Bo Gets Bighoused: An Explanation Worthy of a Few “F” Words

Posted: November 22, 2011 in Sports
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Don’t point the finger, point the thumb.” – Bo Pelini

How many thumbs do you have?” – Chris Hatch, while cussing at an HD-TV in his living room

College Gameday is my favorite show on ESPN.  I’m enough of a sports junkie to watch pretty much anything they put on, other than the patently horrendous Dan Le Batard is Highly Questionable (*Author’s note: this schlock-fest features the title journalist giggling like a stoner 3 bong-rips deep at his Dad, who is inexplicably featured on the show despite having little to no knowledge of sports and only making comments that only his own progeny could find amusing), but the crown jewel in the media coverage of my favorite sport is offered up on Saturday mornings by Brad Nessler, Kirk Herbstreit, Desmond Howard and the incomparable Lee Corso.

At the end of each show, having spent 2 hours breaking down games and storylines across the country, Corso makes the final pick of the day.  He does so, in a tradition revered by the college-football-mad-masses, by putting on a mascot head of the team he chooses to win.  On Saturday, at the University of Houston’s campus, moments before Corso pulled the big reveal, he was swept away in a spirit of wild fervor and shouted out, “F— it!” as he threw the other team’s mascot to the ground and tossed on a cougar head.

DVR was invented for moments like that.  I kept skipping back to watch and enjoy. 

As a frequent purveyor of F-bombs, I thought it was just a funny moment where an overzealous fan of the sport let his swear-word-cup runneth over.  What I didn’t realize was that, with that comment, Lee Corso was summarizing the day for much of Husker Nation.

It became a rallying cry of an angst-ridden, frustrated Husker Nation on Saturday.  Now I’ll be breaking down who said, “F— it!” and what it meant when they did.

Wide Receivers Get Free College in Exchange For Catching the Ball. . . They Say “F— it!”

The wide receiving corps, given the amazing luxury of not going up to their eye-black in instantaneous, debilitating debt by attempting to pay for the extortion that is a college education, are asked to do several things when they step onto a football field.  Chief among these duties?  Catching the damn ball. 

I understand that being a wide receiver for Taylor Martinez is like being Axl Rose’s sobriety coach.  You’re constantly struggling, never know what you might be getting on a day-to-day basis, and there is always the potential for a massive and horrendous relapse.  But when the time comes, and you find yourself open downfield and see a crisp, on-time, accurate ball zinging your way from number three’s gloved hand?  When the Husker version of Axl rose is suddenly hitting his growling, wailing high notes during “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” and is slaying it?  You have to catch the ball.

Defense Has Blackshirts and Knows the Season is on the Brink. . . They say “F— it!”

I know the defense is beat up.  I get that we’re probably scouring the cafeteria line for any dude hefty enough to go for the uncoveted “Freshman 65” weight gain just so we can tear the extra crispy chicken wing out of his hand, slap a helmet on him and plug him into the vacuum that has developed on the defensive line.  I understand that the secondary is young and inexperienced (*Author’s note: read: they’re dirt) but getting Blitzkrieged through the air and Pattoned on the ground in front of another national television audience is unacceptable.

The defense looked uninspired.  The Pelini Bros., all fire and brimstone had a defense that played like they had fired up a blunt and gotten stoned.  Lethargy spread across the defensive line like a communicable disease in Cancun during Spring Break.  The linebackers, the one bright spot defensively on a day that was mostly spent in a kind of pitch-darkness reserved for clinical sleep studies, played well — David had an insane 17 tackles and Compton put up a serviceable 6 — but it simply wasn’t enough to stop the Wolverines from racking up 238 yards on the ground.

The Special Teams, Once a Bastion of Strength and Reliability. . . Said “F— it!”

Alright, well reliability isn’t exactly the right word.  But Ameer Abdullah was an exciting returner in a position that has, as of late, lacked any viable threat and the kicking game has been good-to-great for most of the year.  Then Saturday happened.  Kenny Bell, recently moved back as a return man, fumbled once and the usually sure-handed Tim Marlowe fumbled once as well.  They were coughing up more balls than a hooker during an asthma attack. (*Author’s note: Inappropriate?  Probably.  True?  Definitely.)

Bo. . .Pretty Much Just Straight Up Said, “F— it!”

Actually, “F— you!” would probably be more accurate.  More accurate still would be, “F— the haters!”  Bo, a longtime F-bomb wordsmith of the highest order simply seemed like he didn’t give one on Saturday.  The team came out unprepared and got destroyed.  When a few turnovers and a few tough plays reared their ugly, dreadlocked head?  The Huskers crumbled.  They didn’t play like a team that “plays better on the road” as some have suggested.  They didn’t play like a team that knew it was now or never or a team that has been steadily improving or a team that had found their identity.  They barely played at all.

Bo, as Bo is apt to do, didn’t point the finger he pointed the thumb.  In this case he pointed the thumb at his team like some weird, accusatory hitchhiker.  Here are some of Bo Pelini’s post-game quotes with a breakdown of what he’s actually saying underneath in bold.

“We can’t play that way on the road and expect to win a football game. The penalties, the turnovers, all the things that we preach and what we were doing well we weren’t doing today. There’s your result.”

–  “It wasn’t my fault.  When I always talk about ‘executing the gameplan’ that’s coach speak for, ‘what I put in place would work if the players didn’t suck.’ F— it.”

”  . . . Dropping a punt, not blocking well, you can’t do those things. I don’t know why we dropped the ball. I thought out guys were ready to play. I don’t have the answer as to why we put the ball on the ground twice in the second half. That wasn’t the right call on roughing the punter.”

–  “Even though I should’ve fired Barney Cotton last year, I am kind of a panty-waist when it comes to firing people from my staff.  Ask Shawn Watson who I didn’t technically fire even though he was utterly incompetent.  Did I mention that this was the players’ fault?  Because I’d like to make that perfectly, subliminally clear.  Also it was the ref’s fault that our defense was terrible.  F— it!”

(*Author’s note: that roughing the punter call was completely bogus.  Don’t think I’m excusing what amounted to one of the shittiest reffed games of the year, but I think at this point Bo should take that hitchhiking digit and point it squarely at himself)

And Finally. . .

The Young Guys On Our Team Who We Definitely Should’ve Redshirted. . . Are Probably Going to Say “F— it!” to the Team Next Year

Think about this: let’s say you’re an aspiring young actor.  You haven’t been in any blockbusters or critically acclaimed smashes yet, but you’re starting to generate a healthy amount of buzz.  You have some really good chops and the movie roles are starting to pile up at your doorstep. 

A director/producer comes to you and says, “Listen, (insert actor name here), you’re really good.  You just need a film to really break out in.  I’ve got that film.  I’ve got that role.  But we need you right now.  You’ll have to wait on the other films, put those other projects on hold to come here and do this with me.  It’ll be a gamechanger.”

Of course you say yes.  Then when you arrive on set, bright-eyed and ready to get your DeNiro on, the director/producer says, “Great.  You’re here.  You’ll be an extra in this scene.  You won’t get any speaking parts, but if you do a really good job, you might get to deliver one line in a scene where you order a sandwich at the deli.”

That’s Jamal Turner.

Would you stick around, or would you say, “F— it?”



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