Greetings, nincompoops. My name is Bill Callahan. I’m hear to speak to you regarding the shoulder injury of Sam Keller, our current starting quarterback. He’s out for the rest of the season, a pitiable travesty of fate for our beloved signal-caller, my prize progeny of my prodigious West Coast offense, a distributor of dextrous deadly football deliveries from his deft digits, oh, a light! Yes, a lustrous beam of sunshine into my drab, forlorn tenure upon the alien corn of this disconsolate prairie.

Nebraska football, 2007.

(Oh, Cortez. Was Keats right? Did you feel exhilaration staring upon that vast, cerulean carpet? Would that I have anything but the oceans of my unappreciated genius to drown my sorrows in, vanquished conquistador! My voyage has taken me only further into this damned moonscape called America without a speck of Incan gold for reward. Unless you count my multimillion dollar salary, of course.)

I can espy from the slackening jaws and empty, unthinking stares of your simian countenances that I’ve yet again managed to blind you with the incandescence of my thoughts. Staring at the sun seems mean next to my thoughts, no? Well, let’s just put it in the pidgin you can understand.

KELLER OUCHIE! HURT OUCHIE WAAAAAAHHH!! NO TALK SPECIFICS!!! JOE GANZ THROW BALL HUSKER WAY HEAPUM TOUCHDOWNS NOT RESIGNING MMKAY? OW MY BALLZ!

(throws candy and beer…reporters scatter on the floor in a frenzy)

There. Having debased myself for the handful of cowrie shells I slave for each day here in the third circle of hell, I bid thee adieu, you gag-faced giblet-gobbling gomerals. Good day and die swiftly, shitkickers.

Buckeye Commentary spots a great Kirk Barton quote from why tOSU took particular savor from their victory in Happy Valley against the Penn State Saturday. It all comes down to one thing: don’t mess with the band.

“Real quick before I go on, I just want to say we dedicated this to our band, well, that’s something I came up with because they couldn’t come back after they had like piss bombs and blood balls thrown at them last year, so this is for our band. It’s not all Penn State fans, it only takes a couple, but it spoils the whole experience of college football for our band. Just let them know we’re thinking about them (the band).”

Don’t waste blood balls, kids. Also: remember to pay your taxes.

Blood balls? Dear god…we know that blood balls had a deep and enduring role in the traditions of college football, but sweet jesus, what kind of savage throws them? They should be cherished for what they are and their unique roles at each school, not tossed willy-nilly at the band like so many loose bolts and broken glass.

At LSU, they fry them; at Miami, they throw them at chalk outlines to prevent investigations from proceeding (no snitching!); at Tennessee they feed them to Phil; at Ole Miss, they throw them at Ed Orgeron, who wears a loincloth and carries a flamethrower around campus on Thursdays just to send a message to the world. At Wisconsin they drink them, since the prevailing BAC in Madison is high enough to qualify blood balls as high-gravity beer; at Washington, Ty Willingham uses them as golf balls on the driving range, where he is the ball two to three hours a day, not the club. In

But throwing them? Please. Blood balls are too precious a commodity for mere band-baiting. That’s what piss-bombs are for, and West Virginia fans will be more than happy to send someone for a train-the-trainer session in that.

We have a lawyer we can call at 2:45 a.m. in our cellphone. We have several, actually, mostly because everyone we knew went to law school, a sort of advanced youth camp for adolescents that only costs 20-30K a year and involves learning unlearning the English language and playing golf. The conversations usually run something like this:

O: dOOd.

Lawya: d00d.

O: I just watched Pathfinder. Vikings rool. Ahm drunk.

Lawya: Going back to bed now.

O: fuck you!

Lawya: (Click!)

This may be the first thing we have in common with Ryan Perrilloux, who was allegedly beaten up along with linebacker Derrick Odom at The Varsity in Baton Rouge. You don’t party with your pregnant girlfriend? Playa, shine up and get the lady out the house once in a while. Even pregnant ladies can crank dat.

According to a police report, bouncers at the Varsity claimed they were forced to escort LSU football players Perrilloux and Odom outside the club after they refused to leave. Parish law says bars must close at 2 a.m. Bouncers also said several subjects made statements that they would leave and come back with guns.

Perilloux and Odom told police they were unfairly treated by the bouncers, and that the bouncers shoved them and their pregnant girlfriends out of the club. No charges have been filed and no arrests have been made.

