Happy new year to you all, and please be safe on your drunk gallivanting tonight. We’ll be around tomorrow both here and at the SN, so feel free to drag your hung-over ass over to either spot and have a sit. (SN-more informative and factual, EDSBS more fart joke and “hey, look at his hair!” based.)
Thanks to all for a relentless 2007. To the good things in life! Champagne, football…and, er, Aussie Rules football.
Skol!
Hangover at recovery level four. Thank you, sweet turkey sandwich, savior of foul stomach.
4:15 p.m. Damn you, Manos Hands of Fate. First you destroy Shawn Carney’s knee, then you make it close for the Falcons, who end up getting the fidooskie from Cal anyway. The only redemption could be seeing FSU fuck up their first punt and then go down to Kentucky…
…and Manos, we apologize. You take and you give with equanimity. 7-0, Kentucky.
4:57 p.m.: Fatigue’s kicking in with the “Here Come the Bells” guitar wank they play in the commercial breaks. Get Dragonforce to update it and we’ll be on board, especially since it’ll have eight thousand triplets in it and eight guitar solos in eight seconds.
5:05 p.m.: FIRE!!! SOMEONE HELP ME!!!
Matt Grothe: Coming! (Pours can of gas on brush fire, immolates entire neighborhood.)
USF’s defense needed some form of assistance from the Bulls offense. Grothe throws a pick six to effectively end the Sun Bowl. Because he is Matt Grothe, and when he is good, he is very, very good, and when he is bad you find yourself clutching a knife in your stomach and pleading WHYYYYYYYY? directly to the camera.
5:10 p.m.: Make that a can of gas and a topper of napalm. Grothe throws another pick on the next series.
5:28 p.m.: Drew Weatherford’s career in visual portmanteau-he is the man, and opposing defenses are the big woman in bike pants.
5:46 p.m.: Bobby Bowden’s putting on the headset! For a failed goal-line play! My god, this would be savory if Andre Woodson hadn’t had an aneurysm and thrown a pick six on the very next play. Again: Manos, you’re a fickle B-movie god.
6:10 p.m.: Bowden says the excessive celebration call against FSU “irritates the crap out of him.” Music City Bowl gold, mes amis.
6:17 p.m: The following was actually just said on ESPN’s halftime show:
Rece Davis, talking about Mark May: Cut his mike!
Lou Holtz: Cut his throat!
…
…
…
Lou, you just fricasseed our brains.
6:53: Andre Woodson is playing like Art Schlicter with a pinkie on the line, and yet Kentucky is still up 21-14.
Nursing a lingering hangover from the Independence Bowl, we present today’s liveblog, brought to you by LSUFreek’s very important message on the importance of proper safety procedures while blogging.
12:28: AAAIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHH Dan Fouts in HD not good! Your set memes are Cal attempting to overcome a peanut-loaded sewer trout of a season, redemption, suspensions of players; Air Force to keep momentum from “surprisingly good” season.
And they have smooth luvah Jason Kidd introducing the Cal players! Don’t kill mommy, Cal! Please!
12:50: Air Force has a goddamn general introduce the lineups while flying a goddamn awesome F-18. The only thing cooler would be if he fired a missile into a T-54 at the end that was painted in Cal colors.
We credit this for Air Force’s dominating first drive.
1:10: Cal looks like they were playing along last night during the Independence Bowl Drinking game. They’re playing rock paper scissors and losing badly.
1:19: Cal looks like they’ve been replaced with the NPCs from a poorly rendered video game: the sort who stand around and wait for you to fire a rocket launcher into their balls in between repeating canned dialogue like “What was that?” and “I’m scared!”
Air Force 21, Cal 0. Wizard!
1:42: Kevin Riley comes in, and suddenly you can spell fecal without Cal. Where the hell has Riley been? Dan Fouts is singing “Centerfield,” one of the songs they play in our version of Robot Hell along with “Hotel California” and “Butterfly Kisses.” Stop, Hairface. Please stop. 21-14 and Cal’s awake.
2:12: Subtract Chan Gailey from the equation, and Tech’s allergy to points disappears! Up 7-0 thanks to beautiful pass by Taylor Bennett and yes we just typed that. Boise’s commercials look awesome, btw: all rock climbing, mountain biking, and various activities you really loved to do when you had free time and knees.
