You now what’s Crazy? I’ll tell you what’s Crazy!
Color me biased, but If the ball is not made of pigskin, I don’t care. If the ball doesn’t spiral through the air, I don’t care. If players the size of golf carts don’t smash into each other at 20 mph, I don’t care.
If the sport doesn’t have hotties on the sideline flying into the air so their undergarments are partially exposed, I don’t care.
If there isn’t a bull, a horse, a bull dog, a Christmas Tree, or a Trojan Warrior on the side line wielding a sword in a Cardinal and Gold Jock strap, then I don’t care.
Baseball? Excuse me while I yawn and brush cob webs out of my eye sockets.
Soccer? Maybe the rest of the world knows something I don’t. Last time I checked; my passport is stamped PROPERTY OF THE U.S.A.
Bowling? call me when you get a ball without holes in it.
Swimming? Best 46.49 seconds I ever spent.
Hockey? They say it’s the fastest most exciting, most physical sport there is? If that’s the case, then why do reruns of McHales Navy get better ratings than the NHL playoffs? Because as much as you try and tell me that hockey is football on ice, it’s really just ice skating with sticks.
NASCAR? Too many cautions, too many left turns. Are these guys even athletes. Christ they sit down for 4 hours and pee in their pants at 180 mph. How cool is that?
Football my Crazy American Friend is BACK!
The NFL launches its season Sept 10th. It kicks off Thursday with the Titans at Superbowl champion Pittsburgh. It starts a four day coronation of collisions and collateral damage. I’m like a kid off his A.D.D. meds just salivating for it all to start.
And I got a little taste of what’s to come this weekend with the start of COLLEGE FOOTBALL SATURDAY.
Now I know that fall is in the air. It wasn’t the back to school shopping or the leaves turning yellow. It wasn’t the fact that I’ve all ready seen a XMAS commercial air or my wife is talking about Thanksgiving dinner preps all ready? No, I know that fall is knocking at my door because College Football is here.
Saturday Sept 5th: College football came out of the chute like a race horse looking for the inside rail at the Kentucky Derby.
ESPN Game day was in Atlanta for the Kick Off Classic. Thousands of screaming fans holding banners and throwing young women into the air.
Corso and Fowler and Herbstreit prognosticating like a house on fire. These guys are like rock stars sitting on their Home Depot set.
My juices began to bubble as the Big and Rich song; Coming to your city, whipped me into a frenzy.
Wild imagery of USC and Nittany Lions, and Bulldogs and Gators and Vols starting dancing across the screen. I got so fired up so quickly, that I felt like strapping on a cup, rushing across the yard, pulling the weed eater out of my neighbor’s arms, then kicking him in his adam’s apple.
“Not in my house!,” I would shout at the dazed man. “This is the University of Crazy, baby!”
The Game Day boys cover all the issues: Can Gator QB Tim Tebow win another Heisman? Will Michigan Wolverine Coach Rich Rodriguez survive the scandals? Will former Duke Point Guard, Greg Paulus be able to come back after four years of hoop dreams and fire TD passes? Will Notre Dame coach Charlie Weiss have a massive coronary on the sideline because he is so grossly obese?
You know the beautiful thing? Not a word about Obama Health care, or Nancy Pelosi or the CIA torturing terrorist douche bags. Not one word about kids kidnapped and forced to birth babies from sex offenders who the police should have arrested years before.
Thanks to Matt Barkley, the first ever freshman starting QB for USC, I forgot to worry about my 401K that was sitting on the toilet taking a crap.
Instead of wondering about my job status, I was wondering whether trash talking University of Tennessee Head Coach, Lane Kiffin would be able to back up all his off season insanity.
When I look through the rose-colored glasses of football: suddenly bailouts and deficits seem less toxic. Football is that warm blanket of familiarity that I can pull up to my eyes.
The pomp and pageantry of college football is easy to enjoy. The mascots and the cheer leaders and the unique stadiums with their nostalgic curiosities.
And how bout those 12 frat boys in the front row. Each drunk bastard with a letter painted on his chest. Pull back and you see it spells out: “MOM SEND MONEY.”It ain’t exactly molecular biology, but it takes some skills, right? Whoever says this next generation is not ready for the global challenge?
