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.