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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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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