Former Notre Dame QB, Everett Golson, is looking to take his talents to another school. Golson is looking to transfer for his final year of eligibility and, since he has graduated, he will not have to sit out a year.
Where is Golson looking to go? There are lists everywhere that have him linked to programs from coast to coast, but news has recently surfaced of Golson taking trips to visit both Florida and Florida state. Where will he end up? Seemingly somewhere warmer than South Bend, IN and seemingly somewhere he can start. While either FSU or the U of F fit the mold, it appears Golson is having trouble deciding where to go.
So, what do a lot of young people making a big decision in their life use? A simple “Pros & Cons” table to sort through the benefits and the detractions of whichever agonizing options they are facing. Golson is no different. Pictured below are his attempts to sort out the Pros and Cons of going to either FSU or Florida.
What did I miss? It’s Everett Golson transfer mania, people! Where’s he going? Where should he go? Chime in. . .
It was October in Nebraska. The leaves were beginning to catch fire, leaf kindling leaping to autumnal flame, and the air only just starting to whisper quietly about the winter yet to come. The kind of fall evening where the setting sun turns the light to gold leaf that could make King Midas jealous and plates the air in a quiet brilliance.
Out came the cooler, the chairs, and the holy grail of youthful campouts: the s’mores supplies. My family and my best friend and I were at Pioneer’s park. Night was just beginning its warmup laps around our prairie sky, darkness kissing the edges of the vast expanse above us, and we had come to stay until darkness. With a crackling, we fired up the portable radio, battered black edges sliding along the equally requisite and equally dented aluminum picnic table near the fire ring.
Scanning through country tracks from pre-Chris Gaines Garth and past the sounds of a pop music blasting pre-crazy Britney, we landed on the right station. The motherload. The Husker broadcast. We maxed out the tinny, small speakers so we could throw our own Nerf football while listening to the sounds of the game. I don’t remember the other broadcasters voices, not now and not clearly anyway, but I do remember Adrian Fiala. His voice’s unmistakable timbre, auditory pointillism dotting out each important moment, expanding though the night air like the smoke from our Journal Star clippings as they sparked our wood to a blaze.
We were young and it was Saturday. Life itself was not to be pondered. Not while there was a game blasting, a fire going, and football in the air. Not while Adrian Fiala was talking.
Image courtesy of: netnebraska.org
On Monday afternoon the radio clicked off.
The voice, that iconic deep-chested rumble, came to a stop.
On Monday afternoon, Adrian Fiala passed away.
I didn’t know Adrian Fiala personally. He probably has no idea that he impacted my life in a small way; that his gilded baritone voice lacquered many a Husker Saturday for me, enhancing the product beneath but not ever trying to change it completely. He probably doesn’t know that, when the Huskers played a severely overmatched opponent and the pay-per-view games were too pricey for my parents, I would crank my parents’ cable dial way up to the pay-per-view channel in an attempt to watch the scrambled lines of distorted gamedays even though we hadn’t paid for it and I would listen to him explain the shifting patterns as I desperately tried to make out whether that was actually Scott Frost running with the ball or not.
I didn’t know Adrian Fiala. But he did know me.
He knew me because he knew Nebraska. He knew me because he knew the players and he knew the tradition. But above all, he knew the fans. He knew that the blood in our veins had a particular hue to it that can only truly be described if you’re seated in Memorial Stadium on a crisp fall day in the capital city of Nebraska. And he knew how to describe exactly that. To crystallize a moment in a game and blend it with his football-mind and tumble out words like a timpani drum roll. Regal and majestic.
When silence was called for, Adrian Fiala let it reign. His silence over the air waves of my youth were just a momentous as his voice. When Fiala let a moment simmer, you didn’t taste the stew until he was ready to ladle it back out again. And that was how it went. In a time of blurry pictures and pay-per-view games that were out of my parents’ price point: Adrian Fiala’s voice was high-definition. It was slow-motion replay. It was all the things that make nostalgia and sports blend together into a fine wine that ages gracefully and with dignity.
I’m no longer young. And life is now, certainly, open to be pondered. But one thing is for certain: come Saturdays in the fall, Adrian Fiala’s voice won’t be gone. It will be remembered in the breathless recanting of a die-hard sports fan as he passionately remembers Fiala’s voice launching him into his traditional Saturday sprint into the front yard to celebrate a Husker touchdown, rocket-fuel for the youthful fan. It will sound in the hearts and minds of those who loved him and knew him and were touched by his love in FM, AM, and in real life encounters.
On Monday afternoon, the radio clicked off.
On Monday afternoon, that iconic voice – braille to a generation of fans that could not see the action on the field – came to a stop.
But make no mistake: that voice, the voice, will continue to echo for quite some time.
The championship is finally here, college football fans. After two absurd, epic, playoff games last weekend we’ve somehow got one more amazing game to watch. While we don’t have Jameis or Saban to collectively loathe as a nation, there are plenty of other interesting storylines to keep your eyes peeled for during tonight’s title matchup. I’m sure you’re aware of Mariota and his connection to the Samoan people, and of Cardale Jones’ long-awaited chance at the spotlight. There will be pieces on Oregon’s uniforms and Urban’s health. There will be blow-hards blowing hard and hype immeasurable.
Since I’m sure at this point you’ve probably found yourself inundated with 74 of these lists from other websites, I’ll try to focus on the weirder, less well-tread areas of this title game. The other storylines.
1. Keep your eyes peeled for the most important cog in the Oregon offensive machine: this guy.
Yes. That dude. Not Marcus Mariota. Not Mark Helfrich. Not Royce Freeman or the insane system that snaps faster than a tweenage girl post-diss with her fingers attitudinally thrust skyward. Nope. It’s the ball boy. He’s throwing out balls faster than a jugs machine, sprinting down the sidelines like some kind of Kid ‘N Play doppelgänger that’s late for his house party. What color will the left chunk of his flat top be this time? Is Marge Simpson his spirit animal? When a flat-top gets that tall and majestic, shouldn’t we call that a plateau? I can’t wait to answer all of these questions tonight when we get to see this dude’s plateau hauling ass down the sidelines.
2. Urban Meyer Pizza Watch: The Mood is Tense!
Urban Meyer can coach his ass off. That is, in spite of what I wish personally, an irrefutable fact. He’s taken two different teams to the pinnacle of college football and appears poised to win his third national title in spite of starting his third string quarterback at the most crucial juncture of the year. As much as I wish there was anything to say about Meyer’s coaching, it’s pretty much unassailable. So what do you do when a coach is at the top of his game and you’re bitter and jealous? CHEAP SHOTS!!!!!! Which I thoroughly love.
