A short note to Leach, Tressel, et. al.

Listen fellas, this:

does not a gameplan make. Stick to the x's and o's, aight? Also, Leach, in light of this Baylor game we're watching here, uh...

You're going to need a bigger boat, you weirdo nerd.

Croom Relives the Horror; Takes a Bow

Aye, but we floated with character...

The scene: aboard the Orca, first light just creeping over the horizon. The ship's three passengers are weary. After a long night of drinking, the crew still has the refrain of "Oh what shall we do with you seven Spanish ladies" running through their heads. A delirious, somber mood has suddenly overtaken them, as the reality of their predicament settles in again. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnd Scene:

Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfus/Greg Byrne) - "You were on the Indianapolis?"

Police Chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider/Mark Keenum) - "What happened?"

Quint (Robert Shaw/Sly Croom) - "Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into her side, Chief. We was comin' back from a win in Starkville over Petrino. A week away from the offseason. Solid class comin' in. We'd just delivered the bomb. The Hiroshima bomb. One game left, see. Smooth sailin, right? Well, eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in 15 minutes.

Didn't see the first shark for about five minutes. Tiger. 13-footer. You know how you know that in the water, Chief? You can tell by lookin' from the dorsal to the tail. What we didn't know, was that our bomb mission was so secret, no distress signal had been sent. They didn't even list us overdue for a week.

Very first light, Chief, sharks come cruisin' by, so we formed ourselves into tight groups. It was sorta like you see in the calendars, you know the infantry squares in the old calendars like the Battle of Waterloo and the idea was the shark come to the nearest man, that man he starts poundin' and hollerin' and sometimes that shark he go away... but sometimes he wouldn't go away.

Sometimes that shark looks right at ya. Right into your eyes. And the thing about a shark is he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes. When he comes at ya, he doesn't even seem to be livin'... 'til he bites ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then... ah then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'. The ocean turns red, and despite all your poundin' and your hollerin' those sharks come in and... they rip you to pieces.

You know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men. I don't know how many sharks there were, maybe a thousand. I do know how many men, they averaged six an hour. Thursday mornin', Chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Wide receiver. Boson's mate. I thought he was asleep. I reached over to wake him up. He bobbed up, down in the water, he was like a kinda top. Upended. Well, he'd been bitten in half below the waist.

At noon on the fifth day, a Lockheed Ventura swung in low and he spotted us, a young pilot, lot younger than Mr. Hooper here, anyway he spotted us and a few hours later they started to pick us up. Called the game. You know that was the time I was most frightened. Waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went into the water. 316 men come out, the sharks took the rest, November 28, 2008.

Anyway, we delivered the bomb. I'll just leave you men to yourselves now.

:Quint/Croom exits the hull, jumps overboard:

:Lights slowly fade to black, leaving the two men in stunned silence:

Truthiness

Silver lining, Jarrett. Your day's over and you didn't throw any TD's to the other team.

Off to never neverland...

Just came across this picture and decided it was too much not to share. The gentleman in red there is far and away the scariest human being on the planet. Yeah. It's Shark Week, Sly. Bring your floaties. More images of the coming destruction to follow.

Ed.: Its worth noting that the Oracle spake thusly: "Peria will be foremost on (Lee's) mind."

Mulling it Over: Despite a Moral Hangover

HN: Ha ha hoooooo. Hey hey Frebs! Hows it hangin, bud? I'm just livin it up, just lovin life. Just lovin this school here and this here helmet. Pleased as pie. Walkin on sunshine. Happier than a pig in shit! Get it!?! A PIG!!! hahahaha! IN SHIT!!! Like Arkansas!

FR: Uh yeah, hey coach. I get it.

HN: Well, lil' buddy, you're not looking too good. I mean, ha, we just uh, just beat LSU.

FR: Believe me coach, I know. I celebrated after the game like Randy Marsh on election night. Dancing. Hollering. Calling the dinosaurs. I'm paying for it today, ya see.

