I Haz a Happy

Hooray! Green Bay won the Super Bowl. Hat tip to the Steelers fans: I don't hate the Steelers, but I sure as hell did not want them to win last night. In the mean time, let's toss some cheerleaders in the air to celebrate!!!


A word, if I may, to all the Green Bay fans who still would fall on their knees and worship the fucking ground that Favre walks on and have him start this fall, eat dick. Let us never speak his name again.


To the rest of the Packers fanbase, let's not let another quarterback get bigger than the franchise, kthanxbai.

Also, I would be lying if I didn't kind of want the league to be in lock out next season that I can enjoy a Super Bowl title for two years. Selfish, I know, but in a league that prides itself on parity, I might not get to celebrate another two titles in a row. Ever.



Anyone have any word on whether Antawn Randle El has finally shut the fuck up, or is he still yapping about the only two marginally decent plays that he completed in his stellar professional career?

I Don't Hate the Steelers

But I've got two weeks to learn!

Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol. XCVI

In 1985, a great travesty was afflicted upon this nation. I am speaking, of course, of the discordant din that bled forth from our radio speakers, piercing the ears of the nation's youth, insinuating itself into their brains, and poisoning their minds.

Some people called it "The Superbowl Shuffle."

I call it "Six Minutes of Hell."

As an aside, let's not ask my wife what she calls "Six Minutes of Hell."

*ahem*

Anyway, if anyone has every been curious as to how some gangly kid from northeast Indiana could become a Green Bay Packers fan, this is it. Before this travesty of ear rape was unleashed upon the greater masses, prior to this cacophony of musical masturbation, I was fairly ambivalent toward professional football. After being constantly assaulted by this auditory pack of Dickwolves, I knew only one thing: I would, from henceforth, hate the motherfucking Chicago Bears.

Because of my location, most of my classmates climbed aboard the Bears' bandwagon that year--you know, like most Bears fans--and this song was played, over and over and over. Ad nauseam, which is Latin for "I'm going throw up if I hear that fucking 'Super Bowl Shuffle' one more time!" Just searching for it on the interwebs has incensed me in ways that I didn't think possible, or at least in ways that had slumbered deep within me since...Thursday afternoon.

And so, if you must know, gentle sportsfan, why it is that I am a Green Bay Packers fan, this is it. I knew nothing more than that I hated the Bears. In order to make that hate deliciously complete, I sought out their greatest rivals and rooted for them. The hapless Lions couldn't allow me to fully embrace my hatred; no more could the Minnesota Vikings, though I would pull for both teams against the Bears.

The logical answer to my Bears hatred was the Green Bay Packers, and this was long before Purple Voldemort poisoned the air with his camera-whoring and 5,000 season-ending interceptions. Before the Ole Gunslinger was out there, like a kid, just having fun. Before the Packers even remembered that there was a post-season. I rooted for them.

And so that's why, this weekend, this Sunday afternoon, my hatred will be focused like a finely-honed blade, focused solely against Jay-sus and his band of soft-brained miscreants, this wretched hive of scum and villany. Oh sure, it was nice to see the Packers destroy the Vikings and Purple Voldemort twice this year. It was delicious to see their season implode. It was most satisfying to see him slink off into the sunset, his tiny peezer between his legs, but all of that will be moot come Sunday afternoon. Then it will be full, unadulterated Bears hate.

And I'll be saying this. Early and often.

Futuite Ursos!
Pronounced: "Foo-too-ee-tay Oor-sohs!"


Delicious hate in the hovertext

Aside from the football team, however, bears are pretty fucking awesome.

Resume Time!

That's re-zoom-aye time, not ree-soom time. Time hasn't stopped. The sex hasn't been THAT good. Wax-flying-out-of-ears good yes, but not all-time-has-stopped-with-my-orgasm good.

It seems as though it's time for me to polish up ye olde resume because my ideal job has just come open. No, no, not Scarlett Johansson's personal Man-Bra. I'm talking more sportsy stuff and less cupping ginormous tits in my large and capable palms.

With the fallout of the NCAA doing their best to kill USC's football program, there has been a cleaning out of the athletic department at Southern California (sorry, this is the real USC, not the one with all the Cocks). This has included the athletic director who allowed the violations infractions to occur under his watch, who was given his marching orders earlier in the week. The real news is that Pat Haden has taken over as the new Athletic Director at USC.

Why is this important? Well, because Pat Haden--up until Tuesday--was one of the announcers for NBC for Notre Dame football games. And now that there's a vacancy, they should naturally look to fill that hole with ME.

Take note. There are LOTS of people who could use me to fill their holes. *ahem*

Anyway, just think about it. I do love me some Notre Dame football. And, we'll all admit that when it comes to being a Go-Getter, I'm not in any danger of having that title hung around my neck. So, here's a job where I work Saturdays for one quarter of the year and all I do is talk about football and the greatness and glory of Notre Dame. And really, since it's just home games, I only work every other Saturday for one quarter of the year. I can do that. I can probably provide some fine bits of stories about when I was a student at Notre Dame. That's got to be better than having a USC guy in the booth, right?

Plus, my voice would stretch from one end of this fine nation of ours to the other, and also overseas. Nothing could go wrong there!

If this doesn't work out, I don't know what I'll do. I think, possibly, the best job for me would to do something like what Kevin Smith does now. No, not make shitty movies, anyone can do that (see, Shyamalan, M. Night). Smith has this thing where he tours the country, stopping at college campuses and talking to the audience for a few hours about...nothing, really. Just stories and anecdotes from his life. He takes questions, he answers them in long, rambling, irreverently humorous stories.

I can do that.

I can twist damned near anything around to some strange happening during the earlier years of my life. Not only that, but I'm going to guess that college kids would really appreciate my retelling of the time I smashed my ex-fiancee's face into the shower wall while trying to have shower sex, or the time I pissed my pants while trying to get gas, or how my mom killed my dog. I'm sure any of those would be met with uproarious laughter and heavy applause and as many blow jobs from coeds as I could handle!

In the meantime, if that doesn't work out, I'll just submit my resume to NBC sports and the University of Notre Dame. And I need to brush up on the spread option wing whateverthefuck new offense ND is going to have this year.

And I should probably work on not saying "fuck" so much.

Time to Move On

I did something today that I haven't done in...a really long time. In fact, upon racking my brain for all of fifteen seconds, I couldn't think of the last time when I did this.

I didn't try to watch the beginning of the Notre Dame game.

I just couldn't bring myself to it. I worked in the yard early this afternoon, and then I went to get some food for the abbreviated week. On the ride home, I turned the radio on and discovered that ND kicked at 2:30 instead of 3:30 like I thought (you know, like they've done all season). And then when I got home, I put away the groceries and went back outside with the kids. I cleaned up my mess, swept off the driveway, and then we cooked some chicken. Finally, the chicken was done and it was too cold to stay outside, so we came in, about halfway through the third quarter.