So I’ll just leave this picture here:
Image Courtesy of: nextimpulsesports.com
And I’ll just root like hell for the Ducks to win the big one so that I can make a bunch of Urban Meyer pizza jokes. (*Author’s note: in case you somehow missed my all-time favorite college football sports meme, Urban was spotted looking utterly depressed while crushing some cold Papa John’s in the bowels of a stadium after losing to Michigan State in the Big 10 Title game a year ago.) If the Buckeyes, lose will Urb get a quick call out to his favorite pizza joint? Will he plant ass in the loving, gluteal, embrace of a plastic golf cart seat to dejectedly smash some hamburger pie and garlic sauce? Man, do I hope so.
(*Author’s note: Some thoughts on what he might order below.)
3. Whose parents and/or hot girlfriend will be discovered by ESPN on the sidelines and shown incessantly until we’re all driven mad by overexposure put together a change.org petition to have them deported?
We all remember the notorious Webburger (*Author’s note: the Hollywood power couple nickname I coined for star cross’d lovers, Katherine Webb and Brent Musburger) incident from the 2013 National Championship game. In a time before GIFs were considered a primary means of communication, and before Vine was permanently loop-mode-tattooing images onto our cerebral cortexes we had ESPN producers repeatedly shouting “Now, get me another reaction shot from ______’s Mom in the stands! Again! Now AGAIN!” at their crew in the production truck outside of National Championship Football Games. While our method of comsumption may have changed, that simple act of repetition has not.
Will they find Marcus Mariota’s mother and give us a visual to all that alliteration? Will Urban Meyer’s wife get caught looking nauseous on the sidelines? As soon as they’re spotted, these women or men or absurdly attractive girlfriends will begin their assault on the Magic-Lupe Line of demarcation. (*Author’s note: The Magic-Lupe line of demarcation is a media overexposure index that allows us to measure the maximum amount of obnoxious reaction shots that a sports network will show during a specific sporting event. Shown here are three of the highest scores ever. Many have tried, none have yet succeeded, to top the scores provided by any Michigan State Basketball game that is attended by Tom Izzo’s wife, Lupe, and famous alum Magic Johnson.)
4. How many Mighty Ducks references can America make during tonight’s game?
— Is Mark Helfrich going to run “The Flying V” tonight?
— What this team needs right now is Gordon Bombay to rally the troops with a moving halftime speech.
— I haven’t been this crunk for a game involving the ducks since Kenan Thompson was sneaking into a goalie outfit to totally PWN Iceland.
— If the kicker shanks one? Just call that a knucklepuck.
— Anytime there’s a big hit? Bash brothers.
— Ducks fly together!
— Mariota may be good, but he’s no Charlie Conway.
— If Oregon gets a safety I’m definitely calling it “D2: Mighty Ducks.”
I’m exhausted. And those aren’t even funny. I just thought I should try to get as many of them out of my system as possible before tonight so I don’t make every one of my followers block me on Twitter. (*Author’s note: but feel free to leave some more terrible puns in the comments on tweet them to me. I don’t get tired of bad jokes. Usually because I’m the one making them.)
5. Will Ohio State QB Cardale Jones Continue his stunning metamorphosis. . .into Ohio State’s Valedictorian?
Here’s what Cardale had to say about school back in 2012.
Which is a hilariously ironic, if fairly normal thing, for a “Student” athlete to say. In fact, I remember penning an open letter to Wichita State during my brief time there as an athlete, comparing my pre-requisite classes to getting an HJ from some kind of wild jungle primate. This was pre-social media, a non-revenue generating sport, and I was so far from the abilities and athleticism of Jones that it’s borderline insane. In short, I know Cardale Jones. I have watched Cardale Jones. And I, sir, am no Cardale Jones.
However, what we’ve seen from Cardale this CFB postseason is nothing short of spectacular. And I’m not talking about sports. Here’s what Cardale Jones, academic, thinks about playing school now:
Image courtesy of: sbnation.com
Now that is something the NCAA should be proud of. I’m betting that this is exactly why Mark Emmert makes a $1.7 million base salary. Forget the politicians. This, this is change we can believe in! #TeamEmmert! (*Author’s note: just checked and, for whatever reason, that isn’t trending on Twitter. Weird.)
6. Will Oregon’s Prize recruit be on their sidelines to give the team a super motivational speech and a massive PR boost?
“Make sure you keep the lid on all the Gatorades and whatever you do — whatever you do — make sure you only take your pre-game pill regimen from the trainers.” – Mark Helfrich, when prize recruit Cosby comes by the team lockers for a visit.
Also, I think I speak for all of us when I say I’m a little surprised to see Bill reppin’ Oregon: I had him pegged as more of a Florida State fan.
On November 30, 2014 Nebraska head football coach Bo Pelini was fired. Two days later he held a closed-door meeting with a group of his former players. The audio of what he said was leaked to the media and has made waves throughout the state. The Omaha World Herald recently released the audio version they heard of the coach ripping into the University and the athletic department.
Here’s the Bo Pelini audio they didn’t release. The extra raw audio.
(*Author’s note: We’ve included the lyrics below, to assist with understanding Bo’s nasty rhymes.)
Straight outta Youngstown, crazy motherfucker named Bo P Call me Grumpy and my brother be Dopey
When I’m pissed off I shoot my lips off
Favorite finger is the middle one that flips off
I’m out son, so who’s coming with me
To Youngstown State with no Hate, and an AD
Who knows football, man, this dude’s the best
He’s always looking so sexy in his sweatervest
MC Pelini and I’m spitting hot fire
If you come around my ass, I’m gonna frisk you for a wire
Shots fired at Eich, man, I’m bustin’ like a Gat
Called him a pussy I ain’t talkin’ bout my cat
So. . . step it up, now, Harv
Bring your turkey ass up because it’s time for me to carve
I’ll tell the whole university to grab on deeze
But mad respect for you if you repping McD’s
Crewneck and a flat bill hat
Chompin on my gum like I’m Ozzie with a bat
And Eichorst? He never want us to win
With beady ass eyes and his pastie skin
In abandoning ship, so good luck with your wreck Miss Eichorst’d sure look pretty in my used Crewneck. Youngstown State will be on the attack I’m the white D’Angelo, time for a comeback. If you’re a Beaver-loving hippy from Oregon, better duck Cause I got 9 wins and zero fucks. On my gum, yo, chompin’ with a frown But when I come back boy, I’m coming straight outta Youngstown
Straight outta Youngstown, another crazy ass verse
Back to haunt your team like the Bieber Curse
Got a closet full of Khakis for all my outfit switches
To all you snitches, you know you’re getting stitches
Call me honkie LeBron, ‘Cause I’m goin’ Home
Got a team to coach, where my mouth can foam
A school where the AD doesn’t dress in skirts
And nobody gives a fuck about the color of your shirts
Yo, Ryker? Let’s go cause some strife
And if we get convicted, I’m pleading the Fyfe
And to JP? I’m really gonna miss you
It was never my intent to hurt or diss you
Forgive me son, for I know not what I do
But for old time’s sake, here’s one last fuck you!