HN: Aw hell Frebs. Grow a pair and let me know what I need to know about these Rebels following that win.

FR: *Sigh* I'll try, Houston. I'll try.

• 
  
  First and foremost, Houston, lets see the forest for the trees here. Big time players show up in big time games. I know you come to me for "insight" and "details" and stuff, but the most obvious observation is also the most important one: Jevan Snead and Peria Jerry are men among boys. Just because they're your best players doesn't mean that we shouldn't mention that sometimes. Now believe me when I tell you that I wish Jevan would turn in that performance every game, but there is something comforting in the knowledge that the guy shows up in a big way when the lights are at their brightest. His three best games have come against ranked opponents and on the road. As for the Truth, Coach, he went ahead and settled things for me, personally, on Saturday. My firstborn, boy or girl, will be named Peria. Wife won't even have a say in the matter. Little Peria Frebs "Sharky" Barnes.

HN: Yeah, ha. I figured you'd say that about Peria. Djoo see him hit that backup QB? You know, the one who was only in the game because Peria demolished the guy in front of him?

FR: Yeah I saw th...

HN: Man alive! I thought that Jefferson kid was going to come up headless. I mean, huh, I like Peria and everything but I uh, I ain't trying to kill nobody Frebs.

FR: It was LSU, Coach. Que sera sera.

• Now, after the watching the game, Coach, I will say I'm a little disappointed with CBS. I mean, it had been a long week at the office. Weather had been bad. Dealing with some things at home. All I want in this life is to settle in on Saturday afternoon, knock back a few brews, and learn a little bit about my man Herman Johnson! But Nooooo! CBS panned back to the damn FOOTBALL GAME like three times right in the middle of the "Ode to Herman Johnson" they were running in the first quarter. Come the fuck on Verne! I'm tryin to hear about the demi-god Hermanus here! So far, all I know is that he loves macaroni and peach cobbler, and that his favorite movie is Madagascar. And of course, he was the biggest baby in the history of the universe. I expect a full apology from CBS, and an "Ode to Herman, Vol. II" during next week's LSU / Arkansas game.

HN: Uh, what? Is that the big fella on their OL?

FR: Yeah Hootie don't worry about it. DK ruined the very last play that guy will ever have at his home field. Way to show up for your obligatory one play, DK.

• Anyhow, other than Peria and Jevan, you've also gotta give game balls to the following people, in this order: Kendrick Lewis, Mike Wallace, Tony Fein, Big Mike and Rob Park.

HN: Rob Park?

FR: Yes, Robbie. Did you see when the cheater/mini-me Trindon Holliday waved everybody off, then picked the ball up and started to run, despite the clearly audible whistles from all the refs that made all of our players stop and head for the sideline? Remember? And then all the Carnie Folk in the stands started booing loudly? Well, Rob Park chased the little booger down into the endzone and patted him on the helmet and obviously said something smart assed.

HN: Aw hell he wasn't being a smart ass. Rob told me he just told the kid that he loved his work in Bad Santa.

• OK Coach, I know everybody is going to be asking you about this, but I'd like to go on the record and say that I'm glad we kneeled it out on the one yard line. Not entirely because its classy, but because it is simultaneously demoralizing. NOTHING says "I'm better than you" than actually having to show mercy to your enemy. You know those bastards hated that. Even though that cheating DE came in and tried to take a cheap shot, we still did the right thing. And mercifully for him, I think Daverin Geralds or somebody got into Big Mike's ear and convinced him that he didn't need to pulverize the unsuspecting DE.

HN: Well, we had to have a little mercy, Frebs. I mean, huh, we dominated those Carnies for four quarters. All phases of the game, Frebs. Also, before I forget, Coach Nix told me to tell that Oracle bitch to go drink some bleach. "Big things for Charles Scott?" Yeah, Tony Fein gave him a big old cockpunch! Hayyyyoooooooo! Anyhow, this piece is supposed to be about what the win means, Frebs, so what can you tell me, you know, going forward?