I then sat down and watched the rest of what was the perfect topper for this farce of a season. I wish I could say I was upset at the outcome (Connecticut won in double overtime, 33-27), but instead I sat there and watched the final drive with quiet resignation. A season that had me so geeked and excited has turned to sadness and the quiet acceptance of yet another underpreformance. Pretty much the hallmark of Charlie Weis' tenure as the head coach of Notre Dame football.

Anyway...

I did a good deed today. I only say this because it's a bit unusual for me. I went to Target to get the groceries (as I mentioned earlier) and when I loaded them and the kids into the car, a woman approached me and asked if I could give her a ride to the north side of town. She gave me some sad story about having to buy a shirt and that she didn't have money for bus fare and she didn't want to walk.

And as my mind churned over all the excuses I could give her as to why I couldn't give her a ride, in my mind's eye I saw her walking up the rather busy road that takes you to Duke's stadia (football and basketball). And then I thought of my wife's friend Eric who was killed a month and a half ago trying to cross a busy road, and all I could see was this young woman lying in the middle of one of the roads with her life cut tragically, violently short as well. My heart broke and I relented.

Well, she was very nice. She talked to my kids, she told me I had a very nice car, that I seemed like a very nice person, that she wouldn't have asked but she knew I was a good person because of the way I acted with my kids. It all made me feel good...in a Becky the Usurper sort of way. I took her to her place of work and let her out and wished her a Happy Thanksgiving. She smiled and thanked me and wished me the same.


I won't lie. It was probably a very irresponsible thing to do, and I was a little nervous to do it. But, when she got to work safely and, more importantly, my kids and I left the parking lot, I felt a lot better.

And then I kind of hated myself for assuming she was going to slit my throat while we were driving.

Oh well. I'm alive and she's alive and my conscience is a whole lot lighter because I actually helped someone out who was in need of some assistance. It's a far cry from Batman, but then I'm also not the head of a mutli-billion dollar industry.

Now, on to more important issues: anyone know if the tuna up there can coach football?

Done

My only question is this? When filing for unemployment, will his enormous ego also be qualified to collect benefits?

Football Sucks

Not only did Notre Dame lay a tremendous terd--which isn't too difficult when you're completely outplayed and outcoached--on the field yesterday--again--but then Green Bay allowed an otherwise winless Tampa Bay to beat them.

Seriously? I thought Aaron Rogers was the second coming of Roger Staubach (see how I tip the hat to Navy...again?), and that was why we had to push...Him...out of Green Bay in order to bring in Aaron Rogers. For this? How craptacular.

And I haven't worn any green over the past two days. How the hell could this be happening? Maybe it isn't me and my wardrobe, after all. Maybe I just root for shitty teams.

Anyway, I was busy mowing so I couldn't watch the game. Of course, it's not like we could watch the game down here in Patriot country. What? Wait a minute. This isn't Boston? Then why do we keep getting the Patriots on the regional broadcasts?

Apparently, I should have mowed yesterday, too, so that I could miss THAT travesty. In honor of Notre Dame's incredibly underwhelming performance against Navy, I thought I'd revisit a little something I wrote last year after Notre Dame's impressively underwhelming performance against Syracuse.

As for the writing, which I usually feature in these weekend posts, I actually did make some progress this weekend. I'm still wrapping up the scene at the Oracle of Delphi. This could be the most I've ever invested in research for a book, but I wanted to get the pomp and ceremony surrounding the visit to the Oracle, as well as her pronouncements of prophecy and advise, correct. It involved a lot more killing of sheep than I had originally envisioned, and fortunately I've found a few things that described the interior of the temple where she sat upon her tripod and raved madly while slowly being poisoned by the noxious fumes wafting up around her handed down her advice. I'm actually pretty happy with how the scene played out and how the king took the news (hint: not well), so I should be able to move on into the next phase of the story, which involves the interplay of the gods with humanity and the birth of our hero.

Now...if only the Oracle could tell us who a good pick would be for the next football coach at Notre Dame...

8294 / 100000 words. 8% done!

A Flagon of Ale and Forgetfulness, Please

I know everybody loves sports posts and because there are just so few blogs out there in cyberspace dedicated to sports, I thought I'd do a quick little one here on a Saturday. I mean, seriously...no one has an opinion or seven million on sports in this country?

Anyway, this little gem comes from The House Rock Built, which is a Notre Dame football blog. It's appropriate for today, since today is the day Notre Dame and Navy square off in their annual tilt. So, enjoy the video.

Delete the Wikipedia page...

There's a bunch more over at The House Rock Built. If you're a Notre Dame fan, you'll appreciate them all. If you're not, I'd still recommend the video from the week after ND lost to USC, mostly because we've all been sad clowns and tried to forget our misery via mini candy bars before. Plus, the music on the video is R.E.M.

And, since it's Navy weekend, that usually means that stupid ass college football fans start bitching about how Notre Dame is scheduling weak service academy teams in order to pad their BCS resume. Most of these dipshits are ACC fans, so they wouldn't know a football team if it slapped them in the face. First of all, how is this different from the one or two Division I-AA schools that you schedule every year in order to pad your numbers just to make it to a bowl game? Oh, that's right, Navy is Division I-A. My apologies to the USNA.

Second, Notre Dame and Navy have a long history together. During WWII, a sort of perfect storm erupted over South Bend, IN. Young men (Notre Dame was not co-ed at that point) were being sent off to Europe and the Pacific to fight our enemies and protect our shores and defending our allies from tyranny and totalitarianism. This meant fewer students were on campus, and the lack of students meant a lack of funds, putting a huge financial burden on the school.

Now, as the branches of the military were swelling with more and more recruits and enlistees, there was a pressing need to train officers to command these men in the course of battle. Notre Dame's president, Fr. Hugh O'Donnell, seeing this as, perhaps, a way of solving the cash crunch, opened Notre Dame's doors to serve as an officer training school. He first approached the army, who politely declined. However, Admiral Chester Nimitz liked the idea and immediately took Fr. O'Donnell up on the offer. Notre Dame then became a training facility for officers in the US Navy. The cash crunch was solved a the school and the navy got to train their soldiers. Both parties were happy.

Nimitz (who has a street named after him in South Bend...I used to live off it) and O'Donnell then agreed that Notre Dame and Navy should play football every year. O'Donnell promised that Notre Dame would always keep a spot open for Navy on the football schedule. Sixty-three years later, and we're still upholding that promise (the current series is scheduled until at least 2016, and will be renewed again when it's time). Yes, the luster has come off the football program at Navy, however it is still a rivalry game. Not so much like the hated rivals of Michigan and USC, but a rivalry borne of mutual respect and friendship. Do the two schools want to beat each other to a pulp during each game? Absolutely. But after the game is over, we shake hands, joke a little bit, congratulate one another on a hard-fought game, and promise to see one another next year.