Done pointing thumbs, it’s time to point a finger
Perlman brought in Eich as a motherfuckin’ ringer
Beat so dope makin’ all the ladies Twerk
And as for you, Chatelain you can suck my Dirk
Put your ass in full nelson like Jordy
Go ahead, come at me, I’m a man I’m 40
‘Comin for you suckers like I’m Raid for a Roach
Might just make T-Magic my next QB coach
Even though I got the axe I still got it made
150K a month, Your boy is gettin’ paid
Blah, blah, blah, the glories in the deed
I’m using my buyout money to help Carl buy some weed
Got money on money, like I’m Richie Rich
Now I’m outtie, to make the FCS my bitch
Straight outta Youngstown.
We only got through half the year and your intrepid author had to take a long, gasping breather, huffing into a paper bag in an effort to quell my journalistic hyperventilation. Where’d I get the paper bag you ask? It’s from the 40 I’m drinking to try to calm my nerves from having just endured the second craziest sports year on record. Strap up, pour one out for the homies who didn’t survive the first 2500 words and let’s finish strong!
July
LeBrontourage, Season 8 Takes a Surprising Twist
2014 was, without a doubt, the Summer of LeBron. With teams from all over swooping in to make a play for the best player in the NBA, offering everything from personnel power to unborn children to unlimited supplies of hair plugs, the King was inundated with interest from around the league. Ultimately he chose to go home, penning an open letter-style piece in Sports Illustrated (*Author’s note: PRINT JOURNALISM STAND UP!) about how this decision was about more than basketball for him. Cleveland promptly went ape-shit crazy, traded both of their utterly absurd back-to-back #1 draft picks to Minnesota and came away with Kevin Love and the core of a new “Big 3” for LeBron. When the news broke, a panicked Chris Bosh immediately went looking for LeBron in the Heat’s team kitchen.
Once the LeBron domino fell, it triggered a slew of other free agent moves by the reactive NBA GMs as they all scrambled to find the next best thing. The Heat had a bit of a rough July. In fact, here was a heat map I created to show just how things went for the once-great “Heatles.”
The Lakers Keep Interviewing Byron Scott and keep interviewing Byron Scott and keepinterviewingbyronscott
The news broke in late July that the Lakers were calling in potential head coach Byron Scott for his third interview. In typical Laker fashion, they had taken something that appeared relatively simple (*Author’s note: just give Phil Jackson whatever he wants to coach and/or GM the hell out of the team) and bungled and botched it with reckless abandon. It begged the question: what the hell are they asking Byron Scott in interview #3 that they didn’t think of the first time around? Eventually, Scott was hired on and the Lakers rapidly devolved into a suicide charge with Kobe Bean Bryant screaming and waving his bayonet at the front of the line as they stumbled and lurched their way towards another lottery pick.
Johnny Manziel, Limp Bizkit Superfan, keeps Rollin’, Rollin’, Rollin’
This July Johnny Manziel was, predictably, the center of a lot of 2014-style weirdness. There was a constant stream of selfies and tabloid bombs were dropped virtually every day. *Boom* Here’s Manziel with the Biebs. *Boom* looks like Manziel was drunker than the guys from The Hangover last night. Essentially, he was doing exactly what I would’ve done if I was filthy rich, famous, and 22-years-old. He was being an A-hole. But when a photo emerged of the Browns QB in a Las Vegas nightclub appearing to be in the process of rolling a dollar bill, things got really strange. Why was Johnny football rolling up a bill? (*Author’s note: here’s where all the Browns fans simultaneously pray “please say there was a vending machine in there. . .please say there was a vending machine in there. . .”)
There’s really only one thing you use a dead-president-tube for and it’s not sipping choco milk out of your kiddie cup. Hey, you might be saying, let’s not jump to conclusions, here. It’s a bathroom in a nightclub in Vegas. That’s one book you can judge by its cover.
And speaking of weird bathroom photos that blew up all over the internet in 2014. . .
August
Jerry Jones Appears to Misinterpret the “Sex” Part of the “Unisex” Bathroom
Johnny wasn’t the only one having fun in the bathroom in 2014. Oh, no. Cowboys owner Jerry Jones apparently had a pretty good time rolling up something of his own in the Boys room this year. When photos emerged of Jerry Jones either groping women — or performing amateur, temporary, breast augmentations for the women of Dallas — the Internet turned into a torrent of hilarity. That a filthy rich old man may be a filthy old man isn’t particularly earth-shattering, but in true 2014 fashion the guy that broke the story turned out to also be completely bat-shit insane.
LeGarette Blount and Le’Veon Bell Get Caught Smoking We’ed
Yes. It will always be funny when a guy whose name sounds like a device used for smoking a drug gets caught smoking that drug. Also, it would appear that Le’Veon Bell’s use of mari’juana has le’d him to his be’st season ever. Ta’ke that, the w’ar on dr’ugs. Also, I would totally watch a stoner comedy show called Bell & Blount on IFC if it existed.
Josh Shaw Saves a Drowning Victim, Victim Turns Out to Be Manti Te’o’s Dead Girlfriend
Josh Shaw is a defensive back at USC. He made headlines this August after he injured his ankles, leaping from a balcony to save his drowning nephew. Except that wasn’t exactly how it went down. As it turns out, Shaw was less Baywatch-David-Hasselhoff – saving innocents from drowning in the sun-drenched pools of Sourthern California – and more drunken-cheeseburger-crushing-David-Hasselhoff. While we’re not entirely sure what happened, causing the one-time USC Captain to sprain both ankles, it certainly wasn’t anything as heroic as saving someone from drowning. It was just a weird excuse that blew up in Shaw’s face, getting him suspended for the bulk of the season by new head coach Steve Sarkisian.
Stephon Marbury Stars in his Own Chinese Musical
ALSD:KFJSDF:LSDKFJW:LEFRWE:LKRJWHELKJFHJSLKDJFSLDKFHSEWLKJFRELWKJHSLKDFJHSDLKFJHESLKFJ. Just look at that clip!?!??! S:LDKFJSDL:FKHELWKJWKLEGJHSDKLHS. I. Can’t. SDL:KFJSELKFJEWKFWEJKWLFJEL:KFJ. (*Author’s note: Maybe 2014 is gaining on 2013 as weirdest sports year ever?)