FR: I can't tell you nothing, Coach. Go on with your bad self. In all sincerity, it means a lot to us to see our players searching you out after a big play, just for a high five. It means a lot to see them smiling on the sidelines. They love you, and perhaps surprisingly and maybe a little reluctantly, we do too, Coach. You are bat-shit crazy but we couldn't care less. Congratulations on a huge win, and keep 'em headed in the right direction. Forward.

Also, just a little FYI, it's Frebs' Sharkweek 2K8, Coach. Steer clear of the deep end.

The Oracle Speaketh

The Magnolia Bowl? Well, let me see...

Lot of predictions being thrown around about tomorrow's big game. Based solely on personal observation, most of the Tiger fans are calling for *gasp* an LSU win, albeit by small margins. Apparently the Kool-Aid runneth over this week for Rebel fans, as the majority believe *gasp* Ole Miss will win by a substantial margin. But the Oracle cares not for these predictions. She told you not to eat the red pills. She tells you now not to drink the red Kool-Aid. Take it away, Big O.

Oracle: Well well well. This really is a paradox, young ones. Lets play a little game before I get started: The team I'm picking has a young, turnover prone quarterback. They have a highly touted offensive line. They have a very productive running attack. They have a monster at defensive tackle. They are vulnerable against the pass. And, child, they have at least one headcase that will be the deciding factor. Now, are you weeping? Are you smiling? Of course you are.

Understand that these teams have much in common. Much in common. We'll have to look a little closer to figure this one out.

When Ole Miss has the ball: Do you remember, child, the first two drives of the South Carolina game? When Bolden and Eason ran wild through gaps as wide as Jackson Avenue? Yes, I see a strong start for the ground game this time around, too. The Tigers will come out emotionally spent from the past two adrenaline draining games, flat from the atmosphere of Senior Day, and the Rebels will score a touchdown on the opening drive.

I see Jevan coming out crisp. I see Shay with a big catch early. But things will get tougher from there. Just as Jevan is finding his groove, Lester will discover that pressure is the key to stopping Ole Miss. He'll send six at a time at the quarterback, and the Rebel OL will begin to buckle.

To counter, Houston will try the Wild Rebel for two series in the second quarter, to decidedly bad results. The second half will depend upon how well Ole Miss can hold off the pass rush. Look for a screen to Bolden for a big gain. I see the freshman shining in front of a hometown crowd. I see him with two TDs. I see two costly turnovers for the team.

Born on the Bayou

When LSU has the ball: Remember, child, when I told you Ole Miss would score on the opening drive? Well this does not bode well early for the Tigers. Lester will want to run the score up early, and will foolishly test the Rebels deep. I see a deep drive, but a costly interception for Jarret Lee. He hears too much, child. He hears the boos. He sees the things they write. He sees Peria, too. Peria will be foremost in his mind.

My head ain't filled with nothing but cats and rockin' chairs

Nonetheless, the speedster Byrd will be too much for the Ole Miss secondary to contain. He'll have a touchdown. And Lee will finish with 200 yards.

He'll have enough big completions in the first half to loosen up the box for Charles Scott. I see big things for Mr. Scott, child. Big things. 150 yards types of things. Two TDs types of things. I see three turnovers for the Tigers. The last of which is crucial.

And in the end: I see the troubled one, the one you call DK, he will make a crucial stop on the last drive as LSU tries to take the lead for the first time all game. He jars the ball from Lee's hands as chemically-imbalanced meets emotionally unstable. I see the kicker Shene tacking on insurance points in the last minute of the game. I see the Rebels leaving victorious, 31-24. And when this happens, young one, Kentrell Lockett will establish the Magnolia Bowl's first mini-tradition. He will run to the Ole Miss section with the newly created trophy and go Happy Gilmore with it, placing it to his pelvis and thrusting wildly. The crowd will go wild. He will, indeed, have that wood.