So, to cocksuckers like John Feinstein, who whines about how Notre Dame is a bully for scheduling an overmatched Navy team every year, you can just shut up, eat dick, and maybe--just maybe--take a little time out of your daily need to make up for your tiny dick and have a little respect for a time-honored traditional football game between two friendly rivals.

Alright, Irish. Let's go! Beat Navy! Make it 45 in a row because, as we saw above, 2007 never happened!

Also a little note. Monday will mark one of those really rare occurrences in the universe: I will actually be rooting against Indiana basketball. Why? Because my alma mater will be playing them in an exhibition game, that's why. Do I expect the purple pumas of St. Joseph's College to beat Indiana? No. But then again, no one expected LeMoyne to beat Syracuse, either.

Go Pumas! Beat Hoosiers!

Is There Room for One More on the Bandwagon?

Hey, I hear there's some kind of big football game tonight...Liverpool vs. Chelsea. It's the Beatles vs Bill Clinton's daughter???

Okay, okay...I know it's the Super Bowl--and besides, that game was played last night--and all week long, you've all been like "Indefatigable One, now that both your favorite college basketball teams suck ass, who are you rooting for in the Big Game?"
I've thought about it...some. Maybe. Here's a secret about yours truly: I played Dragon Quest VIII last year instead of watching the Giants upset the Patriots. Part of it was because I was so pissed that Green Bay wasn't in the game that I avoided it. Better to leave the dagger hanging in the wound rather than twisting it around, know what I'm saying? The other reason was that I really had no interest in either team.

Same goes for tonight, but since you people are threatening to rouse some rabble, I figured I'd make a choice. So, I'm pulling for Arizona.

What? Didn't I root for Pittsburgh when they played Seattle? Yes, yes I did. I think Pittsburgh is a fine organization and that Mike Tomlin is a fantastic coach. I'm a little jealous that he is in Pittsburgh and not Green Bay--oh sure, he was never a candidate for the job, but a fellow can dream, right?

Yes, I realize that Arizona employs Matt Leinart, he who crushed my dreams in 2003 when he was illegally pushed into the endzone and all. However, I do root for the underdogs every so often (unless they beat my favorite team in order to get to the Super Bowl--screw you, Eli Manning), so I figure why not throw my fanship behind the Cardinals, who haven't won a championship since they were in Chicago in 1947. Wait...a team from Chicago that hasn't won a championship in forever? Perish the thought.

Anyway, the real reason why I'm rooting for Arizona over Pittsburgh is simple: Arizona has more former Notre Dame players on their roster (2 to 0) than does Pittsburgh. It's that simple. Plus, Mathdude--professed lover of the Cardinals, best team ever...yeah, yeah, yeah--is one of my blog followers and Beckeye--the only person who regularly comments that is a Steelers fan (that I know of)--isn't. Yep. I'm complicated like that.

There's a term for people like me. What is it? Oh, right. Whore.

Revenge of the AD

The main doors to the Notre Dame football offices open, bathing the darkened internal hallway with bright, white light from outside. A cowled figure is silhouetted against the light streaming in from outside as he walks boldly, confidently down the hallway. Two assistants approach, barring the way. With a wave of his hand, the cowled figure pushes the assistants to the side and continues on his path.

Out of the gloom appears three time Heisman winner and current quarterbacks coach Ron Powlus. Powlus utters something that the cowled figure ignores. Pushing past Powlus, the figure continues on, causing Powlus to scurry behind him. Guttural noises continue to issue forth from the Quarterbacks Coach, until finally the figure stops and looks toward Powlus.

"I must speak with Charlie," the figure says.

Powlus stops, utters something, and shakes his head. The cowled figure raises his hand.

"You will take me to Charlie now," the figure says.

"I will take you to Charlie now," Powlus says, turning and leading the way down the hallway.

"You serve your master well."

"I serve my master well," Powlus responds.

"And you will be rewarded."

Powlus leads the figure into the head coach's office. Charlie is asleep at his desk before a flickering television revealing an endless loop of Tom Brady highlight films. Jimmy Clausen is on the ground before him, chained to Charlie's desk, wearing a slave's outfit. Former Notre Dame head coach and current homer Lou Holtz is standing behind Charlie.

"At last, Master Swarbrick is here to rescue us!" Holtz sputters loudly.

Powlus slinks up beside the dozing head coach and touches him lightly on the cheek.

"Master," he says, causing the head coach to jump. Powlus motions toward the cowled figure now standing before Charlie. "Jack Swarbrick, Athletic Director," Powlus says, introducing the cowled figure swathed in black.

"I told you not to allow him!" Charlie bellows, swiping at Powlus. Powlus ducks and motions to throw the ball four rows deep into the stands.

"I must be allowed to speak," Swarbrick says, stepping forward. Powlus, with a dazed look in his eye, turns to Charlie.

"He must be allowed to speak."

Charlie roars again, smacking Powlus, sending him sprawling on the ground. Powlus whines about a late hit, but slinks off into the shadows.

"You weak minded fool! He's using an old athletic director mind trick on you!" Charlie roars.

Swarbrick stares intently at Charlie. "You will return control of the program to me."

"Your mind tricks will not work on me, boy!"

"Nevertheless, I am going to take the program and its friends: Touchdown Jesus, Notre Dame Stadium, the pride and tradition of the nation's second most winningest program! You can either profit by this...or be destroyed. It's your choice, but I warn you, do not underestimate my powers."

Charlie laughs, loud and mean. Holtz pops up, waving his arms meagerly behind Charlie.

"There will be no bargain!" Charlie bellows.

"Master Swarbrick, watch out, you're standing on..." Holtz begins, but is cut off as the floor falls away below Master Swarbrick. He reaches out to try and steady himself, but his hands grab John Latina, the Offensive Line Coach for Notre Dame.

Swarbrick is dumped into a chamber inhabited by the hulking ghost of Knute Rockne. A small scuffle ensues in which Latina is swallowed whole by Rockne's ghost. Swarbrick appeases the ghost with a cigar and a shot of whiskey and promises to set right what once went wrong. Rockne fades into the background. Rob Ianello, draped in banners commemorating Notre Dame's 11 National Championships over his shoulder, comes in and whimpers at the missing ghost. Corwin Brown and Jon Tenuta--Notre Dame's co-defensive co-ordinators--issue into the room, grabbing Swarbrick and pulling him from the dungeon.

"Bring me the honor and tradition of this once fine program!" Charlie bellows. "Bring me Tyrone Willingham, so that I can use him as a scapegoat once more."