September
Mike Tyson and Rob Ford Meet Up to Bro Around Toronto, Tear a Gaping Hole Into Space-Time Continuum
image courtesy of: torontosun.com
Have you ever seen a picture that’s too funny. Like, you can’t even form vowel sounds (let alone words) when you’re looking at it. You feel yourself being pulled forward, optically black-holed in and before you know if you’ve got drool spilling over a corner of your mouth and 15 minutes have. That’s what happened to me with this picture. No memes necessary. No jokes that could top the fact that this is a very real, very un-photoshopped encounter. This is 2014. This is what the internet was invented for. Thank you, Al Gore.
Ray Rice’s Video is Released
Earlier in the year, news of Ray Rice’s domestic assault in an Atlantic City casino had broken and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell reacted by really dropping the hammer. No, seriously. He dropped the hammer, picked up a ruler, and slapped Rice on the wrist. Rice got a two-game suspension and the NFL believed they had dodged another PR bullet. That is until the somehow-always-relevant-because-2014-is-really-f-ing-weird TMZ was able to obtain and release video footage of Rice, giving us images to go along with the text on a page. Some pictures are worth a thousand words. This one was worth millions. And they were angry words. Directed at the NFL. And more importantly they were directed at the NFL’s wallet.
Goodell immediately slammed on the brakes and attempted to back pedal with all the rapidity of a DB dropping into coverage. Rice was suspended indefinitely (*Author’s note: a punishment which has since been overturned upon appeal), the Ravens cut him from their rosters, and Goodell Butt-fumbled his way into a PR nightmare. It was ugly. And terrible. And sad. And the kind of weird that shouldn’t be around in 2014 but still persists.
Speaking of guys who wished they were dead in 2014. . .
Arkansas State Player Fakes His Own Death During Fake Punt
In what I would argue was the play of the year, an Arkansas State player faked his own demise in an effort to draw attention away from his team’s ill-fated fake punt. How did they draw that up on the chalkboard at Ark State?
49ers Intern Equipment Guy, and Self-Proclaimed “Bro”, Uses His Stunning Hair to Land Gig Officiating Friends’ Wedding
Why does this matter? How is this a story? Here’s a closeup of what “The Bro” looks like:
This is 2014. It’s a story: because a 49ers fan like me can follow an intern equipment guy that works for my favorite NFL franchise on Twitter, strictly because he’s the most absurd-looking dude on any sideline anywhere, and he can take that flowing mane and facial pelt to a beach and marry his friends. That is why 2014 is amazing. Congratulations to the couple, by the way. For having the best mustachioed ceremony in history. Oh, and on your marriage, too.
October
Biggest Day in Mississippi Football Ever and Somehow Katy Perry Steals the Show
Image Courtesy of: grantland.com
On Saturday October 4th, the state of Mississippi had what was likely the biggest football-related day they’ve had since some kid decided you had to say their state’s name 5 times before you got to rush the quarterback in backyard football. Mississippi State defeated #6 Texas A&M and Ole Miss pulled off a shocking home upset of #3 Alabama. But all anyone could talk about was a potentially drunk Katy Perry, seemingly selected at random from a diverse pool of potential guest-pickers, showing up on College Gameday and hitting on Oklahoma’s quarterback, waving phallic corndogs all over the place, and generally pulling ridiculous faces. Why was she wearing a shirt that looked like it was handmade by some people working Jim Henson’s studio? Why did she bug her eyes out and dramatically reveal a corndog? Hopefully we’ll never know. It’s better that way.
The Walking Ned Just Won’t Die
I know there hasn’t been much baseball in the post so far. And, truthfully there’s only going to be a couple of entries surrounding it. I’m not usually much of a baseball guy. But I found myself compelled to leap with both feet onto the KC Royals’ massive bandwagon this postseason. They won in extra innings. They eeked out impossible victories. They were like zombies. They just. Wouldn’t. Die. They were. . .the Walking Ned. Finally they met their match, falling in Game 7 of the World Series to the San Francisco Giants and the absurd Madison Bumgarner. We’ll see if they can duplicate the success, but it was fun finding myself intrigued by baseball in October again.
And speaking of the world series, let’s take a look at the weirdness of the World Series MVP. . .
(*Author’s note: no, not that MVP. I mean this MVP.)
Chevy Guy Becomes the MVP of the World Series
A fumbling, bumbling, botched attempt to perform Chevy’s obnoxious corporate-sponsor plug led to the wide-spread internet enjoyment. Thanks, Chevy guy. For giving us all something to laugh about. And stuff.
TCU Defense Continues to Pound it, Really Giving It To Opponents. Hard.
TCU’s season started off strong and blah, blah, blah. They’re defensive coordinator is named DICK BUMPAS?!?!?!? His name and his mustache have to be taken directly from the set of Boogie Nights. I mean, wouldn’t you just go by “Richard”? (*Author’s note: if you’re going to Google him, just be very careful with your typing.)
Man With Tom Brady Helmet Tattooed on his Head is Arrested for Insider Trading
Okay, it was actually drug possession. But I’m sure you knew that already.
November
The Curse of The Biebs Strikes Again
Justin Bieber has long been a highly visible presence in the sports world. From his attending and competing in the All-Star celebrity basketball challenge during NBA All-Star Weekend, to his courtside seats for Heat games in Miami, The Biebs loves him some sports. But there has been a theory developed recently, an insidious, dark, heart-stoppingly terrifying conspiracy that has begun circulating about our beloved Justin Drew Bieber: that he is cursed. The Biebs is reverse Midas-touching sports franchises all over the globe, his mere presence appearing to doom the Spanish National team, the Miami Heat, and now the Pittsburgh Steelers. Is it real? Man, do I hope so.
Melvin Gordon Breaks the NCAA Single-Game Rushing Record, His Reign Lasts 1 Week
That’s actual footage of Melvin Gordon playing against Nebraska. It was that bad. Melvin was treating the Huskers he was Dom Toretto and was living his life a quarter mile at a time. Yeah, he went for that many yards on us. He broke the NCAA Single game rushing mark. . .in 3 quarters. Then he just kind of sat back and chilled, watching the Huskers continue to explode like a hastily thrown Molotov Cocktail, content to know that he would be the record holder for a long time to come. After all, it had been since 1999 that anyone had gone for four hundy in a game. This one would be safe for quite a long, long wh– what’s that you say? It’s already been shattered? Immediately? Turns out, Oklahoma freshman Samaje Perine broke Gordon’s short-lived record the following weekend, posting 427 yards against Kansas. Weird.
Kobe defiantly took over the all-time miss lead, having bricked 13,418 shots. He did that by averaging 10.7 misses per game over his lengthy career. Somehow, I love Kobe Bryant more when he’s shooting 7-20 and talking trash to little children on the sidelines. Is it just me, or does the NBA need Kobe just as much as Kobe needs the NBA right now?