A Real Cool Hand; Waiting for the Big One

"It's all now you see. Yesterday wont be over until tomorrow and tomorrow began ten thousand years ago. For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it's still not yet two oclock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it's all in the balance, it hasn't happened yet, it hasn't even begun yet, it not only hasn't begun yet but there is still time for it not to begin..."

-- from Faulkner's Intruder in the Dust

Its already been one hell of an anticipatory week for college football fans. And not a real easy time to get any work done at the office for me. Every time I try to clear my head and get at the things that I do to pay the bills, I start to see it unfold all over again. We will be in that corner of the endzone at Tiger Stadium. It will be Senior Day - for all LSU's faults, I've got to admit that the way they handle Senior Day is first rate - and we'll be sitting there half-heartedly applauding when their guys come walking out of the opposite tunnel. We'll be polite but internally we'll be ready to explode. When the Rebels finally appear we'll erupt, though everybody watching at home on CBS will only hear the boo's. And we'll remember who we're dealing with. But in the moments before kick-off we will reach a fever pitch, only this time it'll be a little different.

See I've been reading what the other schools have been saying all week, too. There's a couple other pretty big rivalry games coming up and they, too, have a little different flavor to them this year. Like this one up in Ann Arbor. For the first time in recent memory, Michigan won't be bowling this year. Won't be playing for a piece of the Big 10. Won't be jockeying for BCS position. Won't be doing anything but laying everything they've got on the line in an effort to take down their blood rival. And Lord, are they ready. You'd have to think more so than they've ever been.

Ditto for Auburn. A team that's so used to being in the national picture in November has been whittled down to playing for nothing more than respect. Or for disrespect, depending on how you look at it. Tommy Tuberville's team has racked up 6 straight W's in the Iron Bowl, won damn near every one they've played this century. And in that time span Alabama's fans and various administrators have tried to play off the losses as if they simply don't mean that much. They'll tell you that the Iron Bowl means less than the National Title picture - one that the Tide is finally involved in after years of searching. I'd be willing to bet the Tiders are singing a different tune if things go down this year like they're supposed to. But 'supposed to' never amounts to much in these games. And Auburn's fans know that all too well.

These teams, see, they're going in for the first time in a while knowing that everyone discounts them. Funny how that "us against the world" thing molds, welds, congeals an entire program in the days leading up to the big one. With all due respect, Tigers and Wolverines, welcome to my world. Welcome to every third weekend in November for the Rebels. Welcome to this thing, this silly little contest between 18-22 year old students, that keeps me up at night. Because the past few years, as you know, things have been going crummy for the Rebels, much like they have for you this year. And it only makes it all the worse when that team and those people that you hate - and there is no other word for it but hate - is bringing home football-shaped chrystals in January. Yeah, we can empathize.

Except this year they are trying to take that mentality away from us. Vegas keeps bumping that line down, and Troy came in and did their thing last week, and we had that game in the Swamp and so on and the next thing you know these assholes are trying to tell me that a.) well, we're supposed to win, anyway and b.) they don't really consider us a rival anyhow. Nah, son. We're not gonna let you pre-emptively neuter the feeling we're going to take away from Saturday's game.

Just because you may or may not be in the midst of a shitty year, you cannot take away the essence of who we are. We're Rebels, you see. Rebels. And sometimes defeat is part and parcel of that whole thing.

But as you know, when we go down, we go down swinging. How else do you explain the scores from the past few years? Why else would a team in the midst of a two-time National Championship run need overtime to dispose of a team that was a year away from going winless in the SEC? We're not there for moral victories. We're not there for the symbolism of being 'rebellious.' Do you think you can convince Justin Vincent that Patrick Willis was just trying to be symbolic when he leveled him with what some have called the perfect tackle in a game that the Rebels supposedly had no business even being in? Do you think John Jerry was only trying to prove a small conciliatory point when he tore through the line to block an extra point as time expired in 2006? Better yet, do you think the seniors on our team (or yours) have just forgotten about the way these games played out?