The scene shifts to the Grotto at Notre Dame. Charlie is sitting on his golf cart. Powlus stands at his left hand side, Holtz to his right. Clausen is still chained to Charlie. Swarbrick stands before them, along with Touchdown Jesus, Fair Catch Corby and We're Number 1 Moses. Holtz steps forward.

"Oh dear," he sputters, "His High Exaltedness, Charlie the Robot Genius, has decreed that you are to be terminated immediately. You will therefore be cast into the Grotto, where you will slowly burn over a thousand years with the hundreds of candles that people light on football saturdays."

"You should have bargained, Charlie," Swarbrick says, a bit cocky. "That's the last mistake you'll ever make."

Charlie laughs and points toward the Grotto. "Put him in!"

Swarbrick jumps, but suddenly grabs onto the ledge over the Grotto and hurls himself into the air, spinning, and catching a golden helmet from midair. A host of Charlie Apologists issue forth from behind the head coach, but are quickly knocked into the grotto by Swarbrick's mastery with the golden helmet. Bill Belichick steps forward, raises his hand to shoot Swarbrick, hesitates, and then turns and fades back into the chaos, returning to the NFL.

In the chaos, Jimmy Clausen suddenly heaves on the chain, looping it around Charlie's massive throat and pulling it tight. Charlie grabs at the chain and tries to pull it away from his throat, but Clausen is too strong. Finally, Charlie's eyes goggle and he slumps forward, causing the golf cart to lurch. Swarbrick smashes the chain with his helmet, and Clausen is freed. The golf cart continues to move forward until it topples into the Grotto, flipping end over end and landing with a meaty thud at the bottom. Clausen, Holtz and Swarbrick stand on the edge of the Grotto, triumphantly looking down into the Grotto.

"Come on, let's go," Swarbrick says, "And don't forget the history and winning tradition." Swarbrick begins to walk away.

"Where are we going?" Clausen asks.

"To find a new coach. I don't care if we have to resurrect Knute Rockne himself, we're finally going to find the man to fix this broken program." He hesitates, looking at Holtz, who is beaming. "And who isn't ancient."

Looking hurt, Holtz's face falls. "When 800 years old you reach, look as good, you will not, hmmm?"

Laughing, Swarbrick and Clausen begin the long march back across the campus. The scene ends with the lowering sun gleaming off the Golden Dome standing proudly over Notre Dame's campus.

My Interview With Charlie

This weekend, in case you were lying under a rock, sleeping or watching a guy get coconuts dropped on his head, Notre Dame suffered an ignoble defeat at the hands of the mighty Orangemen of Syracuse. Presumably, if you were under that rock, fabricating a lifestyle in preparation for your parents' imminent arrival, you might not know that Syracuse is pretty much the worst team in Division IA football.

Amazingly, though I have very little in the way of press credentials, I was able to secure an interview with the larger-than-life head coach of the Notre Dame Fighting Irish. Stunningly, the coach was very candid in his interview, though I was a bit no-holds-barred in my questions. Thanks for the Sports Information Department at Notre Dame for getting me in with the coach, and allowing me to reprint the interview.

MJenks: Coach, a lot of fans are angry after this loss.

Weis: I'm angry, too.

MJenks: What's caused you to be so angry?

Weis: I can't see my forehead. What's your problem?

MJenks: Well, most of the fans are upset over the lack of running game, development of the offensive line, regression of the quarterback, repeated failures by the defense to stop one of the most anemic offenses in the country...all of this in spite of the number of high-level recruits that you seem to be bringing into the program. Any thoughts?

Weis: What's wrong with you people? Afraid to look ugliness in the face? Well here, look at it! It's ugly, isn't it? Here! You look at it! Look at it! Look at it! Look at it! I want all of you to look at it! I bet there's no line at the snack bar!

MJenks: Do you have any plans for how to address these issues?

Weis: Hmmmm...I'd get an ice cream.

MJenks: One other criticism is that your team seems to make very few halftime adjustments, as was evident during the UNC game through today's game against Syracuse. Are you getting out-thought by the other coaches, are your adjustments just not making a difference, or are the other coaches able to adjust fast enough to counter your adjustments?

Weis: So you mean to say they’ve taken what we thought we think and make us think we thought our thoughts we've been thinking our thoughts we think we thought? I think...

MJenks: Uh...

Weis: You know what the problem is. You've got it set to M for Mini, when it should be set to W for wumbo! I Wumbo, you wumbo, he, she, we, wumbo, wumbo, wumboing, I'll have three wumbo, wumbora, wumbology, the study of wumbo? Its first grade, SpongeBob!

MJenks: Moving on...you took over offensive play calling from Mike Haywood recently and you said you would do it until the end of the year, yet the offense has continued to sputter. Are you going to try and mix things up, perhaps get a little more fancy in your playcalling, put some more air under the ball?

Weis: Do you mean she puts on airs? That's just fancy talk. If you want to be fancy, just put your pinky up in the air like this. The higher you hold it, the fancier you are. Higher! Now that's fancy!

MJenks: Are there going to be any changes to your starters going into the last game of the season and a possible bowl game, or are you going to stick with the same guys who got you here?

Weis: It's for me to know and for you to never find out. You may be an open book, but I'm a bit more complicated than that. The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.

MJenks: Have you seen the stat line for today's game? I have it right here, in case you don't have a copy.

Weis: Hand over the goods, BoxBandit, and prepare for your most unpleasant pillow fight of your life!

MJenks: I'm sorry, Coach. It shows that you guys only gained 41 yards on the ground, but they [Syracuse] have allowed an average of over 200 yards per game. Is there something wrong with the offensive line?

Weis: Pretty good, SpongeBob, but its lacking basic construction, and your perspective leaves a lot to be desired.

MJenks: It seemed that Syracuse and even Navy, Boston College and Pitt all wanted the games more than you did. Is there any way to try and get the team fired up? Like, maybe a pep talk or a good chewing out?

Weis: Classy sophisticates like us should not stain our lips with cursing.

MJenks: What about a team meeting where you sit down and try to talk about the direction the team is going? Motivate them, maybe?

Weis: I know what that word means! That's one of those sentence enhancers. You just sprinkle it on anything you say, and Wham-O! You've got yourself a spicy sentence sandwich!

MJenks: Switching gears a little bit, what are your plans for this week? Will you be having a Thanksgiving dinner with the players or are you focusing only on the upcoming USC game?

Weis: It’s just all fun and games with you. Nothing really matters. Oh, let’s go jelly fishing! We don’t have any work to do. Life’s just a big bowl of assorted cashews and nobody has anything to dust or to clean or to wipe… or fabricate!

MJenks: So then, you'll be scheming all through the week to try and find a better game plan. Will you be tapping into some of that renowned Robot Genius?