2:35: The Sun Bowl in El Paso really has the best setting: a cross between a desolate Halo map and Thunderdome. Oregon’s got early jazz here as they refuse to let USF’s offense do anything. They’re also giving Justin Roeper simple tasks at qb, and he’s doing splendidly thus far.
2:53: Air Force went to Les Miles’ Balls Emporium before the game, converting fourth down on an option play to keep catchfire Cal off the field. Chad Hall is 5′ 8″ of pure badass: he catches, he runs, he flies jets fifty feet off the ground. We need to walk to the liquor store-champagne must go with this campaign.
Ooohhhh…Carney’s knee just bent in an unholy, gorge-rise kind of way. He’s done for the day, year, whatever. Dan Fouts is telling us not to look and we’re still looking because we’re evil like that.
Goddamn, that is horrible.
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Tears. You wanna watch some people unravel at the end of the game, but in two completely different ways? Then watch the last five minutes of last night’s Fiesta Bowl. West Virginia, clearly boiling with unspent aggression and frustration coming into this game, puts on the biggest display of public emotion on record, delighting middle-school guidance counselors everywhere with their ability to healthily express love for each other. Bill Stewart’s crying, everyone’s hugging, and Owen Schmitt starts to talk about his team, his state, and his home and just completely and gloriously loses his shit. You might laugh at a huge man with a mohawk and blood on his face, but we don’t, both out of fear that he’ll hurt us and out of pure emotion. WVU’s contents were under pressure, but 350 yards rushing on Oklahoma and a 20 point defeat of a team favored by a TD in the Fiesta Bowl represent the textbook way to vent.
The Sooners broke up on re-entry last night: following an onside attempt that went awry and ended up in WVU’s hands, the Sooners blew themselves apart in a flurry of penalties and poor blocking. Despite giving thirty to forty pounds to Oklahoma’s offensive line, the Mountaineers and manbeast Johnny “Yeah, that’s my fucking name what about it?” Dingle rounded the corner on almost every play and nullified Sam Bradford. The disappearance of the OU run game may be the greatest mystery in this game, along with the question of exactly where Matt Versgasian saw a runaway beer truck hit a gaping hole on a fullback dive for 57 yards. If you didn’t watch the game, you can always play along with a shameless plug and check out the two minute summaries we have over at the Sporting Blog. (Cha-ching! Annoying cash sound!) You can also note that even with the introduction of a national officiating coordinator, officials in last night’s game missed textbook holds by Oklahoma linemen all night, along with chop-blocks on Johnny Dingle. Auburn does not teach chop-blocking, and waterboarding is an exfoliation treatment. The Wiz points us to the second highly public instance of Auburn chop-blocking someone into injury. Tommy Tuberville doesn’t tolerate chop-blocking. HE SIMPLY ADORES IT. He’s a man, just like his son. Do not let the Insight Bowl 2007 slip into oblivion without noting this item from the Stillwater NewsPress. While players and coaches were milling around on the field following the game but before the trophy presentation, Ray Gundy, the father of Oklahoma State coach Mike Gundy, was walking around with one of Coach Gundy’s young sons on his hip. He came over to a group of media members and unleashed a profanity-laced tirade at one male columnist that concluded with, “Print that in your f****** paper!” Well, it’ll have more asterisks than Barry Bonds’ bio, but if you insist, sir. (HT: RLC) |
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We’re out of time for the other two bowl previews, but we do have an exciting offer: Peter Bean will join us at 7:50 p.m. on Sunday on a very special edition of EDSBS Live: The Independence Bowl Drinking Game.
It’ll be just like that.
We will have the show for the first half only to preserve our livers and the shreds of dignity we have left. Drinks will be taken for the following, but are not limited to:
-Bob Davie uses of the word “footBAW”
-Bob Davie uses the word “YOUUUUGE”
-A shot each time the Hawkins “DIVISION ONE FOOTBALLL” rant is mentioned.
-A sip each time the corporate sponsor is used.
-Sip for scenic shots of Shreveport. Double if a casino is shown, or if the shot is not actually scenic at all.
