1999 Big XII Championship

'Twas the night before the big game and all through the hotel,

Not a Longhorn was catching any Z's, especially Montrel;

The coaches were held up in their rooms all alone,

Waiting for pranksters to call again on the phone;

The players were tossin' and turnin' right in their beds,

While visions of Tostitos danced in their heads;

Coach Davis guides the offense, and Coach Carl leads the D,

But right now they're watching porn, Naughty Nurses part 3;

When down at the Alamodome there was a big clatter,

Mack hopped in the hoopty to go see what was the matter.

Down Commerce and across 281 he drove the team bus,

to see who the fuck was causing such a big fuss.

The streets were all empty and the stop lights all a glow,

Two hookers were just chillin looking for something to blow,

When, what to Mack's wondering eyes should appear,

But an RV, driven by some corn cob sucking queer,

The RV was bright red, and looked more like a tank,

Mack had seen it before, holy shit it's Big Frank.

With only one loss, his players they all came,

As he blew his whistle, and called them by name;

"Now, Wistrom! now, Brown! now Polk and Dan Alexander!

On, Crouch! on Davidson! and Raoli you smack talking fucker!

To the top of the Big XII! to the top of the AP poll!

We're on our way, on our way to the Fiesta Bowl.

They were dressed in all red, from their feet to their head,

And it didn't take them long to take Bevo behind the wood shed;

The season had been long, Texas was tired after 12 games,

Nebraska was just getting started, kicking ass and taking names.

They spoke not a word, but went to work grabbing sack,

Putting points on the board, and Applewhite on his back,

And with no help from the offense the D started to slack,

And before they knew it, Texas was picking cotton, back to back.

Frank left the field and told the team to hit the shower,

Mack had beat him twice before, but this was Frank's hour.

Mack heard Frank exclaim, as he drove off in his caddy,

"You may have beat me before, but now who's your daddy!"

My mom always said if you can't say something nice don't say anything at all. Well after watching the Big XII Championship, I'm speechless. That was crap. Before Texas forgot to show up and play Nebraska, I had the opportunity to attend the annual Army/Navy game. I saw two sub 500 teams with not a whole lot of talent just killing themselves for the sake of pride. So it makes me sick when I see Texas, a team with a vast amount of talent, play so poorly. I know the defense played well, but this is a team sport and you win and lose as a team. As for the offense, what offense? Top 5 recruiting classes and Heisman Trophies don't mean shit if you can't play with heart. We shouldn't be content with four losses or a trip to the Cotton Bowl. If Texas can't play offense, maybe they shouldn't play at all. I've got nothing else to say. Tune in next time for a Cotton bowl Preview. How we got that invitation with four losses, I'll never know.


It's the most wonderful time of the year....the hell it is. Suicides are up, grocery stores can't keep up with the demand for spam, my Atari 2600 isn't Y2K compatable yet and two teams with four losses are playing in a New Years Day Bowl. But Cory it's the 30-year anniversary of the Game of the Century. Well pass me another bar of soap and call me sally because I don't give a frog's fat ass if every apathetic Texas fan and inbred from Arkansas is headed to Big D to watch what won't even be considered the Game of the Day.

As I sit here in my cube overlooking Central Expressway and watch a convoy of RV's with a bunch of backwoods, trailer trash Arkansas fans descend upon and lower the property values of this fine city, I am reminded of the wise words spoken by my Lawyer James Travis, "wow, the Waffle House sure is beautiful this time of year". To be honest, I really don't know what's going to happen when the Longhorns mix it up with the Razorbacks on New Years Day and I really don't give care either. Mack Brown has been touting the 10-10 philosophy of 10 wins and possibly beginning next year ranked in the top 10. Personally I subscribe to the 4-4 theory, 4 losses on 4 blocked punts. Ten AM sure will come early this saturday morning and since the TV in my bomb shelter doesn't get good reception, I've decided to brave the elements, what is to be the hangover of the Millennium and the new world to watch my beloved Horn's take the field one last time this season. So on to the…


Right about the time Chris Stockton is kicking the ball off to start the game, some foreign commercial airline pilot who doesn't believe in Y2K (because his religious calendar tells him that it's Tuesday, August 3rd, 5012) is going to realize shortly after taking off from DFW that his plane is not Y2K compliant because the on board computer is made by an American Contractor. So he gives Allah the thumbs up, puts his head between his legs and crash lands his plane right smack dab in the middle of the Cotton Bowl. Though the heavily intoxicated crowd hardly notices the Boeing 737 parked in the end zone, Cotton Bowl officials decide that the divot the plane left can not be replaced and call off a game that should have never been scheduled in the first place.



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