Weis: But don’t genius live in a lamp?

MJenks: Does that mean you'll be changing things up, and, if so, can you give us a glimpse of what to expect?

Weis: Hmm...Yeah...I've got it! Let's get naked!!

MJenks: Perhaps I'll leave the genius scheming up to you. What about the team's pre-game meal?

Weis: Some chicken, some roast beef, some pizza...

MJenks: And for you?

Weis: Some chicken, some roast beef, some pizza...

MJenks: Doesn't that seem excessive?

Weis: I'm a big man, Sponge. A big, big man!

MJenks: Given the schedule this year and the expectations not being met, are you feeling any heat from the hot seat?

Weis: No...I'm warm.

MJenks: With the results on the field and the fanbase souring toward you and the coaching staff, do you feel any danger of losing your team?

Weis: Hmmm. I sense no danger here. How can they be dangerous? They're covered with free cheese!

MJenks: Have you heard any of the names of other coaches that have been put out there as your possible replacement, guys like Brian Kelly or David Cutcliffe?

Weis: Nobody likes those guys. All they do is blow, blow, blow on their stupid whistles, rub, rub, rub that white stuff on their noses, and show off their grossly misshapen bodies. I'm going to the snack bar.

MJenks: Some have said you're not qualified for the job as you never had head coaching experience before.

Weis: I thought this was Spanish class.

MJenks: Some have speculated that losing to Syracuse like you did could sound the death knell for you and this program. Losing to Syracuse was also the "final straw" for your predecessor. Any thoughts?

Weis: What’s so great about being a big pink loser? Exactly. I was never closer to an award than the minute I started copying you.

MJenks: So, do you think you've improved this program since the day you inherited it?

Weis: You know what's funny? My pickle started out in a jar, and now it's in one again! It's like a pun or something.

MJenks: What would you like most right now in order to help fix this team and set them in the right direction?

Weis: I know, you want olives. Oh, I’m sorry. I was just talking to my old community college buddy, Flats. I bumped into him at the soda store, isn’t that funny? It must have been years since we’ve seen each other. Well, let me get going. He’s got to go back to school soon. He says he’s going to kick somebody’s butt. Hello? Is this Pizza Castle?

Reaction

Tee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee!

*breath*

Tee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee!

Looks like it was naked circles in the front yard while making airplane noises.

Swing and a miss, Michael Phelps...swing and a miss.

Maybe this will make you feel better:

Emotional Desolation

Oh, hey. How are you doing? Have a long week? Glad that the weekend's here? Yeah, it's supposed to be nice weather. Got any plans? That sounds like fun.

Me? Oh, you know, the usual. A little tired. Was up late last night and all but--fuck you Ted Thompson!

That's right. I'm an emotional wreck because of you and that cheesedick you call a head coach. Mark Murphy, where's the open arms? Huh? Where are they? You know what...here's $25 million. You three go away for ever.

And Brett...you are dead to me, sir. I was all prepared for you to go to the Vikings. I was like, "Hey, I like Purple" and "I used to fuck a girl from Minnesota" and "Now Eric and I can be buddies bffs" and "Man, I 'm going to have to find a hat with horns and some fake blond braids. This will be fun." Then I made that horn sound that the fans in Minnesota blow all the time. You know, the one that sounds like a horny humpback whale out looking for some play? That one.

And then rumors of Tampa Bay abounded and I was like "Hey, that's alright. Jon Gruden has some ties to Notre Dame. That'd be cool" and "Tampa Bay has some hot cheerleaders" and "Heh heh, they're pirates. Farrrrrrrrrrrrrrve. Heh heh."

And someone was even like, "Hey, Dolphins need a quarterback" and after I threw up in my mouth a little, I was like, "Well, my best friend the Eye Doctor is a Dolphins fan...maybe we can comiserate..."

But then it happened. You went to the Jets, Brett. The J E T S Jets Jets Jets. Just End The Season Jets Jets Jets. Dude. Come on. Rip my heart out of my chest and punt it across the room, and then it can slide down the wall and land in the trash can. Thanks Laura Powers Brett.

I even tried to justify it. I was like "Hey, they're green" and "Kevin wore a Jets jacket on the Wonder Years" and "Fucking Jets. Jesus I hate the fucking Jets." Yeah, that didn't work out so well. Don't you remember a few years ago, Brett, when you were poised to go into the playoffs with homefield throughout, and then you rolled into Giants Stadium to play the hapless Jets and they pasted you 41-3 and dropped you to the third seed and you bowed out to Dogslayer Michael Vick? Yeah. You totally just went and made out with Jimbo.

So, I should turn back to my old team, right? Oh fuck that. The collection of bumblefuckery that is the front office down to the head coach in Green Bay deserves my scorn and disdain. I hope you've got your resumes brushed off and updated, fellas, because the first losing season (or the end of this one), you'll either be run out of town on a rail or your heads will be served on a silver platter, Salome-style.

Ugh, so here I wander, teamless, the wide plains of Gorgoroth stretching out around me. The wind is bitter and bleak. Tiny grains of sand pelt my skin, raising knobby red whelts in their wake. To whom do I turn? I guess the easy answer would be the Colts, since I grew up in Indiana, but they've always been more like that second team to root for, that kid in class who tries real hard but never gets it right, but you still pat them on the head and say "Nice job, Jimmy." Plus, they don't fully articulate my disdain for the Bears--though with the Sex Cannon at the helm...or the Neckbeard--take your pick--hating the Bears is akin to disliking a Pop Warner league team.

I'm distraught, and it's all your fault, Ted Thompson. Hitch your wagon to the Titanic (sorry Hap, that was beautifully put, so I'm thieving it) or Charon's ferry or a dog turd laying in the sun drying up and getting hard. The Packers are dead to me, too. At least until Aaron Rogers gets hurt and Brian Brohm takes over (week three?). Ugh. At least college football starts soon. Oh, Jesus, that's right. Well, how long until basketball season? Fuck.

Let the Games Begin

Okay, I haven't done a sports post in a long time, party because some people were whining about it, and partly because it's baseball and MLS season here. While I love soccer, not many people give a damn about it here in the states, and pretty much the rest of the world plays soccer during the winter. So, there you go. The soccer of any import isn't being played now, and what am I going to do with baseball? Tell you how the Cubs will find a new and inventive way of screwing it up this year? Place odds on whom the next Bartman will be? With football season just over the horizon, I thought maybe I'd do a few quick little stories that have popped up recently. You might have heard a few of them. One of them is about a guy named Brett. Screw you, Milwaukee Bait and switch, baby. The first entry is about the Cubs, mostly because they're rolling off a four game sweep in which they dominated the Milwaukee Brewers. I really don't have too much against Milwaukee, and despite the title, I kind of like them (Jesus, they're the Brewers...how can you truly hate them? Their mascot makes beer and happiness!), and they play in one of the finest ballparks in the majors. Still, screw you, Milwaukee. Nothing like seeing your hopes disappear in one second and suddenly turn into five games back in another. I think the true joy in all of this is that I read some obnoxious White Sox fan talking about how, after the series in which the central leaders in both leagues were playing the second place teams, only one of the Chicago teams would still be in the lead. I guess he was right. So, I guess I should be saying, "Screw you, stupid White Sox blogger!"

