Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol. XXXVIII

Salvete, omnes! Let's all gather 'round and congratulate me for not making a sports-related post in quite some time. This one isn't really one either, because it's all Latin-centric, or something.

Anyway, last night--technically--the college football season got underway. A handful of teams got to play in the opener, but most of the action unfolds tomorrow, which is why I consider it the real start to college football season. At least for my college football tastes, that is.

While my undergrad wasn't exactly known as a powerhouse, I went to grad school at one of those places that drips with history, tradition, national championships and Heisman trophy winners. I mean, hell, there's been two movies made about Notre Dame football, both of which are at least somewhat famous. Plus, we have that sweet cameo in the original Die Hard. Not to mention, goddamned Rudy helped carry the Ring of Power to Mount motherfucking Doom!

Alright, alright, I'll settle down now. Let me tell you about the worst football game I ever went to. ND was playing USC my first year in grad school, and so my buddies and I decided to do what all American football fans do prior to the game: get good and liquored up. And, if you're drinking, you should be eating, right? Exactly. So, the night before the game, we went to the local Meijer store. If you're unfamiliar with Meijer, they're kind of the ones who started off this whole department store/grocery hybrid model that Super Target and Megalomart have both glommed on to. Anyway, I decided to get some cheap wine for my pre-game festivities, and since I went to Notre Dame, I figured why not try the Wild Irish Rose? I settled on some godawful flavor--I don't remember what it was, but it had ginseng in it, so not only was I going to get shitfaced ugly drunk, I would be fighting cancer...and apparently erectile dysfunction.

Anyway, I started out drinking the stuff, and it wasn't that bad. In fact, I was raving about how wonderful it was. About two thirds of the way through the bottle, I decided I was getting hungry. My friend, Dr. Assy, had been cooking up some kielbasi in sauerkraut (he was from eastern Pennsylvania...that should say it all right there). My friends, let me tell you, I put some hurting on some kielbasi that day. Of course, I couldn't let the last third of a bottle of Wild Irish Rose go to waste, so I polished that off, as well.

Only...I didn't feel so good. It was just about time for us to go stumbling walking over to the stadium when the Irish rose and the kielbasi started wrestling, and the only loser in that fight was my stomach. I had to purge myself of the contents of my stomach, and then we were off for the game. And, ohmygod, the steps at Notre Dame stadium never looked so effing steep. I had to haul myself up to the top of the stadium. By halftime of the game, I was hung over. By the end of the third quarter, I wanted to be dead.

Fortunately, a rain shower swept over the stadium, soaking us all and bringing sweet, sweet relief to my pounding head. If it hadn't been for that rain, I'm convinced I wouldn't be here, telling you this story. And, to make matters better, we actually somehow managed to beat USC (I believe the final score was 23-21, ND).

Lucky for me--and the blogosphere--I survived the game. And, as the college football season gets underway tomorrow, I'll be there, yelling this for one and all to hear:

Eamus, O hibernii pugnax!
Pronounced: "Aye-ah-moose, oh hee-bare-nee-ee poog-nahx!"

Translation in the hovertext!

If you want to know how to root for your team in Latin, leave me a note in the comments and I'll do my best. If it's something easy like tigers (tigres ("tee-grace")) or Wildcats (feles feras ("fay-lace fay-ross")), it should be no problem. If your mascot happens to be a Cornhusker...I make no promises.