It seems self-evident to me that no matter how many first rounders LSU produces, no matter how many BCS bowl games they win, no matter how comparatively terrible our team may be, everybody involved knows that none of that shit matters when the whistle blows because this is a balls-out blood-and-guts knife-fight rivalry. These things are not symbols.

Luke got up every single time Big George Kennedy knocked him down in the middle of that prison-yard ring, with all the other prisoners telling him to stay down for his own good. "It's not your fault, he's just too big," they tell him. They were on his side. He'd already proved his point. But the little son of a bitch keeps getting up. He's not there to prove a point. Neither are we.

We'll be in that ring Saturday because we believe that we are just better than you. We are not there for moral victories. We are not there simply to prove that we belong. We are not just happy to be there. Everytime we've gotten up for the past six years its because we believe that we are better than you. We do and we are. You've had us for a while now, we'll give you that. You've got the trophies. You've got the recognition. You've got the glory. But for now, with it all in the balance, here we are coming back again. This is us ready to fight. This is us cranking this shit up to '11'. This is me with two arms raised, both middle fingers in the air. This is defiance. This game is what it means to be one of us.

Forward, Rebels.

That's What She Designed! LOLz!

Oh boy. Listen gang, as much as I hate LSU (with every fiber and metaphysical quantity of my very being), even I will admit that it was sorta time to fully flesh out this rivalry of ours. Its taken a century - a century - of much-ballyhooed, highly entertaining, hate-filled battles for someone to finally decide that we should have a name for this game. I was satisfied.

And while I'm not happy with the name for the thing - the Magnolia Bowl - I must admit that I couldn't have come up with anything better. I mean, the "I Think You All Have Mosquito DNA and are Probably Genetic Cousins to the Salamander Bowl" just doesn't really flow off the tongue, and the "Straight Up Hate Bowl" would no doubt further prompt LSU's fans to commit violence at the games. So the Magnolia Bowl, I guess I can learn to live with that.

And what type of trophy, praytell, should represent the Magnolia Bowl? If you guessed a penis in mid-ejaculate, as the always funny Godfrey Show described it, you were correct. *Sigh*

The trophy, designed of course by one of the Swamp People in like art grad-school or something,.. ugh. I can't even finish writing this. I keep looking at that ridiculous picture.

Way to crap on 100 years of storied football history and tradition, Swamp People. If we win, I'd like to be the first to suggest that this thing finds its way to the bottom of Lake Sardis. Then we can have like a do-over for trophy designs. I wouldn't trade an empty can of Diet Tab for this trophy.

Of Broken French and Physical Intimidation: Baton Rouge, LA

As if this pic wasn't funny enough without the corndogs. Unnecessary Photoshop.

Listen gang I think a lot of the time, the bitterness that exists between SEC rivals is largely unwarranted and over the line. I mean, at the end of the day, people have to understand that the same walk-on alumni trashy elements that they decry in other schools' fanbases also represent a small portion of their own school's fans. All I'm trying to say is that while I'll still lightheartedly call MSU fans rednecks, I'm not naieve enough to believe that there isn't a large amount of Ole Miss fans who hang out in gas-station parking lots and have like camo seat covers in their trucks and a picture of Calvin urinating on some auto maker's logo on their windows. Clearly the youtube message board brand of low brow trash talk is largely unfounded when it makes these broad-ranging generalizations.

Which is why I'm not going to sit here and say all or even most LSU fans are trashy, militantly drunk people. It should go without saying that the majority of their fans are at the least decent, educated, generally nice human beings who just want to see their football team win. BUT as far as I can tell, a larger-than-par-for-the-SEC-course portion of Tiger fans consistently do their part to uphold this stereotype that they lack even a vague idea of what it means to be hospitable or have a degree of social tact. I don't even mind the whole burning a straw-Saban in effigy thing or mass texting /calling opposing players. I wouldn't want our school doing it but that's relatively harmless. [Rumor has it their gearing up to attack Jevan's cell phone. I don't much care considering how it worked out for them the past three times they've done it.]