I'm a Sports Radio Whore It's true. I'll admit it. And here's why. All summer long, I have faithfully been listening to the two AM stations here in the Triangle, 850 the Buzz and 620 the Bull. The big draw was 850 had Bomani Jones covering their afternoon drive home time slot, and I've been enjoying his take on things since he was writing for the World Wide Leader. Well, now he's down here, and I've been loving it. Unfortunately, Friday is his last day, and August 4th we get ACC Douchebag David Glenn back. It wouldn't be so bad if Glenn wasn't a horrific ACC Homer (I get it, he loves it, yay for him), but his voice is annoying AND he asks hard-hitting questions to coaches and players along the lines of "If you were a tree, would your leaves be green? Unless of course you were a pine tree, then would your needles be green? And, if you don't want to talk about the color of your leaves and/or needles, feel free to tell some other cutesy story, and I'll guffaw like a senile old man with my teeth in my pocket." The biggest thing that gets me about this asscock is he's willing to give Roy Williams and Mike Krzyzewski as pass on every little negative blip on their radar, but he talks about what an asshole Bob Knight is. Yeah, I get it. Coach Knight was a dick. But you know what? He's also the winningest coach not named Pat Summit in NCAA basketball. So, eat dick already.
Couple the fact that David Glenn comes back with the obnoxious Billy-show run by Mark Packer, son of nefarious h8er Billy Packer, that plays in the afternoon on 620, and I start thinking of things I'd rather be doing than listening to sports talk radio around here, like having my testicles pulled slowly out of my nose with a crochet hook, for starters. Ugh.
Then, however, I turned over to the FM radio show today just in time to hear that they've picked up a contract with Westwood One radio. Do you know who is on Westwood One radio for football? That's right. Notre Freaking Dame. The guy announcing this promised every Notre Dame game every week. I about had to pull over and rub one out right there. Of course, 850 and 620 have to counter, so they are carrying...Duke football and North Carolina high school football games. Wow. The high school football games will be more interesting. So, there. Guess what, 99.9 the Fan? You've just picked up a new faithful listener. And you didn't even have to put on fishnets.

Speaking of Billy Packer... CBS got wise and told that antiquated curmudgeon to hit the road. Billy, of course, complained about how they got it wrong, declared it was over, and then shuffled off to eat his bran flake ice cream cone with extra prune. Good riddance.

Speaking of Good Riddance... Jesus, Red Sox fans, why did it take you this long? Let me back up. I passionately hate the Red Sox, mostly because the only Red Sox fans I've met in real life redefined the word "obnoxious". I believe it now means, "fat, ugly, and loud in a ball cap with a red 'B'". Of course, I've only ever met one Red Sox fan I can stand...probably because he kicks so much ass...mine, too, I'll assume, if I keep ragging on his team and 'nation'. But, don't worry, Red Sox nation, there is another group of fans who take obnoxious to a whole new level. Sorry, Hap. Anyway, it seems the annual drama has been shipped out West. The fact that Theo Epstein could convince anyone to take that mess of his hands is a major coup. I thought it was a deal when the Cubs dumped Sammy Sosa after his little tantrum...and Manny's been throwing these for years. Good riddance, I'd say. The mess that is Manny Ramirez was traded to the Dodgers today as the trading deadline came to an end in major league baseball. You got a decent pitcher outfielder (sorry, I was confusing him with Zach Duke) out of the deal, Red Sox nation, but I imagine the sudden relief of the migraine disappearing is better than Jason Bay. Unfortunately, David Ortiz is never going to see another hittable pitch in a clutch situation, but there you have it.

Stop me if you've heard this one... Danica Patrick picked a fight with another driver in the pits recently. This one with fellow female driver, Milka Duno. However, Milka, not having to abide by the by-laws of chivalry, threw a towel in Danica's face...twice...and then told her to leave the pits. This, of course, is not the first time Danica's picked a fight with someone. Famously, in the Indianapolis 500, after she wrecked out...again...she got out of her car and stormed down toward Ryan Briscoe's pits to confront him. She's had a history of punching other drivers--all male--knowing full well that they can't hit her back, and then when the guy talks about it, she insults his manhood. Also, ever notice how none of these wrecks are ever Danica's fault. I guess that's what you get when you have a bitch storming around with a false sense of entitlement. She keeps talking about making the jump to NASCAR, and I'd love to see it, because I can't really see Chocolate Myers taking her shit for too long before he hauls off and knocks her jaw loose.

More False Sense of Entitlement I see Michelle Wie is taking some more solid career advice from Daddy Dearest and skipping the major event on the LPGA tour--the tour on which she was won exactly zero events--to once again compete in a PGA tour. This will be her fourteenth attempt to play with the boys. She's made the cut in exactly zero of these competitions, but continues to play in them. If you'll pardon me, I'm going to go tell my daughter to enjoy being a little girl for as long as she wants. Look, I'm all for equality and all, but, seriously, Michelle...maybe you should focus on winning an LPGA event rather than just trying to make the cut on the PGA tour. If that's too much for you, maybe you can focus on signing the right scorecard for once.

A Man Named Brett George Brett, that is. We passed the 25th anniversary of the "Pine Tar Incident", wherein Brett showed the world that he was crazy. If not crazy, then he showed the world what a crazy face looks like, at least one without make-up and nasty scars on the cheeks. In case you forgot about it (or weren't born yet), basically Ole George used the sticky too high up on his bat and was called out after hitting a go-ahead two-run home run. His was the last out of the game. George came tearing out of the dugout to confront the umpires in a scene that was played over and over again during the opening scenes of This Week in Baseball throughout the entirety of my youth.