Will Muschamp and Bo Pelini Get Canned
Image Courtesy of latimes.com
Both Nebraska head coach Bo Pelini and his counterpart at Florida were fired in November. Both have since taken jobs at places that seemed better suited to their personalities. The fiery, disgusted-with-media Pelini will now be coaching at Youngstown State, where he should be out of the fishbowl of Lincoln, Nebraska. Will Mushcamp will now go back to his lucrative career as a Bill Callahan body double.
Brady Hoke Gets Fired, Probably Can’t Hear the Announcement Because His Headset is Too Loud
Image courtesy of: usatoday.com
And now, a scene from my upcoming Broadway musical, Up in Hoke
FADE IN:
INTERIOR:A dark coach’s office. There’s an empty box of Dunkin Doughnuts on a cluttered desk. Up against one wall there is a series of bins for incoming mail. A huge stack of mail pokes out of the bin labeled “Stuff that was actually supposed to be for Artie Lange.” The “Fan Mail” slot is conspicuously empty and has cobwebs covering its entrance. In a corner of the darkened office, Brady Hoke is feverishly struggling to open a wrapped box containing a Blue Tooth headset.
Michigan interim Athletic Director, Jim Hackett, enters the room.
Startled by this intrusion, Hoke lets out a wild, panicked noise. The sound that comes out can only be described as “Winnie the Pooh getting prison-shanked.”
Hoke
Blllllargh!
He drops the box clumsily to the floor.
Hackett
(Smiling evilly)
Sorry, Brady. I didn’t mean to startle you. Were you. . .busy?
Hoke
(Fumbling over his words)
I—uh. . .I’m just working on. Headset. Look, I know you guys wanted me to wear a headset. So I’m just. . .
(He trails off)
Hoke finally gets the box open and pulls out the headset. Grinning, he puts the ear piece in and points to it jovially.
Hackett
(Shaking his head)
Listen, Brady. There’s no nice way to put this. You’re fired.
Hoke
I can’t hear you. Because I’ve got the headset in. See how bad they disrupt communication? See?!?!
Hackett
Brady, I know you can hear me—
Hoke
It’s. The. Headset. Too loud!
FADE OUT
Chugging Beer and Running Hard, Not Just For College Students Running From the Cops Anymore
Image Courtesy of flotrack.org
The first ever Beer Mile World Championships were held in Austin this year. I know what you’re thinking. Finally a way to combine elite level athletes with heavy drinking. About time. (*Author’s note: What?!? Am I the only one who would love to watch phenomenal athletes compete in drinking games? I highly doubt it. Start posting Kobe’s beer pong games to YouTube, the NBA. Please.) It was captivating, finally getting to watch the athletes drink right along with the spectators. For once, I wasn’t the only one chugging a beer and watching a sporting event. The athletes were doing the same thing! Audience participation! Corey Gallagher, a chug-happy Canadian with an incredible ability to house beers after running long distances, won the inaugural event. He was kind enough to give No Coast Bias an interview about his traning, his chugging, and whether or not he still has to pay for drinks. What a wonderfully weird year. I love 2014.
Ryan Leaf Gets Out of Prison, Walks Directly Into Your Nightmares
image courtesy of: deadspin.com
What else needs to be said, really? I’m going to try to stop my spine from convulsing with shivers and move on as quickly as I can.
Toronto Raptors Star Lou Williams is Dating Two Women. . .Who are Dating Each Other
2014 definitely ranks as the second weirdest year ever. It’s so close to weirdness champion, 2013, that they are practically dating the same dude. And each other. What an insane ride it’s been so far. Chime in below, because I’m sure I missed some of the other weirdness the year had to offer.
Last year I went on record, declaring 2013 to be the weirdest sports year ever. I firmly believe that that will continue to hold up. But, damn, 2014 was a year for the record books, too. If 2013 was Wilt Chamberlain’s 100-point game, then 2014 is definitely Kobe’s 81-pointer.
I stand by my statement that Dennis Rodman, international peace-keeper and Manti Te’o, international catfished-doofus wil always hold down 2013 as the weirdest year ever, but 2014 came hard for that number one spot. Ladies and Gentleman of the jury, take a moment to stop live-tweeting events and let me present a month-by-month breakdown to you as to why 2014 was the second weirdest sports year in history.
January:
Richard Sherman yells, internet panic ensues!
The 49ers and the Seattle Seahawks really don’t like each other. When the two teams met on January 19th in the NFC Championship game, with the stakes at their highest and the lights at their brightest, one man somehow managed to single-handedly overshadow the entire game (*Author’s note: and a fantastic game, at that.) After making the play of the game and potentially the play of the year, outspoken defensive back Richard Sherman had something to say to Erin Andrews in his post-game interview.
Yes, it was Richard Sherman, professional blow hard. And he was blowing. Hard. He was blowing like Louis Armstrong in the middle of a wild solo at a packed Harlem Jazz club. The craziest part? He probably deserved to have that reaction. They shoved the mic into the face of a phenomenal shit-talker while he still had more adrenaline in his system than the post syringed-in-the-heart UMA Thurman in Pulp Fiction. It was just a strange scene, seeing him howl into the microphone like a WWE Heel who just bodyslammed the good guy through a table. Some hated it. Some loved it. Everyone had something to say about it. 2014 was picking right up where 2013 left off. By being weird as hell.
Nine Year Old Stars on her High School’s Varsity Basketball Team
During January, video surfaced of a ridiculous nine-year-old girl, all 4’7” of her, crossing up and driving by her high school basketball competition. It was Jaden Newman, the pint-sized University of Miami recruit, establishing dominance over girls twice her size and twice her age. When I was 9-years-old I was getting crunk about dinosaurs, crushing Surge, and trying to figure out how to make a bounce pass. The craziest part of this story? This somehow ended up being only the second weirdest “Jaden” related story of 2014.
Peyton Manning Shouts Omaha, Omaha Immediately Demonstrates Why It Can’t Have Nice Things
This is video of Peyton Manning’s favorite audible call. It’s the word “Omaha.” The nation became obsessed with the call, and the fact that Peyton was repeating it more than Mike Jones shouting his name back in 2005. But no one took more weird pleasure out of Peyton Manning’s favorite disc-skipping phrase than the city of Omaha, Nebraska. The Omaha Chamber of Commerce, believing that Peyton’s checks at the line would be met with checks in their pockets, vowed to donate money to his charity should the Broncos signal-caller continue to use their name and all of Nebraska — having little else to do in January, other than sit inside while winter bore down on them like a ravenous predator — stumbled all over themselves to fawn over having their name mentioned by a celebrity like a blushing high schooler named “Jane” seeing a Maroon 5 concert.