-A shot if John Parker Wilson throws a pick six. We know that by this rule, we’re drinking at least one shot.
-Sip for any mention of Bama’s repeat visit to Shreveport
-Sip for three and outs. We’re gonna be HAMMERED on this one.
Leave any other suggestions below. Enjoy the weekend, which is loaded with football. Pun possibly intended.
See you Sunday night.
Texas A&M has apologized for the remarks of an A&M cheerleader that Joe Paterno “needs a casket,” which of course got people all hopped up on rageahol and demanding apologies and kowtows and all of the thing courtesy junkies demand when someone has pissed them off, regardless of what the subject of the remarks. (Our editorial stance is that those people need to get fucked in the ear by a water buffalo. )
The subject himself-Paterno-seemed less than worried about the comments:
“I think everybody has to take things with a grain of salt,” Paterno said. “Some young guy went up there, trying to be funny. Maybe he’s accurate, I don’t know.”
Again, it makes you want to hug Joe Pa. You’d probably smell like good old man afterwards, all aftershave and hair pomade. Not that bad baby food and adult diaper old man smell, either. JoePa’s got his shit together, so to speak.
Name: The Champs Sports Bowl. That place in the mall where you can buy tight fitteds, son, and 150 dollar athletic shoes you can’t run in, son. OOO-WEEE! And them brushed/gold pom-poms, son! Prospicacious street goods, son!
Motto: “Real eroticism begins with the introduction of a third party.” The quote from the end of Emanuelle is the best explanation why Orlando needed a third second bowl game: because they’ve got a stadium, little to do with it, a zillion hotel rooms, a nice airport, good weather, and have watched and learned from the lessons of Emanuelle by adding a third partner into the mix with the city and the Capital One Bowl.
Fake Bowl? No, as in backed by deep-pocketed mall retailer that sells the streetest pom-poms evah.
Intrusive Corporate Sponsor: Champs Sports, “where sports lives.” We thought sport lived in our glowing green sweat and in Gatorade, so this could be the subject of some direly needed academic research.
Tradition rating: Around since 1990, back when we were glued to Dial MTV and learned that life will rip even the most tender and vulnerable things from your grasp and squash them to blood pudding in a hydraulic vise. Like Jim Henson, dammit.
Just go to the fucking doctor next time! Sobbing…
Setup: A Bangalore casting call: anyone who’s around and available, evidently. The Big 10, Big 12, ACC, and Big East, and ACC have all made appearances in the history of the bowl, meaning they just want someone to hold them and love them and just show up, okay? A woman has low standards at this point in life. And Boston College, you’re not showing up, only selling 6,000 or so of their 12,000 ticket allotment, meaning you’ll be Boise-bound and out of this woman’s arms, you emotionally unavailable bastards!
Why you should watch despite this being the Champs Sports Bowl and 5:00 on a Friday: For Matt Ryan, who being from New England and white instantly had horrific nicknames like “Matty Ice” thrown on him along with Tom Brady/Ted Williams/Sports Messiah aura. Luckily no one in New England cares enough about college football to destroy his young psyche with an intolerable level of celebrity, so he’s doing fine and alternately saving his team’s collective ass (as in the last second TD in the Virginia Tech game) and throwing them into the fire. Boston will start off throwing heavily and then throw even more if they feel threatened, either by a Michigan State lead or a particularly threatening security guard. The fewest attempts for BC this year passing has been 32; Ryan’s gone over 40 ten times.
Michigan State has Jehuu Caulcrick, Javon Ringer, and guy who throws the ball. That’s all you need to know: Ringer’s the speed guy, Caulcrick is a bus-big back for the power downs, and sometimes they let Brian Hoyer throw the ball. If he’s approaching 30 attempts, that ain’t good for Michigan State. Their game plan will be squat-ball all the way, holding the ball forever and keeping it out of the hands of Matt Ryan. Boston College’s run defense was the best in the nation. This may not be a good idea.
