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THE 2020 DEMOCRATIC CANDIDATES AS COLLEGE FOOTBALL TEAMS

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POLITICS IS SPORTS! SPORTS IS POLITICS!

Wednesday night, the first ten of over two dozen Democrats vying to be the party’s presidential nominee took the stage for their first televised debate. Another ten will take the stage Thursday night, and with this crowded and unwieldy a field, it got us thinking... what’s another situation where we’ve got a broad field of mismatched competitors from all sorts of different backgrounds, competing in a hastily-designed format that won’t necessarily crown the best one?

You guessed it — college football!

I don’t think anyone’s ever tried this sort of thing before, but I thought we’d get a little wacky with things here, and decide: if each of these candidates were a college football team, who would they be? Ha! Ha! Politics are fun.

Let’s dive in!

CORY BOOKER - He’s Michigan. He’s television-friendly, an eloquent speaker who always seems to be in the mix, but still hasn’t proven himself on the big stage. I figure he’ll finish somewhere around third. Ha! Like Michigan.

BILL DE BLASIO - Stanford. He’s a coastal liberal, and he’s as tall as a tree! Also, he’s won on his home turf, but he’s not doing a thing when he tries to go national.

JAY INSLEE - I wonder if people have stopped reading by now. I have to talk about what happened that night in Bossier City. Maybe they’re just scanning the page by now, scrolling down to the comments. I’ll throw in something so they just keep scrolling. GEORGIA TECH

TULSI GABBARD - Okay, so I was down there on business. This was 2015, and I’d been sent down there to close a deal with a supplier. Well, we went out to dinner, had a few too many drinks, and we end up at the Horseshoe there. A few more drinks at the tables, and I can barely see straight. WASHINGTON STATE

TIM RYAN - The sales guys I was there with, they both decide they’re off to a strip club. Well, I don’t want to get in trouble back home, so I mumble some excuse about needing to get back to the hotel. They head off, and I’m alone at the blackjack table. A stranger sits down next to me. “You know how to play, son?” Guy looks like Sam Elliott, but not in a nice way. I’ve got a bad feeling, but I’ve also got about ten shots of Jack Daniels in me. “Of course I do.” “Then I can trust you won’t foul me up here, son.” MIAMI OF OHIO? TIM RYAN’S FROM OHIO AND MEANINGLESS, JUST LIKE THE REDHAWKS

ELIZABETH WARREN - Anyways, I shrug him off. There’s plenty of weird assholes in casinos, he’s not the first and he won’t be the last. Dealer starts, I’ve got a 4 and 7. Perfect. I hit. 21. He splits eights, then pulls an ace and a king. Dealer’s got 16. Dealer hits and busts. “See, son, I knew we could work together.” I half-smile at him, just to shut him up. CLEMSON

BETO O’ROURKE - Next hand, I draw a pair of nines. My head is spinning. What was that? Split those? I’ll split those. Right? Shit, I can’t remember now. I draw an ace and a queen. Ha! Two winning hands. Ol’ Sam’s got a four and five. He hits, gets an eight. Dealer’s got 16, draws a five. Dealer wins. “Dammit, son, that’s a prick move. That queen should’ve been mine, and that eight could’ve busted him.” I decide it’s time to leave, so I cash out and stumble toward the taxi stand. It’s late, and there’s no sign of any cabs. HE’S TEXAS TECH BECAUSE HE’S PRETTY BOY BULLSHIT

JOHN DELANEY - “Son, I don’t like when people cost me money.” It’s Sam. He’s right behind me. “Oh, come on, dude, that’s gambler’s fallacy anyways. I could’ve just as easily made you money as lost it for you. It’s just a game.” Then I see it, shining in his belt, a chrome-plated revolver. “You callin’ me stupid, son?” HE’S JIM DELANY. THIS ONE ISN’T A JOKE, I CAN’T TELL THEM APART.

I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WHO THE OTHER CANDIDATES ARE. KLOBUCHAR? KLOBUCHAR. I pulled out my wallet. “Listen, buddy, I don’t want any trouble. How much did I cost you? Twenty bucks? Just take it.” I held a twenty out to him. “Son, I had two thousand on that hand.” He’s looking angry. I think of a plan. “Okay, well, I’ll tell you what. Just take my wallet.” I throw it, just past him into the gutter. He’s surprised, and turns... just enough for me to grab the gun. Two shots ring out. He falls. I run. I run as fast as I can. KEVIN WILSON ERA INDIANA.

JULIAN CASTRO - Casinos have security cameras, don’t they? I figured the police would be knocking on my hotel room door any minute, but they never came. I watched the news next morning. Nothing. I even drove by the casino. There was a bloodstain on the sidewalk, but nothing else. No police tape, nothing. I’m sure I killed a man that night, but I don’t know how I got away with it. Was he a ghost? Was I? I DUNNO PENN STATE OR SOME SHIT

Are you done scrolling? Wow, that was fun. I hope you enjoyed this, and I’m sure you read every part of it. Politics can be fun!