Odom, previously involved in a fracas at an apartment complex, also posted this following whatever happened on Friday night at the club on his Facebook page on Saturday morning according to the LSU Reveille.

Odom’s public profile on Facebook, an online social network, featured a status message early Saturday morning that may have alluded to the situation.

“Derrick is trippin on how these fools try to run up on u behind ya back when they know they cant fuck wit u 1 on 1 but he got something that will shut all that shit down,” he wrote at 8:05 a.m. Saturday.

He has to be referring to sterling conflict resolution skills, in which case he can apply to law school and kill two birds with one stone for Perriloux, being both his lawyer and his, um…lawya. Miles is holding both out of practice pending some investigation and clarification regarding the incident, but remember these three things from the incident:

1. Ryan Perriloux has a lawyer he can call at 2:45 a.m.

2. Even if you are a pregnant lady, you can get tossed out of a Baton Rouge club.

3. Never, ever Facebook at 8 in the morning following a night of clubbin’. Even if the fight dont end til u die BITCH.

All disclosures first: we’ve talked with Bruce Feldman on the phone, met him in person once, and are quoted once in his new book on recruiting, Meat Market. We’re also quoted in several other books, as well, including Gridskipper’s upcoming guide to sex clubs around the world. (Pg. 256, Bangkok section. “No club is more welcoming to the homely, naked, and needy male than Club Superpussy! A thousand cocktails to them! Come for the awkward group sex, stay for the Pad Thai special!”)

Nevertheless, despite having contact with us, Feldman is a masterful observational writer, disappearing into the background of Meat Market as the eye for a year’s worth of frenetic recruiting by a modern master: Ed “The” Orgeron, who let Feldman tag along as Coach O ran through a zillion hours of tape and several reservoirs of Red Bull and coffee in his quest to restock the cabinet with talent at Ole Miss.

The book’s a meticulously researched book, but don’t mistake the precision for a lack of blood. The story’s got all the life it needs in one Ed Orgeron, who seems to be bigger in real-life than we could ever make him here in the blogosphere. We’ll just tempt with two scenes from the book that involve actual, witnessed events or conversations during a typical Orgeron recruiting process.

One: Jerrell Powe and Ed Orgeron actually squared off in Powe’s high school parking lot. Someone saw them practicing swim moves and called the school to tell them that “a huge white man and a huge black man” were wrestling in the parking lot.

Two: An actual conversation between TE coach Hugh Freeze and Ed Orgeron about a recruit who fancied Ole Miss after a visit.

Freeze: “I think he really likes us because you wrestled with him.”

Orgeron: “Shit, that son-of-a-bitch was strong. After he pinched me under the arms, it was ON.”

We can’t sell the book any more convincingly than that. We woke up at 5 a.m. the other day to read it. It’s a peek into the least understood portion of the football year, and a rousing portrait of someone truly obsessed with the process.

Buy it.

The lightning review of all that you need to know about the past, present, and immediate future of college football, written on a waterproof laptop from the warm waters of Pete Carroll’s Enchanted Gridiron Grotto. Mark Sanchez is three feet away from us eating sushi off the belly of a naked woman. This program does things right, man.

Fathoms below: that’s where turnovers will get you.

Ohio State remains ploddingly, predictably excellent, and it isn’t their fault that no one likes them for it besides the people of the Sovereign People’s Republic of Uzbuckistan. Ohio State’s excellence has transcended the interesting. Losing one game in the past two years will do that to a team, but so will going into a festive, decidedly amped Beaver Stadium and bringing the demo team with you.

If you did watch the game, skip this paragraph unless you’re a Buckeye fan who, like Georgia fans, can’t get enough masturbatory praise in this morning following a weekend of asskicking in the correct direction. The results of the game never teetered for longer than a suspenseful minute or two in any direction but Ohio State’s. Time of possession: 37 minutes, 52 seconds. This was heavyweight boxing, with efficient and impressive control from minute one. With the exception of one well-composed drive from Penn State, Ohio State reduced Penn State to a null set of football variables in a half.

The rest was cold, calculated math in motion 26 passes, 48 rushes, 453 yards of offense, and a murderous 24 first downs. They took out a deed on the game by scoring early, locking down the clock with Beanie Wells, and running out the rest in an act of asphyxiating gridiron strategy that had Woody Hayes punching out spirits in the afterlife. We were wrong about this team-they are very, very good. Perhaps not great, but certainly good enough to win a BCS game, and certainly good enough to be the champion.

