CENTURY FIGHTING SPANISH CONQUISTADORS. HE HAS SMALLPOX, AND WILL DIE SHORTLY. HIS PAIN IS UNENDING.

GF: Whatever, man. When’s Hunter comin’ back on! That DeeDee was somethin’!

COTG: STEPFANIE KRAMER MAY BE SEEN IN 2006′S CUTTING EDGE 2: GOING FOR THE GOLD. YOUR JOURNEY BEGINS NOW.

(POP!)

GF: Big Bang? That ain’t nothin’ compared to Samford Stadium on Saturday WOOOO DOGS SIC ‘EM!!!

(POP!)

GF: KICKAAAASSS!! I’m at least four thousand years in the past!

(POP!)

GF: Whutcha mean you ain’t got Mu Shu Pork? What don’t you understand about “NUMBER EIGHT, EXTRA EGGROLL?” You don’t wanna RILE ME, WANG FOO!

(POP!)

GF: Awesome! My pastor’s gonna flip when I give him James Caviezel’s autograph. I’ll hide the beer in the picture, though.

(POP!)

GF: Lawdy, we did the same damn thing to LSU last week. Sic ‘em, Aztec! WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF. And again: MEL GIBSON IS FULL OF SHIT, pardon mah language.

(POP!)

GF: You Yankees are crazy–for livin’ where it’s so cold. Man, I’m gonna stand over here by this fire. Something smells awesome, though.

(POP!)

GF: Always root for the team in red! SIC ‘EM WOOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!!!

(POP!)

GF: Topless and speakin’ French? Why you all following the LSU fan? She’s just lookin’ for a corn dog BECAUSE LSU FANS LIKE CORNDOGS ARP ARP ARP ARP!

GF: I’m in a car with Erk Russell and Hitler! THE Erk Russell! He makes them trains run ON TIME!

(POP!)

GF: I ain’t impressed. You ask Willie Martinez how to blow up Hawaii proper-like next time, Chinamen!

(POP!)

GF: I don’t even know what this is. It must be gay, though.

(POP!)

GF: TECH NERDZ! AHM IN UR MOVIE, KILLIN’ UR CAPTAIN KIRK!!! NERDS! ARP ARP ARP ARP ARP ARP—

(POP!)

GF: Hey, Crazy God. How’d I do, man?

COTG: (SIGH.) BETTER THAN THOSE KISSASSES TEBOW AND RICHT, ACTUALLY. YOUR STUPIDITY WAS REFRESHING. CARRY ON.

GF: Do what?

COTG: GIT WOO SIC EM WHATEVER YOU CRETINOUS WRETCH.

GF: You heard that? HE’S A DAWG FAN! SUCK ON THAT, GAYTURDS JORTS ARP ARP ARP ARP!!!

Forgive me father, for I enjoy the sounds of “Rocky Top”.

ORSON, Florida: “I like Georgia’s colors.”

HOLLY, Tennessee: “I think the recitation of Neyland’s Maxims is one of the dumber traditions in college football and would like nothing better than to see it scrapped.”

PB, Texas: “I don’t hate Kirk Herbstreit like I should. It’s pitiful.� He has some weird charisma that overwhelms my rational mind. Maddening.”

SIGNAL TO NOISE, USC: “I’ve started to hate Mark Sanchez. I was uneasy with it; there was something I couldn’t place.� I was kind of “well, he’s the QB of the team I root for,” but when the announcers last week compared him to Vince from Entourage, my hate made sense.”

ROCKABYE REGGIE NELSON, Florida: “I prefer games on TV to games in person.”

WORSTFAN, Ohio State: “I want Ohio State to lose again, so I can stop trying to rationalize how they still deserve to be in consideration to be “in it”.� I say this as a holder of two Ohio State degrees and former 5 year resident of the 43210.”

BURRITOBROSSHITS, Florida: “Feigning love for the Buckeyes to get laid.� Actually worked but I felt really dirty and guilty afterwards.� I didn’t have the heart to tell her, though, so I just bounced.”

MONDAY MORNING PUNTER, Ohio State: “Daryll Clark is the man! He strikes me as the kind of guy that could take a girl out to a nice dinner the one minute and then toss her down a flight of stairs the next.”