Can you hear me now?

I'm talking about the really classless stuff. I mean if they're not spitting on people, or drunkenly cursing at small children or old women, then they're trying to tip over Tennessee's bus (or at least throwing bottles through the windows), or hospitalizing opposing fans, or just generally being assholes. Even an objective observer would have to admit that these horror stories come out of Baton Rouge WAY more frequently than they do from any other SEC town. Not that every other school's fans act like angels, but damn, how many piss bombs do you have to hurl at unsuspecting people before you get your point across? This stuff simply wouldn't fly elsewhere.

And why? Why do LSU fans feel the urge to do this crazy shit? Do they think that they are like proving their fanhood through these acts of rabid fanaticism? Is it some sort of "we love our team more than you love your team" just asshole-off -- like "let's see who can be the biggest ass to show them how much it all means to us" type of deal? I honestly don't get it. It's like it doesn't occur to them that they are playing right into this terrible stereotype of themselves. At least until these fine investigative (if not ditzy) journalists decided to go through the looking glass at the Alabama game.

Two young ladies with the LSU campus paper The Daily Reveille decided to bring a camera along as they hung out at various LSU tailgates before the big game with Alabama two weeks ago - only they wore Alabama gear while doing it. What ensued was a couple of hours in which they were cursed at and had things thrown at them. Remember, dear readers, these were what appeared to be 20-year old girls. In the afternoon - before the sun set and the crazies really came out.

Now the best part of that link is the posts that LSU fans make under the video clip. Things like "Well I hope you girls got the reaction you were looking for. Way to make the school look bad." With all due respect, anonymous message board posters, I believe it was the drunk Coonass who threw a whiskey bottle at a young woman who made your school look bad. Honestly, why is there not a degree of public scorn in any of those video clips? I can say without any doubt that if I were to hurl a bottle at a 20-year old girl in broad daylight in the middle of the Grove - no matter what color her sweatshirt was - somebody, anybody, would likely punch me in the face just on principle.

I guess what I'm saying is this: Be careful this weekend Rebs. Keep your head on a swivel. Not joking here. Don't go anywhere alone.

Ed: Turns out the Reveille girls could only air so much of the footage they got from the 'Bama game. For a more detailed, written account of their afternoon, visit the follow-up editorial they wrote. Also, what strikes me as a little off, as a daywalking journalist, is just how flippant these girls are about the whole situation. I mean, they got spat upon, had things thrown at them, were groped by men and called "cunts" by women, and they end their account of it all with a 'gosh-darn-it-that-was-kinda-not-so-good-behavior' quote like "Maybe we should tone it down just a little." I mean, if these girls were describing a genocide, would they summarize the story with "Maybe killing people isn't all it's made out to be! ;) KTHNXBAI!" ?

FJM's Greatest Hits: Most Definitely NOT Sac Bunts

So I know that this is like the most important week of the year for serious Rebs. And diverting attention away from the LSU game is fairly blasphemous. But its Monday, and I simply cannot let the passing of the funniest blog on the intertubes go unnoticed. I'll have plenty of LSU content up by the time this week is done, but for now I'd like to reflect on my favorite Fire Joe Morgan piece of all time.

For those of you who don't know, the site was created to militantly and hilariously ridicule all of the dunderheaded baloney that baseball writers and broadcasters get away with on a daily basis. They targeted all the morons, but in particular they hated Plaschke, Joe Morgan, Skip Bayless, Scoop Jackson, John Kruk and their ilk. They hated hot air, ambiguous words like "grit" and "heart". Hated the sac-bunt, pitchers' W-L statistics and in general just articles that were meaningless and buttarded. The articles these guys produced were cosistently inane and baseless and rhetorical. One such article that came across the desk of Ken Tremendous (aka Michael Schur, lead writer for the Office) was found on MSN's online sports page. It had all of the proto-typical dumbassery that got the guys at FJM fired up: it was based on the age-old cliche that baseball players are soft, it criticised the game as boring and long and perhaps most unforgivingly, it ridiculed those baseball fans who lean heavily on the numbers to tell them about their favorite teams and players. Big mistake, MSN. If FJM was about anything, it was about protecting baseball lovers from the constant "nerd" insults (see: Basement, Mother's) from people who didn't understand what WHIP meant.