February
Super Bowl XLVIII is XLVIII Times Worse Than Anyone Thought It Would Be
Courtesy of: bleacherreport.com
We should’ve known that this game was doomed for unintentional comedy immediately after they had a pimp-coat wearing Joe Namath try to hijack the coin flip. The aforementioned Richard Sherman and Peyton Manning met up for Super Bowl XLVIII in a showdown, pitting the Broncos’ high-powered offense against the Seattle Seahwaks’ tough defense. A Lamborghini and a Hummer going toe to toe with millions upon millions of eyes watching and breaths being held captive. It was all Gone in 60 Seconds (*Author’s note: Hiiiiii-ooooh!) as the Broncos immediately botched their opening snap and proceeded to melt down into a steaming pile of high-def horse manure. The game ended up being 43-8 and even Joe Buck’s commentary seemed exciting by comparison. If you found yourself wishing that Beyoncé would show up and shut the power off on this one for a while to give your eyes a break from their corneal curb-stomping, you weren’t alone. Thank goodness for the weed jokes, or this would’ve been a complete waste of time.
The Eyes of Costas Are Upon You
Image courtesy of: Foxnews.com
In February, the Olympics swept across the sporting world. Pomp. Circumstance. And creepy, zombie-eyed Bob Costas. (*Author’s note: ever play that game, “One of these things is not like the other?”) In an Olympics full of plot-lines – corrupt Russian officials, poor athlete conditions, Shaun White’s pasty ass going for a repeat – Costas’ raging eye infection stole the show. It lead to a myriad of conspiracy theories on why the announcer looked so much like a stoned Mr. Peabody despite Bob’s insistence there was nothing malovelent about his eyes. Here was my theory, centering around Costas and Shaun White working as XXX-Style secret operatives in Russia to try to take out Edward Snowden, written out as a screenplay.
And speaking of stoner-eyes at the Olympics. . .
Olympic Skiier Torin Yater- Wallace Takes Our Hearts (And Approximately 13 Quarter Pounders From McDonald’s)
Photo courtesy of: Deadspin.com
At the Olympics, McDonald’s is known to offer up free grub to the athletes. They single handedly kept Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt alive when he was eating 100 McNuggets a day in Beijing. They slap their corporate logo on anything they can get their Ronald-loving hands on. And they provide the perfect eats for a clearly sticky-ickied up 18-year-old Olympian who’s looking for some major chow after blazing some Chron with the Russian ice dancer girls in an effort to get laid.
Marcus Smart Gives us Malice Jr.
Gif courtesy of: thebiglead.com
With Oklahoma State losing late in an early February game to lowly Texas Tech, one-time top-5 NBA lottery pick, Marcus Smart, became incensed by the taunting of a fat James Caan impersonator and went into the stands to give him a two-handed shove. We don’t know exactly what was said, but we do know that any man who doesn’t wear an undershirt beneath his XXXL sized polo can’t be trusted. Smart’s season continued to spiral downwards, getting suspended for his transgressions and slipping down in the draft after an inconsistent year with an under-achieving Cowboys team. (*Author’s note: the best part about this GIF? The lady on Faux-Caan’s left. She can’t stop pointing her finger. She points at Smart like she just fingered a mob boss for the prosecution in court on a soap opera. Outstanding.)
David Stern Retires
image courtesy of: usatoday.com
Although few believed this grizzled veteran commissioner would ever relinquish his iron-fisted rule over the NBA, at least not until he was 6-feet under the soil in a posh, cozy coffin, NBA Commish Stern willingly ceded his position atop the Iron Throne to his next-in-line apprentice, Adam Silver. Was this a case of game recognizing game? Was Stern such a big fan of the way Silver handled the “Targaryen Deal” that he felt compelled to promote him up to take charge of the league? (*Author’s note: If you’re unfamiliar with Adam Silver’s biggest business transaction as liutenant to Stern, see the below picture).
image courtesy of: ouchpress.com
March
Wichita State Continues Their Miraculous Run, Then Promptly Gets Screwed by NCAA Tournament Selection Committee
Image Courtesy of: stltoday.com
Wichita State’s undefeated season was one of the single most fascinating subplots of the 2013-2014 College Basketball season. An unlikely story, this band of permanently underrated players from the middle of the country somehow continuing to win and win some more, that planted itself somewhere between Thunderstruck and Like Mike on my BBI (*Author’s note: Basketball Believability Index). But the weirdest part of all? Somehow they got seed-screwed into playing Kentucky in the second round. Because, weirder still, was the fact that Kentucky was an eight seed. A MOTHER-FING EIGHT SEED. KENTUCKY?!?! However, it ended up being the game of the year, with the Wildcats prevailing down the stretch in spite of both Harrison twins somehow reminding me of LeVar Burton.
Oregon Proudly Introduces Their “Newest Recruit”, Celebrating by Cramming Him Into Their Extra Schmedium Sized Jersey
. . .as if Bill Cosby’s year could get any creepier, right? J-E-L-L-Nooooooo! You might want to do a background check on this “new recruit” before you let him on campus. Also, please make sure he’s in the all-male dormitory. Please.
Mongolian Sumo Wrestler Kakuryū Rikisaburō is promoted to yokozuna
Look, March was kind of a slow month, okay?
Minor League Baseball Team, The Kalamazoo Growlers, Announce They’ll Wear “Selfie Jerseys”
A really slow month. The Jerseys, which debuted in July were probably the most obnoxious uniforms I’ve ever seen. When a pitch came in high and tight and the manager shouted “Duck!” everyone just assumed he was talking about the girl pursing her lips to look like waterfowl on the batter’s left sleeve. (*Author’s note: Alright, so maybe I made that last part up.)
April
Former Florida Atlantic Coach, and Older Brother to Recently-Fired Nebraska Head Coach, Carl Pelini is Shopping a Book
Yes. Apparently Carl hasn’t only been rolling papers and smoking them. He’s been penning a novel. Not just a memoir or a sordid tell-all. This is fiction. Will it be straight Gonzo, drug-fueled insanity like Hunter S. Thompson? Will it be tweenage angst wrapped up in the loving embrace of high school football? Or will it be about a crazed, revenge-seeking egomaniac hellbent on getting his own white whale? Watch out, Shawn Eichorst.
Donald Sterling Proves to be Exactly as Horrible as We All Thought
Image Courtesy of: latimes.com
This April audio came out from Donald Sterling, released by his vulpine-faced mistress V. Stiviano, in which the Los Angeles Clippers owner basically went on a racist tirade that sounded like leftover dialogue for Leonardo DiCaprio in Django Unchained. Sterling’s awful audio immediately put new-commissioner Adam Silver in the hot seat and the league’s new head honcho didn’t hesitate to drop the hammer, banning Sterling for life from any NBA activity. Silver delivered a message and it was clear that the NBA wanted Sterling to give up his franchise. As per usual, the cantankerous curmudgeon tried to sue his way out of things, but eventually folded and the team was later purchased ba kajillionaire Steve Ballmer. Do I really think Sterling won’t try to sneak in to make racist jokes at the Staples Center with an underaged floozy? No way. Here’s a few of the disguises I predicted he would try to use to get in and watch the team.