On defense, it would have been great fun watching Jonal Saint-Dic try to disrupt Ryan because Ryan’s taken a good beating this year despite his productivity and glossy numbers. Unfortunately, Michigan State will be Saint-Dic-less due to Saint-Dic’s sprained cerebrum and academic ineligibilty. We imagine BC wins this one in as sluggish a fashion as a team that throws the ball 40 times a game can, and then begins the fun of trying to replace someone who took every snap under center. Matty Ice! It’s better than Matty Light! Or Matty Chill. That stuff tastes like iguana piss in a bottle.
Nobody knows distraction like we do, a talent partially culpable for the slowness of our bowl previews. We’ll have the Champs and the Emerald on the way, done with the intensity of at least five trained macaques. In the meantime…
Find out why you crave Morehead (State) and the Shockers (Wichita State) over at Thirty Five Seconds.
And…
Our column over at the Sporting News establishes both quantitatively and qualitatively that the Independence Bowl is the biggest and worst of the bad bowls.
You think your bowl game’s entertainment sucks ass wrinkles? Not when they’re bringing Eddie Money to the party!
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22 yards rushing. That’s what ultimately doomed Arizona State in Texas’s 52-34 victory in the Holiday Bowl, stepson totally trying to grab the ball off the field from the sideline aside. (Here’s Chris Jesse’s MySpace page as evidence of his existence, and his intelligence in changing it to a private page sometime between last night and the present.)
No rushing meant no play-action, and no play-action meant Rudy Carpenter getting sacked 4 times, sailing balls all night, and getting the Texas bench taunt “RUUUUUUU-DEEEE, RUUUUUUUU-DEEEE” in the fourth quarter, expertly caught by ESPN’s mikes. Jamaal Charles gets 27 carries for 161 and 2 TDs, Colt McCoy And, yes, Mack Brown’s stepson tried to grab a live ball and subsequently blew referee Penn Wagers’ mind. Darren McFadden may have lost his eligibility for the senior season he’ll spend in the NFL, so no big deal. He may have also lost his eligibility for the bowl game; deal. The cause of the possible ineligibility is a new Cadillac Escalade, how it was purchased, and whether said purchase tramps on the collection of logical inconsistencies, tomfooleries, and elaborately woven skeins of bullshit that are the NCAA’s rules regarding college athletes. FOX continues its slow demolition of the competitive American sports market with its announcement of sold-out ad space for all four BCS games. Ad rates rose 18% to around a million dollars for a 30 second ad, mercifully pricing out the Yella Wood ads and Yamaha ATV spots that are the bane of an SEC fan’s existence. Muchas gracias, invisible hand. Muchas. Conspiracy theories are for the paranoid and uniformed so gimmeh gimmeh The wackazoid, possibly parallel universe scenario of the day: Bill Parcells can’t get Romeo Crennell (another rumor) to come to Miami to be his coach, so he dips into the loyal toady bag and pulls out Charlie Weis. All parties come out happy: Notre Dame tastefully unloads a coach with a 300 year contract extension, Miami gets rid of Cam Cameron, Parcells gets someone he knows and feels comfortable with, and Weis and Parcells get hot pressed sandwiches with cheese and double meat as stipulated in their contracts. It’s ripped straight from the pages of college/pro football fanfic, but with some claim to realism and no love scenes. Thank God, no love scenes. That vomit won’t come out of your keyboard. Get a new one. You needed one anyway. West Virginia is suing Rich Rodriguez to recover the buyout, tastefully suing their former coach of seven years and an alum in Rich Rodriguez for $4 million for leaving the job for Michigan without formally notifying them. Ed Pastilong, publicly upbraided by a prominent WVU booster already for allegedly dragging heels on promises to Rodriguez, just upped his asshole rating in their eyes by exponential numbers. And because it’s Friday, you need a reminder of how crucial dragon and wizard-based metal is to our culture, and that yes, someone made the impossible song in GH3 on purpose. |
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Orson Swindle and Stranko Montana are two men pushing thirty who should know better than to run a college football blog, but evidently don't. Both graduated from the University of Florida, and both agree that college football is far too important to be left to the professionals.
Comments? Questions? Long strings of profanities directed at something we said? Please send your comments to harumphharumph -a- yahoo -dot- com. Please direct all tailgating photos and stories to edsbsfans -a- gmail -dot- com.
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