That said, they could lose to Illinois, Michigan, or Wisconsin, because this is 2007, and you may not have your apples without razorblades this year no matter who your team is, trick-or-treater.

As noted on EDSBS Live, though, the worst part about your new football overlords the Ohio State Buckeyes is the medical problem created by a Tressel-dominated universe: a smitten, slobbering Brent Musburger attached firmly to Tressel’s balls. (more…)

We have a snippet of Mark Mangino wearing his triumphant velour suit he donned for Saturday’s win over the Texas A&M Aggies. We were going to add “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Baby” behind it, but Mike Patrick’s sloooooooowed-dooooooooown voice sounds better and more thematically appropriate given the imagery shown here.

Do not, under any circumstances, actually pay attention to Kansas football-not to their 10.2 ppg allowed by the defense, or to the thunderous running of Brandon McAnderson, who’s pounding the ball from Mangino’s spread-formations like a post-pubescent Quentin Griffin. Not to the fact that they remain undefeated and could, in theory at least, win the Big 12 Championship game and be cruising to the heartiest golly-jeez flyover country BCS Championship Game ever with Ohio State.

Nope…we’ll just keep talking about the tracksuit.

Join us to hear much moaning, sorrow, and feverish football discussion on EDSBS Live! tonight at 7 p.m. EST. As always, we’ll be joined by Peter Bean of Burnt Orange Nation, and we’ll be discussing a number of topics:

-Do we have to put Ohio State first in our poll? Really?

-Can we start potential Gator recruits still in their senior seasons in our secondary immediately? Does this violate NCAA bylaws?

-Is Kansas truly good, or is Texas A&M just flatlining? And where the hell do you get a velour tracksuit in Kansas colors like Mangino’s? Christo made it, we’re guessing.

-Is this Dennis Erickson’s cheery but rundown tavern we’re drinking in? And is it, in fact, home to the darkest of all dark horse national championship candidates, Arizona State?

Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.-Mark Twain.

Extreme language ahead. You are warned. (more…)

We’re going to the bar to watch the cocktail party. Enjoy and populate the thread below with your brilliant thoughts.

11:42 A.M.: Penn State wins in Gameday the sign wars, striking a decisive blow with “LOOK OUT OSU! JOE PA’S DRIVING!!!”

11:55 A.M.: Corso picks Jorvorskie Lane as his impact player. To celebrate, Lane eats Franchione and kills two birds with one stone: becoming a folk hero and procuring lunch.

12:14 P.M.: Rutgers is wearing black, and you know what that means? Marketing! Rutgers also allows their academic compliance guy to introduce the lineup. If Tennessee or Florida did this, they would be bound and gagged and making MRPHMRPHMRPH noises.

12:30 P.M.: Bob Griese is playing with a glistening wet ball in the booth. Worst. Porno. Ever.

12:37: That little mule-kick halfstep right when Steve Slaton started cutting back…it made it move. We can’t lie. That was downright arousing.

12:47: Rutgers doesn’t have the biggest athletic department budget, but we think that when your coach is holding a garbage bag over his clipboard in the rain to keep his papers dry, an expenditure must be made to kick your program over the wall into the land of greatness:

LAMINATING MACHINE WILL TAKE YOU TO MOST HAPPY LUCKY TIME BITCHES!!!

12:54: The announcers are dressed like the Three Stooges. If we were seventy, we’d be crapping our pants at this.

1:07 p.m.: Not really fair that it’s raining. Shitty weather all but gives a homefield advantage to the ‘Eers. Toss some rusty tire axles and piles of coal slag out there to complete the effect.

1:16 p.m.: JABU LOVELACE IS IN THE GAME AND FREAKING YOU LIKE YOU WANT IT TRICK!!!

1:24 p.m.: Another dropped pass for Rutgers means that when Mike Teel doesn’t suck, their receivers do. But who cares when Tebow/Perriloux roleplayer Jabu Lovelace is the sexiest, smoothing-soundingest name in all of college football? Jabu wants you close…too close.

1:42 p.m.: WVU’s up 17-3 in a slog against a flat Rutgers team, and Paul Maguire’s succeeded in derailing the broadcast on at least 12 occasions. All fear the Paulrus!

Holly’s got some free time this Saturday, in case you didn’t know.

2:08 p.m.: Holly points out that Paul Maguire should be out there in his rainslicker on the camera boom even in the rain. Many support this idea because it increases the possibility of Maguire being struck by lightning.