Northwestern Football Attempts to Unionize, Immediately Confuses Idiots Like Me (*Author’s note: but luckily for you, I’ve created this handy flowchart to help you figure out how all the legal proceedings would go.)
I literally think that chart is the closest I came to making sense of the whole thing. A college football team trying to unionize? 2014 for ‘ya. The only thing that could’ve made it weirder would’ve been if they picked Derek Fisher to be in charge of the whole thing and he did next to nothing for them.
May
The NFL Draft Gets Weird, 2014 Style
Image Courtesy of: scoreboardtx.com
Johnny F. Heisman Football slipped down the draftboard after an offseason spent partying with rolled up $20 bills in Las Vegas bathrooms, dropping to #22 and to the Cleveland Browns. An undersized, hard-partying QB slipping down draftboards isn’t weird. What is? The he apparently text the Browns GM and told him to “hurry up and draft me.” I speculated about who else might be texting the Browns on Draft Night, too. Another highly-touted QB experienced his own free fall, with the Vikings selecting Teddy Bridgewater with the final pick of the first round. Needless to say, it was the worst night for Teddys, Bridges, and Water since Chappaquiddick in 1969. South Carolina’s JaDeveon Clowney went first overall and promptly did nothing in his rookie year (being injured virtually the entire year). How typically 2014 of you, the NFL Draft.
Diego Costa Whispers to Horses, Asks to Borrow Their Placentas
Image courtesy of: independent.co.uk
Yeah. This headline alone is enough to make you gag. I understand that. However, when Atletico Madrid striker Diego Costa tore his hamstring this April those wacky Europeans decided that instead of heating, icing and Ibuprofen, they would try something a little. . .different. So, utilizing an Island of Dr. Moreau sounding therapy, involving electro-shock and horse placenta ointment, Costa went in for treatment. If anyone needs me, I’ll be the guy rushing to the bathroom for a good old fashioned dry-heave.
Somebody Get Me A Starter Jacket: The Charlotte Hornets Are Back, Baby!
Image courtesy of: bringbackthebuzz.wordpress.com
Unforunately, Mugsy and Larry Johnson aren’t on the bench anymore. But the Charlotte Bobcats finally caved in to the massive demand of all the ’90s enthusiasts like myself and re-branded back to their God-intended franchise name: The Hornets. So as I sip my Amazon-ordered Surge, smashing on my French Toast Crunch while wearing my snap-back hat and listening to a bunch of boy bands on the radio, I can also watch the Charlotte Hornets get after it on the court. The 90’s are back, son! Somebody get me a Warhead and turn up the Will Smith songs!
50 Cent’s First Pitch, Worth Approximately A Quarter
Speaking of Nostalgia: remember 50 Cent? He’s still around. And apparently all those curls he was doing at the gym during his In Da Club music video shoot didn’t translate well to his 2-seam fastball. Here he comes with what many are arguing is the worst first pitch in history. The sad part? The Chicago Cubs probably tried to offer him a contract immediately after this toss. “G-g-g-g-g-g-get the hell out of the way!”
Nebraska Linebacker Josh Banderas Steals a Whole Peloton of Bikes
University of Nebraska Linebacker Josh Banderas was arrested with a pickup full of stolen bikes in May. Why? Reducing his carbon footprint? An inescapable urge to juice up and become the next Lance Armstrong? Who the hell knows. The above photo is my best guess as to what he was planning on doing with a bevy of hijacked Huffys.
June
Luis Suárez Goes Hannibal Lecter at the 2014 FIFA World Cup
Image Courtesy of: telegraph.co.uk
So, in 2014 the World Cup was back on the scene. It was fantastic. There was weirdness all over the place. From Brazilian governmental conspiracies to a hilarious pump-up speech from Will Ferrell and Teddy Goalsevelt. From the US somehow managing to escape the Group of Death, to a bizarre wasting of US Goalie Tim Howard’s game for the ages. It was all outstanding, fascinating, and very strange. However, no story topped the flesh-eating zombie known as Luis Suárez and his diabolical dentures. Suárez, the hyper-talented Uruguayan national team striker, ignored the billions of eyes that were watching and just couldn’t help himself from gnawing on the shoulder of Italian player Giorgio Chiellini. He was suspended 4 months for what turned out to be the latest in a long line of attempted cannibalism. Plenty of time for him to enjoy some Fava Beans and a nice Chianti.
The AC Goes Out, LBJ Goes Down
GIF Courtesy of: thebiglead.com
In game one of the NBA Finals, the air conditioning went out in the AT&T Center in San Antonion, Texas. What happened next was a Twitter dogpile on LeBron James, as they oft-criticized Miami Heat star cramped up and had to limp off the court, watching the game from the sidelines in pain. Was it Greg Popovich, pulling the ultimate mind-trick? Was known sporting-event-power-surger Beyoncé in the building with Hova to watch the game? Was LeBron shrinking in another huge moment (*Author’s note: an unfair rap, in my opinion, even though I love to hate on LeBron.) or was this simply a case of electrical malfunction at the exact wrong time? We may never know. But it was certainly weird. Also: nice work on keeping LeBron hydrated, Powerade. (*Author’s note: ironically enough? They’re called “drops.”)
Barney Cotton is the head coach of the Nebraska Cornhusker football program. Read that again. I know, I know. Not for long. But, in the interim, he’s the man running the show for a program that made $30 million dollars last year.
So what does a guy with fleeting power, a ticking clock before he ends up coaching at a DII school somewhere, and a pile of people wondering what this team will look like when they meet up with USC in the Holiday Bowl do with all of that on his plate? He stays organized. He plans things out meticulously.
Utilizing a top-secret informant within the inner workings of the Cornhusker football team, we were able to obtain a screenshot of Barney Cotton’s laptop showing just how incredibly precise his planning is for the day ahead. Take a look.
(*Author’s note: as usual, the formatting sucks. Click on the image and all shall be revealed.)
Were you wondering how former Nebraska Head Coach, Bo Pelini, took the news of Mike Riley’s hiring yesterday? We were too. While we weren’t able to sit down with Bo to talk through what was probably a pretty tough day for him, we were able to get a look at some of the texts messages that were sent to him yesterday. I understand, it’s technically not “Last Night” if Bo’s phone was getting blown up by his friends during the afternoon, but it’s still worth a look.
So who reached out to Former-Coach Pelini yesterday when the news of the new hire broke? Let’s find out.