LT. WINSLOW, Miami: “Fuck it. I don’t regret it. I shared a brief, romantic moment with my coke-whore ex girlfriend’s best friend inside the privacy of a stall in the women’s bathroom in the west endzone of the Orange Bowl at the ‘06 Miami-FSU game. There were little teardrop shaped titties and a baggie of white powder and I’d do it again if I had the chance.”

We feel better already.� Please, do join the purge party below with your worst transgressions.

The week’s picks, divided into the quasi-rational and nakedly irrational.

#18 Tennessee @ UCLA

SWINDLE: OPTION: QUASI-RATIONAL. Don’t consider this an endorsement of Tennessee so much as a suspicion that UCLA’s battered offensive line, JUCO starter Kevin Craft, and new offensive schemes will give Tennessee the opportunity to line up a few par 3 touchdowns thanks to turnovers. Tennessee will introduce the Clawfense, which is new itself and will feature spectacular, vurping hiccups. (Option route peekaboo: you run slant, I thought you were going the other way, we give six the other way ROCK.)

In a battle of two freshly molted offenses, though, Tennessee’s got better, less maimed tools to work with here. Our fanfiction ends with UCLA’s defense getting swamped by the offense putting them into untenable, unwinnable positions. Add in the unscoutability of the Clawfense–relatively unseen to this point–and the biggest winners of this game may be the Florida defensive coaching staff, who will have fresh gametape of Tennessee’s brand new dance.

(Oh, and because this is fanfiction, Ron Weasley is over in the corner tagging Hermione while Voldemort watches from his spank chair. That’s happening, too.)

HOLLY: RATIONAL/BLATANT HOMERISM Tut tut, looks like rain. Tennessee: New QB with mileage comparable to an Oldsmobile Alero never driven anywhere except to church on Sundays by your great-great-aunt. A new offense that center Josh McNeil describes as “really complicated”. (Josh McNeil, you will recall, is not dumb.) And somehow…are those…safeties? In orange?? UCLA: Three-fourths of a working quarterback, combined, a set of Norm Chow schemes that will take weeks, if not a season to hone, and not one player with a prayer of running past our D-line. Advantage: Vawls.

Kentucky @ Louisville

SWINDLE: QUASI-RATIONAL Snack-sized Tony Dixon has a massive game, Kentucky wins, and Steve Kragthorpe adjusts ballcap, stares impassively towards godless, unforgiving sky. Dicky Lyons had a dream he had to fight his fiancee to the death, and when he woke up, he thought that she was still a better contest than the challenge of beating Louisville’s secondary, who made Florida’s look “almost competent” in comparison last year.

HOLLY: QUASI-RATIONAL-ISH Mildcats, per conference bias and Randy Sanders turning out to be an all-right quarterbacks coach. Where’d he pick that up?

#20 Illinois @ #6 Missouri

SWINDLE: QUASI-RATIONAL: Missouri. Outside of CB Vontae Davis, Illinois’ defense took a relatively laissez-faire to defending the pass last year, and that was with a schedule whose most intimidating passer was…oh, wait! That was Chase Daniel, who hadn’t even seen the glowing orb around Jeremy Maclin indidcating he was the impact player yet when Illinois lost 40-34. llinois stayed in this game last year thanks to Missouri turnovers and still lost; at a neutral site with Daniel at qb and no Rashard Mendenhall to hog possession, Missouri wins despite Juice Williams looking better than one might think Juice Williams has a right to, frankly.

HOLLY: QUASI-RATIONAL Chase Daniel in a shootout, despite being a contemporary of Martin Van Buren, because it’s easy to win a shootout when Illinois brings knives.� To the gun fight.� See what I did there?

Michigan State @ Cal

SWINDLE: IRRATIONAL: Cal. No one’s talking about them, they’re operating without the slightest whiff of interest from the press or rabble, and this means we are all woefully incorrect about them. Also, Dantonio didn’t start Jehuu Caulcrick, who was huge and therefore entertaining. Actions must have consequences.