You want drama? Sam Bradford won the Heisman Trophy last year. He probably would have been the number one pick in pro football this year. Instead of getting 42 Million dollars, he returned for his senior season where he received a new Sooner T-shirt and some fresh eye-black. Bummer! In the 2nd Quarter Bradford drops back to pass and some BYU mastadon crushes Bradford into the turf. You could hear his shoulder AC joint go: BOIINNGG!!! Bradford withered in paid on the artificial turf wishing that the Mamoth Mormon had been on a missionary in the Dominican handing out sacks of wheat to poor children. Wonder if he wished he had taken that 42-Million?
Drama? It’s College Football. Of course there’s drama. Because what the teams can’t settle on the field, the idiots who make up the BCS will debate for 12 more weeks off of it.
Questions like: Is USC really the number four team in the country only beating San Jose State, which of course beat the University of Urinary Tract Infection, which lost to Pantie Waste State.
It’s crazy drama.
Don’t think it matters? I read a report that the University of Texas football program generates 120-Million dollars a year. 120-Million Dollars! College football has become pro football, it just doesn’t have to pay its workers.
STORY LINES?
#6 Ohio State barely escapes at home against Navy: is Ohio State really that good? 105,000 people in the Horseshoe are wondering just that. Is a highly vaunted USC Trojan team going to come in here next week and scoop our eyes out with a melon spoon? Maybe. I can’t help but wonder whether the Big Ten is just an over rated conference which gets elevated to elite status by the media each and every year. Big Ten teams prey on each other like vultures all season long, then step out of their corn-fed sanctity and get annihilated in the bowl games against non big ten opponents.
STORY LINE:
#2 Texas clobbers La-Monroe: You know the Texas Long Horns. They wear burnt orange and Bivo the steer is their gigantic, disinterested mascot. They are favored to win their conference, go undefeated and play for the national title game. Their leader is a tall lanky kid named Colt (perfect for Texas) who will probably complete 70-percent of his passes and win the Heisman Trophy.
As for the team they trounced in week one? I’ll bet, unless you de-vain shrimp for a living, you couldn’t tell me where La-Monroe is? Is it even in Louisiana, or is it in someplace called Monroe? And I’ll buy you a cup of coffee if you can tell me what the hell La-Monroe’s nickname is? I’m sure I don’t know it. I doubt the student body even knows it. They get liquored up during games and scream GO whoever!
What I do know is that Heisman front runner Colt McCoy used these no names like you use a cutting board. He placed the soft underbelly of the La-Monroe (Nickname-inserted-here) and carved open their bellies like a Salmon getting filleted in a Seattle Fish Market. It was a bar room brawl on fake grass. It is a grid iron ass whooping, where the bully kicks the crap out of the handicapped kid in the wheel chair who was minding his own business drinking Kool-Aid through a straw.
Somehow Texas survived. The Long Horns pulled the life support plug on La-Monroe, packed them in ice and shipped them out of Austin in a body bag, after a 59 -20 ass whoopin. How La.-Monroe scored 20 is beyond me. Maybe they ran the ball into the end zone during tv timeouts when Bivo was out on the field leaving behind college Football’s biggest and steamiest stink pile.
STORY LINE
#23 Notre Dame blanks Nevada. Are the Irish back? I say no. Nevada is a bunch of nobodies who are 2 credits shy of getting their Casino Black Jack certificates. In a few weeks, the Nevada players will all be serving drinks and pulling a 5 on a 16 and ruining lives and dreams of everyone who stayed on 19. But for now, they defy the odds and play football.
DRAMA
And then there’s ESPN sideline Erin Andrews. She’s back at work after a terrible off season. In case you hadn’t heard, someone put a lipstick camera in her hotel room. The culprit took intrusive pictures of the woman as she got out of the shower. The images were sent to the internet. The perpetrator is still at large, but police say they are closing in. For the sake of Ms. Andrews and citizens in general, I hope they catch the pervert, cut his scrotum off and feed it to Bivo as part of a half time gala.
So I say welcome back football. Welcome back hard hits and crazy match ups and weekends that fill my thoughts with anything but reality. I welcome the mental vacation it affords all of us.
And by the way, La-Monroe’s nickname: the WARHAWKS. From the mighty football factory known as the Sun Belt.
On Saturday afternoons, even a Warhawk can dare to dream.