Purple Number 4? So, Brett Favre is...quasi-retired? What a fucking circus this has turned out to be. At first, I was like, "Brett, just walk away." But then the whole thing came out that Ted Thompson, GM for the Packers, and Mike McCarthy, head coach for the Packers, pushed Favre into retiring. If that's the case, then they should either let him come back, or outright release him. If it's false, and Brett really wanted to retire, then he should stay gone.
However, I can't understand the Packers' position here. They are rock solid, dead set on Aaron Rogers taking over in Green Bay. McCarthy has said there's no quarterback controversy...Aaron is our guy. Wow. Versus a hall-of-famer who owns ever passing record? Really? I mean...every team in the league has quarterback competitions, except Green Bay, Indianapolis and New England. To tell me that Aaron Rogers is on par with Peyton Manning and Tom Brady is fucking ridiculous. I mean, you've seen this guy on the field, right? Not to mention, he's a Jeff Tedford quarterback. Those guys always turn out to be great NFL stars, right Akili Smith and Joey Harrington?
Yeah, it's gotten ugly and comical, but my favorite is when Favre was going to call the Packers' bluff and show up at training camp. Thompson talked him out of it, saying "If you show up at camp, Brett, I'll lose my job." Okay, yeah, because when you're not making the playoffs this year with Rogers, and Favre is leading some team to the playoffs, your head isn't going end up on a pike in Green Bay. Good luck with that, buddy.
Honestly, if Brett ends up in Minnesota, I will root for him to beat the Packers. I know, my loyalties should not lie with one man, but the Packers bungle-fucked this long ago. I want to see Rogers fall flat on his face and I want to see McCarthy eating shit pie. Sauerkraut is optional.
Check it out. I just switched allegiances again...and still no fishnets. Although, I'm thinking someone out there might need to put on a pair to help cement my ties to the Purple People Eaters.

I think that should just about do it for alienating every one of my readers.

DUI-ke

Ah, Duke University. I felt kind of bad for you when Mike Nifong dragged the good name of your school through the mud in order to get reelected. Wait. No, that was just the lacrosse team. Duke tried and convicted the team without a trial. I forgot that. Any shred of respect I had for Duke went up in smoke with that little incident.

Now, there's this:

http://www.wral.com/sports/story/2959759/

I realize that you have to be pretty smart to get into Duke. I acknowledge that. Also, I have no problem with underaged college kids hitting the booze, especially after the semester has wound down. I mean, I can think of a certain case of Icehouse bought and swilled down in Dekalb, IL that was purchased...shall we say...illegally? Yes, I think that sums it up nicely. So, it's not like I can cast any stones from that viewpoint.

But, dumbass...here's a clue. If you're an athlete, it might not be the best idea to go carrying booze around. Someone's going to snap your picture. If that someone happens to be in the city where your biggest rival is found, they're going to arrest you as well.

New Duke "football coach", David Cutcliffe, had nothing to say except that the situation will be handled internally. And by "internally", he means that he's calling Archie Manning to see if there's a hidden fourth Manning child that can magically appear in Durham this fall.

The Day the Music Died

So...last year, I was a little premature in my mourning of the post-Favre era in Green Bay. I'll admit it. I was wrong. In fact, Favre came back just the way I would have wanted him to: breaking Marino's records and taking the Packers back to respectability once more. Okay, fine, he lost to the Bears twice and set the all-time interceptions record along the way to shoving Marino aside.

I waited until later in the day to say anything about it (I'm sure my friends have checked in more than once, just to see if I said anything), mostly because I wanted to be sure this was the real thing. Honestly, I don't think the re-signing of Randy Moss to the Patriots had anything to do with his decision. Maybe a small amount. Who knows, other than Brett and maybe DeAnna. Still, it's not like his legacy will be tarnished. I know people all over the place are taking a moment to sit back and say "About fucking time, you bastard" and "Now you and Madden can make out all year long". Yeah, great. Those people can kiss the meatiest part of my ass.

I understand the anti-Favre sentiment, though. He's the kind of guy who, if he doesn't play for your team (or worse, he plays for your rival!), then you can't stomach him. If he was the Bears quarterback, I'd despise him. But, he wasn't. He was the Packers' quarterback, and for 16 years, he gave us (Packers fans) a helluva ride. I'll be thankful for that, for all the highs, for all the gunslinging gridiron adventures, for all the touchdowns, shovel passes, ill-conceived scrambles, sacks and interceptions. I'll be thankful for it all because, dammit, whenever you saw Brett running out of that tunnel, you thought deep in the back of your mind that you had a chance to win the game. And that's what a favorite player should make you do whenever he steps on the field.

So thanks, Brett. Thanks for a lot of fun. You'll be missed, even by those people who heaved a heavy sigh of relief when you finally hung 'em up. You came in a Hawk, but you'll always be a Packer. Sit back on a creekside some where and eat some crawfish and drink some beer. You've earned it.

Here's a link dump for some of the things I've read today:

Crown Of Thistles: Good-bye, Brett
Homebrew and Chemistry: Finally!
Scribe at Blackridge: #4
Foul Balls: Favre Retired...for Serious This Time
Deadspin: Making Peace With Favre's Final Days
Deadspin: Brett Favre Retires. Seriously, This Time.
Rumors and Rants: Goodbye, Archnemisis
Fanhouse: Favre's Retirement Similar to Patrick Roy's?
Cobra Brigade: Brett Favre Retired
850 the Buzz: Favre's Packer Days are Over, but What about His Career?
NFL.com: Favre Calls End to Career after 17 Seasons

I stuck mainly with blogs on this one, because they're funnier to read. I tossed in the NFL.com link for "journalistic integrity" (Fuck you, Kornheiser). If you have a blog and feel like you'd like a link on my site, drop me a line (and trust me, if you don't want a link out of this steaming sewer of crap I call a blog, I totally understand). I might update a few tomorrow.

By the way, in case you're keeping score at home: Favre has retired, Bob Knight has retired, and Kelvin Sampson has resigned. All in the course of a month. Last I heard, Lou Pinella is firmly ensconced in Chicago. Charlie Weis? Put down the cheeseburger!

EDIT: I just learned this earlier, but long time adversary/nemesis/friend Warren Sapp also retired yesterday. Huh.

When I'm Wrong, I'm Wrong

Apparently, yesterday, I learned that, as a scientist, I can be wrong from time to time. Shocking. So, I thought I'd own up to a few things I might have written recently that were dead-in-the-water wrong. Such as the seminal "NC State sucks!" blog from last week. In it, I incorrectly reported that Courtney Fells was out for the game against Carolina. He was in, and what an impact he had. I think he hit the shot that gave them 13 points at the half as opposed to 11. This, of course, while Carolina was hovering around 43 points. Nothing makes me smile quite like a Wolfpack beat down of epic proportions. And if that wasn't epic, then it was getting close to it. So, Wolfpack fans, sorry that I misrepresented the state of your team. Also, I'm sorry that your program is a fourth-tier team in what once was the best conference in the country. Oh, by the way, Arizona State is #22 in the land.

Also, last year about this time, I wrote about the end of an era in Green Bay. Well, I was wrong. And I couldn't be happier. Watching Favre stumble and underhand toss a pass that was able to gain the first down was in a word (said through my green-and-gold filter) awesome. The snowball throwing was a nice touch. And though I won't make any bold predictions about this weekend's game, I will remind a certain quarterback that it doesn't get down to 8 degrees in the bayou. Oh wait, that's both of the quarterbacks. So, I'll just kindly ask Eli to return to the Eli of old. But, hey, thanks for beating the Cowboys. Not that I was afraid of them, it's just that I'm sick of seeing Tony Romo. Anyway, you should all know who I'm rooting for on Sunday night.