Interim Head Coach, Barney Cotton, checked in
Fellow canned-head-coach, Brady Hoke reached out as well
Former Nebraska QB, Taylor Martinez got. . .weird
One of Bo’s former prize recruits and a sometimes-starting linebacker sent in a text to touch base
And where would we be without family to help us cope, right?
There are precious few things that make the Nebraska football program unique anymore.
The facilities, once a crown-jewel of a program far ahead of their time, are still phenomenal. But the memo got out. Now there are absurdly cool, space-aged, facilities from Tuscaloosa to Eugene, Oregon that make the Death Star look like that old refrigerator cardboard box you cut out to let your kid play inside with one window and a instantly deteriorating door.
The money, which has never truly stopped flowing, is still outstanding. Last year, the Husker football program made $35 million dollars in net profit. That was good enough to rank them as the 10th most valuable football brand in the country according to Forbes. But other schools are making money, too and will continue to do so in the hand-over-fist cash-cowing that is the NCAA’s profit-mongering mission. In fact, the Huskers have climbed these ranks in recent years and continue to be highly profitable, due in part to the revenue sharing from the Big Ten Network.
But the gap has narrowed, there, too.
A coaching/support staff that used to be ahead of the curve. From utilizing a unique and precise offensive scheme mixed with a terrifying defense, to a strength and conditioning program that revolutionized the sport, to a training table that was more MGM Grand while others were Truck Stop buffets. All those advantages have either dissipated entirely or are sizzling towards evaporation in the pan of hot competition.
The winning has stagnated, the coaching staff is no longer the genius-level advantage that it once appeared to be, and the aforementioned peaks have been shorn off by that dreaded word we hear so often spoken into the microphones of our 24-hour news networks: parity.
No. None of these make Nebraska what it is and none of them have brought Nebraska to where it is.
The one thing that makes Nebraska truly and utterly unique? Our giveashit. It’s still there. In spite of national irrelevancy and coaching changes and 140 character soap boxes dividing fans on either side of the Bo-Son Dixon Line. Our giveashit has remained steadfast while other coaches plead with their student sections to come watch their National-Championship-Caliber teams and attendance around the country is in a downward spiral. Coveted by other programs around the nation, this insane give-too-much-of-a-fuck passion is exactly what gives our program its identity.
Image courtesty of: huskernsider.tumblr.com
But starting last season I felt something for the first time that stunned me to the core of my fanhood (*Author’s note: which I will readily acknowledge, isn’t nearly as important as “my being” in spite of what some people would like you to believe). It lurched into the pit of my stomach at the end of the 2013 Iowa game, like a rickety elevator that drops a little further than it should when you finally reach your stop, and it resonated with me on a level – bouncing around between the foggy memories of Mackovickas and Peterbilt bicep tattoos of my youth and the foggier-still memories of Jungle Juice and Bill Callahan from my College days– that I hadn’t realized was there. Imperceptible. And not. The tide starting to pull slightly at my ankles before it fully reverses out towards the ocean.
Our giveashit was waning. Like the inevitable shifting of the prairie moon above our prairie state. The full moon was starting to shrink. Roaring forest fires had been reduced to manageable, Boy-Scout-Weenie roasts. Tickets were on sale and eyebrows were raised. 1.8 million voices were murmuring about that exotic love-child our passion and our lack-of-options produces every Saturday: the sellout streak. The sellout streak. Of course fans still bought. They bartered and begged. Hell some probably stole. But the ticket was not nearly as scalding hot as it has been in year’s past. Scalpers weren’t getting a return on their investments. Like a Bernie Madoff patsy, post-Ponzi, they were left wondering what happened to their once-“sure thing” investment.
While that giveashit was stalling out, bouncing forward in fits and spurts, herking and jerking like an ancient automobile trying to spark itself to life Nebraska football was doing what it always does. Winning against teams they should beat. Losing against teams that were equal or better. It was like a room in the funhouse full of 9-3 mirrors. And this funhouse wasn’t much fun anymore.
The Lake of Nebraska football had been, seemingly, perpetually still for the last few years. On Sunday, Shawn Eichorst decided to make waves. On Sunday Shawn Eichorst pulled the plug out from the treadmill we’ve been stuck on for the last 7 years and a lot of emotions went tumbling to the ground in a suddenly-nostalgic heap. What Eichorst did was slide his chips onto the roulette table, pick red, and gamble his job that he could reinvigorate the key element in keeping Nebraska from fading like so many of those ancient trophies we can’t quite seem to forget around here.
And may people were upset with his decision. Understandably so. Coach here long enough, keep your players out of the Urban Meyer school for hard knocks, and win some games? We’ll like you. Bo certainly seemed like a decent enough dude. Sure he F-Bombed the fans (*Author’s note: us, as I routinely refer to my fellow maniacs) in a hidden recording and turned into Mount Vesuvius on the sidelines. But his players loved him – as you would hope they would – and he seemed genuinely interested in the program being like a family. I can understand why so many of them lashed out at Twitter and the man who broke that would-be family apart in search of something better.
One of my favorite TV shows when I was in college and had more time to watch these things was Entourage. It was surface level fun. It had a group of buddies living every group of buddies’ dream: living large in Hollywood. As it progressed, however, the formula began to repeat itself.
Image Courtesy of: deadline.com
Vince would get a big part, do something artsy and then make a decision that – inexplicably — didn’t involve money. Ari would be a raging jerk to everyone, Turtle would get high and dream big, Drama would get a chance to reinvent himself and then botch it due to unchecked anger/anxiety issues, and E would try to squirm his way out from under Vince’s all-encompassing stardom to score a piece of the pie for himself based on his own talents. When the time came: I was ready for the show to be done. I didn’t dis-like it. It was just time to stop it and for HBO to bring in some new talent.
I also understand Husker fans’ fear of the unknown. It’s scary to walk up the steps of a new waterslide, only being able to see the stunning drop from over the railing’s edge. But I’m ready for a new ride. I’m ready for excitement. Our giveashit isn’t dead, but I don’t want it to go comatose.
We’ve been trying the standing long jump for too long at Nebraska. I’m ready to get a running start. Even if that means we have to walk backwards to give ourselves some more room.
Thanksgiving is almost here. So that means insane amounts of football, grotesque amounts of food, and a whole lot of people needlessly freaking out about Black Friday (*Author’s note: unless it directly effects you, in which case: my deepest apologies and may God have mercy on your soul.). But it also means it’s time for people to take a moment out from the hustle and bustle of everyday life to reflect on the things that matter most. And it also means making the single greatest art projects in the history of Thanksgiving: the Hand-Turkey!
So what are the Nebraska football coaches thankful for this year? Let’s take a look and find out.
(*Author’s note: and, as it appears the coaches are also one of the greener staffs in the country, it looks like they reused office paper in an effort to reduce their negative impact on the environment. Now that is caring.)
Burnpoetry 