Please find Ken's smartassed response below. MSN's quotes in bold. KT's replies in italics. And if you're a baseball fan, do yourself and favor and visit their site to go through their archives.

Statistics

If I want a lesson in mathematics, I’ll walk through the halls of MIT, not the turnstiles of Yawkey Way. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves, aren’t we?

Oh, we're enjoying ourselves, J-Mo. And here's the thing about statistics, which to me seems self-evident, but to pseudonymous blowhards might not: you don't have to use them, if you don't want to.

On-base percentages, opponent on-base plus slugging percentages, sabermetrics … Alan Greenspan might enjoy crunching the numbers, but for those of us who’d rather leave our brains at work, the cold-beverage-intake-to-bladder-outflow ratio makes a whole lot more sense.

Bra. Seriously, bra. Fuck these nerds. For serious. True story, bra -- I'm at the game yesterday. I'm wasted. Seriously, bra, I've had like eleven brews. I'm there with my boy Donnie -- awesome guy. Solid guy. The papers call him the "Laundry Room Rapist." So Donnie's like, "Bra, you want another one?" And I'm like, "Shitchyea, dude! I ain't driving!" And Donnie's all, "Bra, you are driving, remember?" And I was like, "Ohhhh shit!" And we high-five, right?
So basically everything was awesome. We were crushing it, bra. And then, this little fucking nerd in front of us is like, "Can you be careful? You're spilling beer on my daughter's head," and I'm like, "Whatever dude -- it's a ballgame. Shut up and enjoy the ride!" and he's like, "Just try to be more considerate," and then his little nerd son is like, "Daddy, look, Manny's up!" and his nerd dad is like, "Let's go Manny!" and his nerd son is like, "His batting average is down to .288" and that's when I just lost it, bra. Those fucking nerds and their numbers. So I pull my rod out -- you know, because I have to piss, right? -- and the guy is all, "Hey! You can't do that here!" and I'm like, "Sorry, nerdbra, the only statistic I care about is how many brewskis I've had and how much piss I've pissed" and the next thing you know security is dragging me out and they're all like, "You're banned for life" and I'm like, "Bra, what the hell?" and they're like "You pulled your penis out and urinated at your seat and there's vomit on your forearm, and also you can't smoke in the stadium, and your friend is wearing a shirt and shoes but no pants," and I'm like "He's Donald Ducking it, bra -- it's classic!" and they're like, "Get out of here and never come back."
And that's when I realized: nerds have ruined baseball.

Thanks for the memories FJM.

Mulling it Over: 59 - Zilch edition

HN: Yeah we beat 'em, and we beat 'em real durn good. And I told the guys I'm proud of their heart and that helmet and all that jazz. But, Forward Rebs, really, it was just UL-M, right? I mean what can I really tell about this team after they destroyed a nobody squad with only 2 wins in the Sun Belt Conference. Look at my eyebrows, here, Forebs. Skeptical. Unsure. Bat-shit crazy. I mean throw me a bone here. I got a couple big games comin' up and I'm a little lost.

FR: Well, first off, we're honored you thought of us, Houston. And we want to assure you you've come to the right place, because honestly, we've been thinking real hard about this win, too. Secondly, we're glad you came up with a nick-name for the site. It was starting to be too much of a mouthful, you know, when we were like talking about ourselves to our friends and stuff. Forebs. We like it. Anyhoo, let's just see what we can't glean about our squad as we head into the two most anticipated weekends of the year.