Aside from the Colts choking it at home last weekend, it was a pretty good sports weekend for the Jenks household. My dreams of a Colts/Packers Super Bowl probably went up in smoke when Dwight Freeney went down with the injury, but oh well. Here's to hoping that the Patriots' D turns him into Philip "Belichek's Bitch" Rivers this weekend. Mouthy little shit. If the Colts could have gotten any pass rush on that arrogant little punk, the game would have been a lot different. Alas, they didn't...and now we have to hear about the inspired play of Philip Rivers with his bad knee (note, I'm not giving the booing of the Patriots fan any play, since that shit has been way over-hyped and run into the ground...yeah, they booed, but it wasn't like it was malicious, and it wasn't like it was a raining chorus coming down on her head, and she was laughing about it anyway. She wasn't booed off the field. She certainly wasn't running away crying. She was wearing a Brady jersey. Do you think she'd get booed anywhere else in the league? Jesus. Give it a rest.).

I didn't get to watch the second half of the Indiana game this weekend (nor most of the first half, since it was about ten minutes straight of commercials between the end of the SD/Ind game and the switching of the broadcast to the basketball game), but I will say (again) that I'm sick of Bruce Weber. Whine whine whine. Quack quack quack. You're an annoying little orange and blue duck. Rather than whine about the refs, maybe you should teach your kids how NOT to get beat by the likes of the mighty Tennessee State Tigers on your home court. That being said, Indiana needs to learn how to avoid letdowns on nights when Gordon's head is not fully in the game and/or the referees are calling traveling/palming really tight (which I've seen in a few games this year where they're keying on Gordon). I think their ranking is just about right, though. I can't say they're better than, like, 7, but I don't think they're worse than 12. That's just my thoughts, at least.

A New Era for Noa Briqualon

What the hell is it about Purdue's head football coach? Are they contractually obligated to employ someone who looks like Wilford Brimley? I guess Boiler fans can look forward to another six years of "plopping that thing into a steaming bowl of Quaker Oats."

Story.

Adieu

College football wraps up tonight with the championship game between Louisiana State and the Ohio State University, a game in which the Bayou Bengals are favored by four points (at last check). Frankly, for me, I'm ready to see football go away. This year has just been kind of bad all over...unless you're a fan of the Ohio State or LSU, I guess. Even these teams have had their high and low points this season. The BCS, itself, needs this to be a good game, since most of the other high profile bowl games have been either bad games (VT/Kansas) or games where the outcome was known pretty much from the kick off (Georgia/Hawai'i, USC/Illinois). Personally, I'm not sure which it's going to be.

The Buckeyes were, of course, in this same position last year...with one less loss and a Heisman quarterback behind center. We all know what happened, so no need to repeat it here. A lot of people seem to think that the same will happen again, since LSU supposedly has a lot of "team speed" and OSU's quarterback isn't nearly as mobile as Troy Smith was last year. However, I think one thing that everyone is overlooking is Jim Tressel. The Sweatervest is a good coach, and pretty smart, as well. Yeah, OSU got beat bad last year by Florida's faster defense. I'm pretty sure Tressel has heard that a few (thousand) times since last January, and will have prepared his team appropriately.

The one problem that Ohio State might have issues with is that it's been 52 days since their last game. 52 days. That's over seven weeks. That's almost two months. That's a long damned time to sit and prepare for a game. A ridiculous amount of time, but that's the flawed system we're under now. Get to play for the national championship...and wait. Wait wait wait. I think it's unfair for the teams that have to play in the national championship game (LSU has had about five weeks of watching film, themselves) to wait this amount of time to play. It's almost like starting a fresh season, and only playing one game.

To that end, I think that Tressel will have his players prepared and hungry after last year. Despite this being a home game for LSU (does LSU play a bowl game anywhere outside of Louisiana? It just always seems like they're either in New Orleans or Shreveport or something), I think that the SweaterVest will prevail. Ohio State 27, LSU 24.

In other news...
Yes, Notre Dame does have a top class coming in this year, which is pretty cool, since, you know, they shat the bed this year. Picking up Deion Walker was a nice land from this past weekend, and took a little of the sting out of the defection of Omar Hunter. Fortunately, Hunter was not our only nose guard recruit for this class, though he most likely was the best of the crop (and is one of the best defensive linemen in the country). Plus, he was a bit of a bonus recruit. Hopefully, there is enough time left in the recruiting period (signing day is in February) to fill in any gaps left by defections.

The thing that...I dunno...disgusts? angers? disappoints?...me is that this is the second year in a row that Florida has yanked a recruit out from under the Irish. The nice thing is, this seems like not only a good, talented class, but also a very cohesive class. They're all friends, and a lot of the other players were suprised by Hunter's defection. Hopefully this means lots of good things for the future of the program, as it will leave fewer years like this past year (7 seniors) in the offing. The other thing is, it's nice to see that, despite having the worst season in the history of the program, the coaching staff could still assemble a good, talented class to help fill in the depth chart left decimated in the wake of You-Know-Who that seems wholly and totally committed to playing for the Blue and Gold.

My Christmas Wishlist

Having been through several coaching searches at Notre Dame (having seen the end of the Davie and O'Leary eras while at ND and then the end of the Willingham and Baer eras as a proud alum), I feel bad for Michigan. The coaching search seems to mostly be a mess thanks to their AD Bill Martin, who seems to be treating the coaching search like the Grand Prize Game.

However, while reading this list of rumors about who is on whose radars for coaching vacancies, I spied this list for U of M.

Michigan: "Candidates: Kirk Ferentz, Greg Schiano, Jim Grobe, Gary Pinkel, Brady Hoke, Tom O'Brien, Jeff Tedford, Ron English, Mike DeBord, Mike Trgovac, Sean Payton."

Oh...please, please, please, PLEASE let it be Tom O'Brien going to Michigan. Not only would the Crown Prince of Mediocrity (the King sitting upon his throne in Seattle...a throne that's slowly heating up) be calling the shots in Ann Arbor, but then whining and crying and gnashing of teeth in Raleigh would be so great to hear. Oh, the streets would flow with the tears of the Wolfpack faithful as their great coach, set to lead them to the promised land, left for greener pastures.

Honestly, I'm surprised Leavitt out of South Florida isn't on more people's lists. I heard his name tossed around earlier in the season as a possible replacement for Weis should Chuckles lay another terd on the field next season.

Please, Santa, make it so. I'll take back that whole terrorist thing.