Texas 51, Mizzou 20

If I'd known it was going to be Flag Day at Faurot Field last Saturday, I would have painted my face yellow and penalized myself for "intentional drowning of my liver." Instead I got frustratingly sober watching the refs penalize Texas 14 times for 135 yards during the Longhorns 51-20 trouncing of the Tigers. I've never been big on conspiracy theories and I'm not saying the refs had it in for the Horns (or am I), but five illegal use of the hands penalties in one half is a bit much, even for a 6th Grade Sock-Hop. So even though I may be risking nothing for the sake of a few laughs, I'm going to go all in and put head referee Walter Davenport on the stand in a little one-act theater of the absurd piece entitled...


54B: Head Referee Davenport, do you pinky swear that the load of bull you are about to spin us will be close to the truth, a minor fabrication, or an unequivocal lie as long as you both shall live?

REF: I do...what?

54B: Would you state your name, rank, and favorite place in your pants to hide your flag?

REF: Walter Davenport, Head Referee, Texas vs. Missouri, October 1, 2005. And you can kiss my ass.

54B: Sassy. So, Walt...can I call you Walt? Forget it. You, um, seem to have a bit of an oral fixation with your whistle. Does that have anything to do with your mother's refusal to breastfeed you as a baby?

REF: You will address me as Head Referee Davenport. I believe I've earned it...

54B: Impressive. Then you can call me 54boyscout 'cause before I got kicked out for fixing the Pine Box Derby, I rose to the rank of Bobcat. I'm quite sure I've earned it. Well my mom sewed my patch on anyway.

REF: What the hell kind of circus you running here? I'm out of here.

54B: Stay classy, hot shot, I haven't dismissed you yet.

JUDGE: Enough. This better be going some where, counselor...

54B: Okay Head Ref D, I have just one more question before I call Umpire Houlihan and Field Judge Skaggs to the stand. If you gave an order that this game was to be called fair--and your orders are always followed--then why the 14 penalties, why would the Longhorn's #2 ranking be in danger?

REF: You little 54bastard...

54B: You ordered the code yellow, didn't you? Because that's what ABC told you to do. And when Texas started to win, you cut your flag happy refs loose. I'll ask for the last time. Did you order the code yellow?


54B: You want to phone a friend, maybe use the 50/50?


54B: Okay I'll bite, I want the truth.


54B: Oh, I don't know, go ahead, make my day.

REF: Son, we referee a game that has rules. And those rules have to be enforced by men with flags. Who's gonna do it? You? You, waterboy? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for o-lineman Justin Blalock and you curse the referees. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: That Blalock's 4 holding penalties, while pathetic, probably stopped the Horns from scoring 100. And my existence, while transparent and meaningless to you, stops high scoring and keeps the viewers at home watching. You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at tailgate parties, you want me to throw that flag. You need me to throw that flag. You think that offensive pass interference at Kansas last year came out of no where? We use words like holding, off-sides, and tuck your shirt in #42...we use these words as the backbone of a job spent fixing games. You use'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a drunk fan who sits in the stands getting fat on cotton candy while I sweat my ass off running up and down the field, then questions the very calls that I make. I'd prefer you just burp and say excuse me and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a flag and put on a striped shirt. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to...

54B: Did you order the nachos with extra cheese, I mean the code yellow?

REF: I did the job they paid me to do.



Well, now that we got that cleared up, on to...


After watching the Longhorns chock up another solid win to go to 4-0, I expected the OU fans I know to be pretty quiet this week...not so fast, my friends. Without any hesitation at all, they all said about the same thing:

"I think we have a chance." And when they went on to explain why, something about their team coming together and the super talented freshmen coming of age, I started to say, "what the hell planet have you been living on the last five weeks." But it occurred to me that those OU fans sounded a lot like me the last five years trying to convince myself that the Horns had a chance.

Don't get me wrong, I think this year's game with the Sooners will be hard fought and if Texas expects to win, they're going to have to stay focused and play their game. But if Texas plays up to their potential, I don't see how this game is even going to be close. Call it overconfidence, arrogance, foolish pride, or what you will, but after five years of losing, it seems like the perfect storm has come together to ensure a UT victory.

OU's cupboard got emptied by the NFL, they're starting a freshman at QB and two in the secondary, and--wouldn't you just know it--super tailback Adrian Peterson got dinged on the ankle the week before the game. On the other side of the ball, Texas is loaded with depth and scoring weapons, Vince Young has proven himself to be a Heisman caliber QB and we've already won a game in the inferno known as "the Shoe." What else could Mack Brown and Texas fans possibly want? Well, a monumental blowout over the Sooners, that's what.

Will it happen? On to the...


Texas 45
Oops Stoops 13

TAILGATE UPDATE (State Fair Edition)

Despite OU's 2-2 record (OUch), tickets to the 100th edition of the Red River Shootout (Game on the Century) are still going to be tough to come by (OU sucks for you). For those of you lucky enough to find a ticket ("How many Wonka bars did you eat?), here is a little advice ("everybody in the club gettin' tips"):

1. Kick-off's at high-noon (skin that smoke wagon), so try to get to the fairgrounds by 9 a.m. ("Moose says your closed, I say you're open").

2. Find a parking lot (pave the way), don't park in "He Hate Me's" front yard (your car won't be the only thing on "grass").

3. Put your wallet in your front pocket ("Carnies got little hands").

4. Upon entering the fair (rub your ass with salt and go to the petting zoo), buy coupon tickets immediately so you can get a beer (obey your thirst) and a corndog ("I can smell you getting fatter").

5. Get to your seats early (sit on it, Potsy), the stadium corridors are narrow (like your urethra) and get extremely crowded ("don't touch me there, it doesn't belong to you").

6. If a flask is a must (I'll drink to that), then replace the cleaning solution (so hard to find good help) in your contact lens bottle with a clear liquor (oh Captain, my Morgan).

Adhere to these six simple edicts (tenets to win it), add in a little sun screen (SPF-OU), and try to remember, it's just a game, have fun ("it's not whether you win or lose, it's how drunk you get").


"Attention Sooners, all southbound lanes of I-35 from Norman have been closed due to Hurricane Vince evacuation."



PS. A very sincere thank you to Missouri super-fan Tiger Cleek, who not only put my family up, but also gave us tickets to the game and a first class experience the whole weekend. From his RV with the 33" TV with satellite hook-up, to the BBQ buffet, nobody does it quite like Tiger. I wish him and his family and friends a safe trip to Stillwater this weekend and good luck the rest of the season. Who knows, maybe we'll see each other again in Houston. Like Tiger likes to say about the score or the pour (of JD in my glass), that'd be respectable.


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