• Right off the bat, Houston, I'd like to call to your attention a period of my life that is painful for me to think about. There used to be a coach at our school, ya see, who kept these little mid-season bouts with cupcakes very interesting . See even when the games weren't really close, like say a 27-7 win over the Citadel in 2005, we'd still walk out of the game and into the Grove and just feel like we had just wasted 3 hours of our lives. The games were boring. They were frustrating. They were anticlimactic. And eventually, they became non-issues to a large majority of our fanbase. I went to watch the aforementioned 38-31 win over Northwestern St. and wasn't all that surprised to find that I could just walk right on down to a seat about six rows up on the 40 yard line. There may have been 10,000 people there. I could hear the refs when they scolded players. Could hear the cheerleaders talking about the party the night before. Could hear our program in the doldrums. I sent a text message to a friend of mine that just read: "All time low" - which was itself startling considering your Razorbacks had beaten us 44-7 just two weeks before on an afternoon when daytime fireworks knocked out the electricity to our embarassingly small Mediocre-Tron. The point is this, Houston: we won by a wide margin yesterday, and whether that was because the team we were playing was worthless is simply beside the point. We made big, exciting plays. We scored bunches of points. Our players and our fans had fun. Lets just enjoy these things, because we've been kicked around recently enough to know that they aren't a given. 59-0. Check plus.

HN: Well thanks, Forebs, but I think the bigger "warm 'n fuzzy" factor here is that I got Peria to a bowl game. I mean, weren't y'all talking about these seniors last week?

FR: Don't steal my thunder, Houston. Don't be a dick, man. Come on. I was getting there. And his name's the Truth. Anyhow:

• DK. Coach, DK. He back.
• I know I don't need to tell you what this does for our defense. On a team with CBs who might make one serviceable play a game, ol' DK becomes the most important component of our schemes. Our offense is gonna move the ball. Our front seven does well against the run. But when guys like Kodi Burns and Chris Smelley can have career days against us, finding a solution to our pass defense woes is the single most important aspect of our gameplans. And DK is the answer there. Now I know he claims to be only at 85%, but "getting better" as he plays on it. I'm no doctor, Coach, but I'm pretty sure that's not how a stress fracture in your foot works. I guess what I'm saying is, if I ruled the earf, DK wouldn't have played until next week. BUT, the fact that he's back and healthy and making sacks and even INTs (?), bodes very, very well for our team. Doesn't matter that he did it against Kinsmon Lancaster. He made the Angel Timothy cry, remember? Just make sure he remembers his shoes next week. Please.

HN: That's good Frebs, but what about my offense?

• 350 yards is 350 yards, Houston. Let's not sleep on the fact that we ran for 350 yards on Saturday. There's only 60 minutes in a game, you know. I mean, did you ever play NCAA on like the super-easy mode just to try to build up those arbitrary points you got at the end of each game. Like "5 points for sacking the QB 3 times" and stuff like that. Well some of the tasks you had to try to get were just so ludicrously hard that I could never get them, even with like USC against Akron on super-easy mode. I'm pretty sure rushing for 350 yards was one of those. Again, check plus. Also, let's keep Dex back there. Run all 4 of them from the TB. I don't care if they each end up with 45 yards apiece. It works.
  

HN: I'd whip your ass at NCAA.

FR: That's enough outta you Hootie. Remind me to tell you about ol' George Teague. Anyhow

• The best part about this win is that it went just as planned. We made it through. No one got hurt. There was no drama or letdown that might cause added emotional baggage as we go into one of the most difficult venues in the nation next week. I don't know how much you know about this rivalry, bu

HN: You mean the Magnolia Bowl? What a buttarded ass name for a rivalry game.

FR: I agree but please don't interrupt, K?

• Like I was saying, this rivalry is paramount to us. It is probably the single most important three hour stretch in the Forward Rebs's calendar year. It can ruin an otherwise great 365 day span, or rectify an otherwise abysmal one. So we didn't need any distractions heading into it. Now the last time we went to Death V...

HN: Yeah listen kid the last time I was in Death Valley I got dat wood, aight. I'm audi 3000. Thanks and giggity.