HOLLY: IRRATIONAL Cal, in a squeaker that won’t speak well for the head-scratchingly competitive Pac-10.� I watched an eminently beatable Nate Longshore pick apart Tennessee a year ago; he can only have settled the fuck down.� Right?

#24 Alabama @ #9 Clemson

SWINDLE: IRRATIONAL: Alabama. We now reach into the UNO deck and pull out the “Tommy Bowden Flip” card: what are the expectations? Massive success? Flip that, take its opposite, and you lose your turn in the process. We just think Alabama’s going to win for reasons that go no further than a bet on Clemson to come through completely on expectations is a bet for defeat.

HOLLY:� IRRATIONAL Bama.� Because fuck Clemson, that’s why.

Arkansas State @ Texas A&M

SWINDLE: IRRATIONAL: Texas A&M. Karma for not changing their team name to “The Arkansas State Meth Lab Explosion.”

HOLLY: IRRATIONAL I’m going AK State, by virtue of them being a) a not-bad football squad that no major conference team seems to notice until the game gets uncomfortably close in the second half *ahem*, and b) being unofficially mascotted after last year’s renaming contest as The Arkansas State Hot Springs. You’d pay to see a mascot squirt boiling water at opposing student sections. You would, liar.

Florida Atlantic @ #11 Texas

SWINDLE: QUASI-RATIONAL: Texas. But not by all that much. The cognitive shortcut most people are taking here is “2007 close scare versus UCF = early season thriller versus small but feisty Florida school > ability not to take bait on upset.” Add in the ineffable lightness of being Howard Schnellenberger and you’re swallowing the spinner bait con gusto. FAU is very, very tough: on the road at Florida last year, they were 28-20 right before the half and had Florida fans sweating the bad sweat at the Swamp. (The good sweat smells of cinnamon and victory; the bad stuff reeks of ass and shame.) They also will be in Texas, will have half as much talent, and will wilt in the fourth quarter as the talent gradient avalanche begins to crush them.

HOLLY: QUASI-RATIONAL Texas, but see above re: AK State. Schnelly don’t holler for nothin’, y’all.

Utah @ Michigan

SWINDLE: IRRATIONAL: Utah. Because we like the deep, well-traveled neurochemical pathways in our brain, like the one where Michigan drops a home opener to a team running the spread offense. It’s almost as comfortable as the one where, against a Florida team in a bowl game, they make us want to give ourself a facial with a belt sander.

HOLLY: IRRATIONAL Utah.� Because Charles Woodson is fat, fat, fat.

#3 USC @ Virginia

SWINDLE: IRRATIONAL: USC, BUT SCARY. Unless we’re talking about an opening series against Arkansas, USC can start the season with stutters, and has. UVA, when not giving Miami the most humiliating and aberrant home loss of their program’s history, likes to play sludgy, inconsistent, and often slow-paced football. We just feel a Groh game in the works: just on the verge of upset, perhaps even nustling its nose in victory’s collar and thinking fine thoughts about what could be…and then a house falls on them.

HOLLY: QUASI-RATIONAL USC, due to bringing a football team to Charlottesville.� (No, this is totally rational.� Have you seen UVa’s line?� Is “line” really the word we’re looking for here?)

Hawaii @ #5 Florida

SWINDLE: QUASI-RATIONAL: FLORIDA. Hawaii will be playing at six in the morning their time in a sweaty hellbath of screaming rednecks and the color orange. They will face a team whose talent is inarguably a grade above theirs at every position. The offense they must stop is one of the top three or four in the country even without Percy Harvin starting. Also, they are Hawaii, and they are playing halfway around the world. Boys for Pele, but in reverse.

HOLLY: QUASI-RATIONAL Florida.� Whoever scheduled this game for a noon kickoff ought to be dragged to the Hague.

First, I’d like to welcome everyone here today. We work really hard to make a program that everyone can be proud of here at Iowa, and though we’ve had our struggles like any team, we believe you can be proud of that. We’re your team, ladies, and you turning out to see us today and to participate in our clinic is a great compliment. We thank you.

Second, we will be engaging in some serious physical activity today, so note the water and gatorade stands along the back wall. There’s also some bite-size protein bars back there if you need ‘em, but go easy on them. They’re bulky and tend to speed things up, if you know what I mean.

