When someone whips your ass into a red hot pile of shame, you tend to have a great amount of respect for them. Tyrone Prothro nearly did that by himself in the Florida/Alabama game last year before a questionable call by Mike Shula and a lightning bolt of horrid luck culminated in him breaking his leg into a useless mess. We respect the hell out of him, which makes the fact that he’s unlikely to play at all in 2006 nothing less than a total fucking shame.

On the bright side, the Gator D might hold him under a hundred yards in the matchup in the Swamp this fall. But don’t underestimate him…

Get this man a redshirt STAT!

Uber-recruit Rusty Cocklord pulls a theatrical recruiting stunt for the ages, and the House Rock Built is all over it.

Cocklord shortly before pulling a dick move switheroo.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN…the second match on the card for THE BURGER KING MEATNORMOUS™ HEAVYWEIGHT DIVISION (sponsored in part by Crestor: “You don’t really want to die, do you, you miserable little piglet?”™)…we kindly ask the crew to please come in the ring and clean the greasy remnants of Coach Friedgen from the ring please, and would ask Mark Mangino to please move and bring back the sun…thank you, thank you sir. Yes, again…LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, without further delay we bring you our next two components in the “Goddamn, bust out a wall for their ass-” Meatnormous division…two dessert bar villains of unparalleled skill and tenacity, both hometown heroes fighting without injury at peak form. A matchup between two men so big, the number two is really stretched to the limits of its meaning: Phil “Gojira!” Fulmer and Tom “Hot Pockets” Amstutz!!!

Phil Fulmer

May spray frosting from his eyes, versus…

Height: 6?2″

Weight: 260-280 pounds, depending on lunch.

Hometown: Winchester, TN

Fighting style: Judo/Jiu-jitsu. Lots of throws, joint locks, and submission fighting technique here. Has been known to conceal frosting gun to blind opponents in the folds of his gi, or may possibly possess the power to excrete frosting. More on that later…
(more…)

How do the Orgeron, Urban Meyer, Pete Carroll, and other monster recruiters land HTPs? It’s obvious, says Neal McCready of the Mobile Register: they cheat. All of them. Every time. A wise column on the iniquities and absurdity of the Handshake Wars, especially focusing on the message board mania that’s become an integral part of the hoopla.

We have some thinking-ass readers out there…deftly weighing (and that is the correct word) the pros and cons of each fighter’s attributes, our readers have decided by a vote of 20-15 or so that the victor in the epic battle of wills between Mark “Manwich” Mangino, a.k.a Jabba the Hawk, and Ralph “Fry Daddy” Friedgen goes to…Mark Mangino, whose spherical body and absolute immobility subdues the tenacious but gimpy Friedgen in three rounds. There were many versions of how it went down, but most centered on Friedgen’s bad hip, which would bring him down to the level of an overweight giraffe fighting on one leg against a enormous boll weevil of a man.

We imagine the fight went something like this.

Reader Dave has a compelling summary:

This ends the only way it can - with poor Ralph fighting a noble battle, but ultimately succumbing to Mangino’s enormity. When he is crushed and absorbed into the many, many folds of Mangino, only the mangled Motorola headset and whistle ejected from the creases of fat will serve as a reminder that Friedgen was ever there at all.

Philly Gator also presents his case well, particularly a summary of Friedgen’s likely final, desperate moves:

In a last ditch effort at durvival, Fridge distends his jaw, much like a Burmese Python, and takes a vicious bite at Mangino’s whirring girth. To the dismay of Maryland fans the world over, Fridge is too late and is blindsided by Mangino’s left love handle. Fridge’s body immediately explodes like a stuffed jalepeno popper covering the crowd in a pool of nacho cheese and sour cream.

Poor Ralph doesn’t make it out of the first round, and his body is donated to science, which instantly identifies it as a new planet and names it “X532-Alpha.” Mangino lives on, but dear reader, remember: fighting at these weights takes a toll on the participants, and with the steady IV of liquified ziti and mozzarella Mangino undoubtedly required following the fight, his circulatory system is a virtual replica of the Houston freeway system at rush hour right now. Dangerous times for thin arteries in that neighborhood, for sure.

Lifelong Seminole fan and 4 star cornerback prospect announced that he’ll be wearing orange and blue next season. Afterwards, Patrick Robinson announced that the Florida Gators are much better than Cats.

Urban Meyer knows how to close the deal on recruits. No word if an Escalade is involved in the process.

Mexico believes that Virginia Tech has “over reacted” by giving Marcus the boot following an obvious attempt to injure Elvis Dumervil during the Gator Bowl. According to the elder Mexico, “He didn’t do anything wrong. The world will all know when the truth comes out.” Either Mexico didn’t hear about the whole underage girl thing, the brandishing the fire arm thing, and didn’t see the obviously intentional spiking of Dumervil or he too is a colosal douche. We’re leaning towards the latter.

Ron Mexico seen here mentoring his oft framed little brother.

Georgia’s Mark Richt is quickly becoming a Georgia institution with his consistent success and now his bid for some serious longevity. Richt was given a 500K raise to 2 Million dollars per annum in an 8 year deal.

Golly Gee, I love being the Georgia coach.

Jurray Casey, who had allegedly verballed to play at the University of Oregon, has another alleged to add to his record: allegedly killing a 17 year old in a shooting in Long Beach, California. We’ll go so far as to predict that Bellotti will rescind his supposed offer, and we’ll skip the obvious joke about Bobby Bowden suddenly becoming interested. (But we didn’t!)