2:16 p.m.: Rutgers takes one stinking holding penalty and undoes the good work of an entire Ray Rice powerlifting effort where he was unstoppable. A fourth drop by Taiquan Underwood, a wide pass by Teel.

Mike Teel: 4/13, 38 yards.

2:25 p.m.: The playcall of the game, and what USF never did last week. Against the same set-an empty backfield-Rutgers blitzes the crew. USF last week had all long routes in the pattern, leaving Grothe out to dry. This week, Rodriguez calls a screen to Slaton in this situation for a 50 yard gain and eventual Slaton touchdown. 24-3 and Rutgers is spitting the bit.

2:34 p.m.: Another game just, in essence, may have gone final: Mississippi State 24, Kentucky 7. Anthony Dixon just leapt the length of a residential swimming pool for the last TD. Croom’d!

2:42 p.m.: Brad Nessler just referred to Owen showing us his “buing buing.”

2:49 p.m.: And Rutgers is pinned at the one with a rugby punt bouncing directly into the hands of a waiting Mountaineer with exactly a centimeter of green between his heels and goal line. Scarlet Knights just went from merely fucked to officially bullfucked.

2:59 p.m.: Rutgers is still playing the opening riff of “For Whom The Bell Tolls” on every 3rd down. The irony hasn’t hit them yet, has it? Even down 24-3?

The order of business for the weekend:

1. Not go to Jacksonville thanks to a massive car repair this week. Suddenly, we really do envy the Subcommandante’s sweet ride.

2. Liveblog tomorrow’s games like we need a nerd to punk a nerd. I’m bleeding Fucking A! Be here all day thanks to a robust slate of games and no wife in town to distract us with talking, socializing, or other pesky humanities.

3. Find more cheesecake. Because we need a new theme for the weekly ass. Your submissions for a theme are welcome below, though we tremble at what you may suggest. Decisions will be made in a timely manner as they always are here, meaning sometime in the next 2 to 400 business days.

Until then, we post pictures of athletes in drag for cheesecake. Participate in the democratic process, or suffer more pictures of Darren McFadden in dresses.

Enjoy your weekend! And HUBBA HUBBA check out the lady on the left!

There’s your damn cheesecake.

The Viewer’s Guide to this Weekend

Lonely on Friday? Ian will keep you warm, baby.

FRIDAY, BECAUSE FOOTBALL MAKES THE LONELY GO AWAY.

BOISE STATE at FRESNO STATE (9:00 • ESPN2)

America’s next great team-Fresno State-attempts WAC greatness by hosting Boise State. Both teams run the daylights out of the ball, but Boise’s hyper-efficient Taylor Tharp should be the difference, as he leads the conference in passing efficiency and has Ian Johnson pounding away for play-action protection. Pat Hill’s mustache is not pleased, but has not been during Fresno’s thwarted career in the WAC versus Boise State: they’ve lost five to only one win over the past six years versus the Broncos.

SATURDAY – EARLY AFTERNOON: THINK ABOUT GETTING FIREWOOD, CLEAR SQUIRRELS OUT OF FIREPLACE.

Appetizer: WEST VIRGINIA at RUTGERS(12:00 • ABC)

Rutgers still claims Mike Teel at quarterback, who will be the gentleman in red attempting not to mess up Rutgers’ pounding, Ray Rice-first-dibs offense on Saturday versus West Fuckin’ Virginia. Teel is ‘leet” spelled backwards, an appropriate inversion of the name since Teel remains the chief liability of the Rutgers offense. (Think of him as Anthony Morelli with lower television ratings.) Even in what we remembered to be a good performance in the USF game, Teel was still only 11/29 for 179 yards-and, to be fair, 2 TDs and no picks.

If he enjoyed this kind of “success” against USF’s cover 2, he’ll be drooling at WVU’s 3-3-5 that makes up for its gaping holes by scaring the hell out of qbs with its unpredictable drops into coverage and oddly-angled blitzes. And we mean not that good, Pavlovian hunger-drool, but the catatonic drool of a couch-bound stoner.

Even if Rutgers wins, the passing won’t be pretty. (more…)

We’ll just summarize every Georgia fan’s retort to anything ever said during the current streak of Gator dominance of the Georgia football game:

Jean shorts Robert Edwards still leading series Lindsay Scott Buck Belue Spurrier gay mullet!

With that out of the way, we re-present Reggie Nelson scaring Mohammed Massaquoi onto the ground. Sit, Mo, sit! Good dog.