Now. Most other programs like to take advantage of this opportunity to parade shirtless players around like pieces of meat. This is unfair, I think: not only does it cheapen the bodies our players work so hard to build, but it leaves the ladies wanting something more, I think, for their hard-earned dollar than a bunch of guys in their underwear posing suggestively. I don’t like it, and we won’t do it here at Iowa.

I tell you what we will do, though.

Today, we’re gonna give you the chance to fuck the Iowa Hawkeyes.

Now, if you’ll look around, you’ll notice the benches are covered with towels. We recommend you use them, since this is an athletic environment, and the last thing anyone needs here is a dose of MRSA. You’ve been issued Hawkeye lube tubes, each containing Astroglide, an offical sponsor of this clinic. Use them to prevent unpleasant chafing that might affect your performance.

These are elite athletes, ladies, so don’t be afraid to push them. Many of you have been married for decades now, and if you’re like most married people, a hearty nap and a DVD-accompanied buzz job from the Fukuoku 9000 is your sexual Happy Meal. I assure you, our boys are up to much, much more than that. Some of them already have children, in fact! Be sure to test their limits, because unless you’ve been going to Curves pretty religiously, you’ll wear out before they do.

The benches are reserved for simple crouch missionary, which we perform with both feet on the floor here in Iowa City. We believe in five points of contact: the feet, the hands on the bar or on the bench, and of course, the genitals. Technique is key: as the partner, make sure you practice reps with your back flat to the bench, and with just a hint of tuck-under at the apex of the rep. Work with intensity and speed, and we’ll see some results you’ll be happy with, lady Hawkeyes.

Also: female superior is recommended on these benches, as well. Gentlemen, though I know you like to show off, please avoid overarching the back. We need you strong on the field, not injured in training.

Mats on the floor are reserved for rear entry submissive. Remember to watch the knees, which can abrade during vigorous training, and to support your elbows with a good shoulder press to prevent sagging. If you’re not strong enough, employ the Nandi Plow mod, which our S&C coach Chris Doyle will be more than happy to demonstrate for those who need it.

For the more adventurous, we have Olympic cages, ropes, and pullup bars on the far side of the weight room. Remember: we encourage creative training, but also want you to be safe. For that purpose use the condoms provided in bowls around the room for your training.

Two things and then we’re ready!

First: Finish the drill, ladies. But keep it sanitary, if you know what I mean. We use plenty of bleach here already, and need your cooperation to keep our supplies bills down. In football terms: no hits to the head or upper chest, gentlemen!

Second: Gentlemen, I repeat: ASK PERMISSION. We’ve had issues with this in the past.

Okay, who wants to be the first proud superfan? Volunteers? Not all at once, okay? LET’S GO LADIES! Don’t just stand there looking at me! LET’S GO!

If we’re playing the Social D, then it’s wrong time…or at least speculative wrong time. A long IM conversation with Russell from Football Outsiders prompted this question: what, if anything, does instituting a forty second play clock do besides put the onus on the officials to spot the ball faster? Even if the take 15 seconds to spot the ball–and watching this laggardly work by an SEC crew in this year’s LSU/Rebels game, that’s fairly brisk–it’s likely a push with the current system. And the more plays bit could come from the variable time that bleeds off the clock while the officials are pushing their walkers around spotting the ball. (Get them some offroad tires on those motherfuckers!)

So the 40 second clock may not be the real problem here, as Russell was quick and correct to point out. We were wrong, potentially, here, if the more logical types we know are correct.

The real-play shaver is still there, though:

“After a player runs out of bounds and the ball is made ready to play, the official will start the game clock. Under the old rules the game clock would not start until the ball was snapped. This new rule will not apply in the final two minutes of the first half and the final two minutes of the game.”

Hrm. it won’t be 3-2-5-e level trimmin’, but there’s some absolute time loss here without the promise of more plays. But that’s not the point here: we jumped the gun here and didn’t do our math correctly. See after the jump for the requisite self-flagellation.

(We have no idea who did this…but well played, sir. In a ruthless, heartless bastard way.)