Again, courtesy of reader Comanda, an update on the Garret Bushong “We run this place” Purdue story:

The Exponent-now firmly in the lead for dorkiest name in all of college football newspaperdom-reports today that Bushong’s letter got such a nasty response on campus it has elicited a formal apology, co-written by Bushong with Associate AD Jay Cooperider. An excerpt:

My thoughts published in the Jan. 23 edition of the Exponent have set off a reaction that I could not have predicted and really regret…When I wrote the letter, I was trying to communicate directly to other football players and other student-athletes who feel as I do…I overreacted by writing the letter, and I am sorry.

Joe Tiller responded, too, saying that “The wholesome stuff that we do is boring to you guys,” Tiller said. “But that is life.”

Patently untrue! We find the wholesome stuff just as fascinating. For example: today, our sources reported that University of Florida offensive lineman Jim Tartt awoke early and headed for the weight room, stopping by the student cafeteria for a balanced but hearty breakfast of whole wheat toast, a four egg-white omelet, and a glass of orange juice. Tartt thought about grabbing a cherry danish, reached for it, and then recoiled when he thought of the negative physiological effects of long-term simple sugar consumption could have on his system. He then finished his meal, nary spilling a drop of his food and eating with what witnesses dubbed “impeccable, awe-inspiring table manners.” As he entered the weight room, he held the door open for teammate Jemalle Cornelius, who thanked him cordially as he exited the facility with a smile. Courtesy, manners, and decorum were clearly the order of the day for Gator football this morning.

See? Wasn’t that just as interesting? Who says we don’t report the good stuff?

Jim Tartt: playa got manners like WHOA.

Matt Meinrod, former East Lake Eagle star and Florida State center, had his petition for a 6th year of eligibility denied by the NCAA, ending his college career. Off to the draft with you Matty.

We dropped out of the first-run movie consuming public sometime shortly after our family purchased a VCR and a worn copy of Sharkey’s Machine. But here on Mustache Wednesday, we can’t help but ignore the horror being assembled in the studios and backrooms of Hollywood: a rehashed big-screen version of…Magnum P.I.

Why will it suck? Besides the obvious reasons of it being a rehashed television series? A few of our predictions:

1. The shorts won’t be short enough. They just won’t; part of the insouciant confidence that Magnum brought to the screen came via his insistence on wearing pantalones so brief Richard Simmons would balk at them. Magnum didn’t care, and neither did the endless parade of big-haired, generously bosomed, and flat-assed television beauties who waltzed through his waterbed on the show. Some people saw “gay”, but ladies saw easy access and some serious confidence in a nice pair of he-legs.

2. ACTC will be too fit. TC was supposed to look like a guy who drank beer and flew a helicopter. The film version will be someone like Ving Rhames at the peak of a nandralone cycle. TC was tough, sure, but he wasn’t pansy enough to worry about ab work. He was too busy buzzing volcanoes, sleeping with the one black woman who walked in the bar, and kicking ass without caring enough to take names. Don’t believe us? Watch the episode where he beats up half the adult male population of the Big Island to save the orphanage. Bad. Ass.

Inexcusable error-the author has been shot.-ed pps. Not fatally, but he is very badly wounded.-ed.

3. The mustache, whomever may be knighted to wear it, won’t compare. It can’t so don’t try.

He is all that is man.

*** Stranko’s 2 Cents*** I could get behind this project
IF it were to star a mustachioed Matt Leinart as Magnum and Reggie Bush as TC AND it is directed by Ang Lee and produced by EOE to be shown non-stop on ESPNHD. Otherwise, it is an abomination.

Glen Mason’s contract situation sounds all the warning bells of an unending dysfunctional relationship one of your friends is mired in: a tenacious codependency, doe-eyed and unconcealed flirtations outside of the relationship, passive-aggression leaking from every pore, and just when you think the boring, wounded beast of the relationship has breathed its last…it staggers back to health to oppress everyone in your social circle with endless tales of mundane drama and late-night screaming matches.

We guess what we’re trying to say is that after months and months of bickering, Glen Mason still hasn’t signed his contract extension with the University of Minnesota. The hangup now? “Language changes.” Hmm…we imagine…

Clause 8a: The University hereby acknowledges the hard work that Coach Mason, hereto referred to as GLEN, does as head coach of the University. The University also officially acknowledges that it has been an insensitive jerk, unappreciative of Glen’s sacrifices, like doing the dishes when the University was asleep on the couch, or Glen giving up his dreams of graduate school and living in Paris to raise a football team, or the time Glen covered for the University on its mother’s birthday with a sweet gift card from Amazon after the University forgot and went to play a quick eighteen instead. The University would like to include this diamond pendant and a weekend spa treatment as the start of a long apology. Don’t leave, baby, please don’t leave, baby.

Someone call Dr. Phil.

In a move to get on ESPN, the Arkansas-Southern Cal rematch will be played on September 2, a week earlier than originally scheduled. We are surprised that the worldwide leader still knows USC exists now that Bush and Bob the Bachelor are taking their games to the NFL.

Now he’ll be making passes and passing out roses on Sundays.

We can’t really decide whether to like or detest the composite figure that is the Ohio State fanbase. On one hand: rowdy, dedicated, and rude as hell, which plucks piano strings of emotions for a Florida fan whose own fans have thrown pee at opposing teams and have a reputation for being regal smartasses. On the other: beating up crippled people, posting comments of…well, doobiyus speellingg and gramer at a rate slightly higher than their regional rivals, and loving Cheatypants McSweatervest, whose we wouldn’t trust to watch our bike for three seconds.

This sign posted on Deadspin gives us that exact sensation all in a single image:

We did, too. But does it make us hate or love the OSU fanbase? Oh, the ambiguity…