On The Road To Pasadena
Dear 54b,
It has come to our attention that you’re a few hours short and not on track to complete all of your required commentaries this season. And we may have to suspend you. Also, have you per chance been at Deion Sanders’ "crib" researching means for foregoing your amateur writing status. We deposed Mr. Sanders and he said he was teaching you how to play “Must Be The Money” on your electric kazoo?
Just tell us the truth. And remember, you don’t lie to us, you lie to girls.
Every breath you take,
The NCAA
To the NCAA and the three of you who noticed, my deepest appreciation and sincerest apologies for the lack of ignorance spreading commentaries over the past month, also known as Colt’s “Blue Flu Renaissance” period. If only I could blame my lack of “offensive” prose production on depleted electrolytes or a thumbnail that prevented me from typing the letter “b” on the keyborad. Unfortunately, my only excuse is life happening to me while I was busy making other plans to go to Pasadena on January 7.
Though, one helpful commenter did post this very plausible explanation: “Something suddenly came up after 54b found out Cat Osterman did ‘Kitty Porn’ for ESPN The Magazine’s Body Issue.” (http://www.catosterman.com/blog/101209.html)
I can neither confirm nor deny, but anything is better than asking Dez Bryant to explain where I wasn’t, so let’s just go with a non-denial denial like everybody else.
Not that you needed me to explain my unexcused absence or that an explanation is ever necessary when famous softball player decides to nude it up in a dugout (how apropos) with three of her teammates. But just in case demand accountability like I apparently don’t and somehow missed it in the “Behind the Sticky Curtain” potpourri section of Bevo’s Daily Roundup, Osterman had this to say about the risqué photo on her blog:
“Well, the ESPN The Magazine Body Issue came out. I know it shocked some people, but I am very happy with how it turned out. I believe it’s ok to show off the body I have worked hard for. It was a tasteful piece...” (Oh yeah, that’s what she said!)
Translation: “If I have to saddle up on a rolling cooler Godiva-style to get men to stop oppressing professional women’s sports and start objectifying them, then so be it...and hey, it’s not like I was photographed spread eagle choking up on a Easton or anything.”
(Darkness...awkward silence...phone ringing off in the distance...”hello Peter, this is the FCC”)
Okay, where was I again, oh yeah, being tasteful.
On to the commentary...
When last we conversed, the Longhorns were headed into the bye week fresh off a 64-7 crushing of the UTEP Miners from El Paso. So que paso since then?
Let me ‘splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up...Buttercup is marry Humperdink in little less than half an hour...whoops, wrong summation. But you are going to need the Albino’s wheelbarrow to carry the amount of bull I’m about to shovel your way. Here we go (deep breath):
Texas got a scare from the Buffaloes coached by the beleaguered Dan Hawkins who succumbed to pressure and “denepotized” his son telling young Cody to “go play intramurals” and despite the 38-14 come-from-behind win and some extra special mustard on special teams and outstanding Muschampion Era Defense, the media and the masses pronounced the Longhorns’ unfit for physical fitness, especially the O-Line who has spent the first five weeks of the season experimenting with an unorthodox matador-style blocking scheme. “Ole!”
(Exhale...Inhale)
Personally, I just thought the Texas Offense was bored. But that theory didn’t even last as long as global warming. Six days later the UT only scored one TD and barely squeaked by, 16-13, against a Bradford-less OU team coached by the now irrelevant Big Shame Bob who recently published a children’s book called “Everybody Poops On Stoops.” And even though any kind of win over OU should warrant an endless West Coast celebration replete with copious amounts of alcohol and UT coeds gone wild at Jamarcus McFarland’s mom’s house, many Longhorns fans spent the better part of the week after the Red River Rivalry mired in a funk over UT’s offensive ineptitude. I too sobbed inconsolably because, “this is my senior year, I paid for these pom-poms with my own money and you guys don’t even care.”
Something had to give before the trip to Mizzou and fortunately it was the gift that keeps on giving (no, not herpes)...
(Cue classic 80’s music montage...should we go with Vision Quest - Louden vs. Shute pre-match masturbatory weigh in? No, Modine never could hold his mud though I think his prematurity had more to Linda Fiorintino. Regardless, let’s go with the always reliable Rocky IV - Siberian Exile Anthem)
Two worlds collide (Greg Davis vs. inertia?)
Rival nations (Texas and Missouri rivals? Close enough)
It’s a primitive clash (the beatings will continue our SOS improves)
Venting last year’s frustrations (2008 blew a .018 on the suckalyzer)
Bravely we hope against all hope (Can we do that? Yes we can)
There is so much at stake (like non-refundable plane tickets to LA)
Seems our undefeated season’s up against the ropes (I picked the wrong season to quit sniffing glue)
Does the crowd understand (nope, sorry, we’re up to our ears in beers)
Is it East versus West (actually Big XII North vs. South)
Or man against man (Muschamp knocks out Drago in 3 rounds, no doubt)
Can Burnt Orange Nation stand alone (a table for one can be fun)
In Colt’s burning heart (Mack said he had a fever)
Just about to burst (and the prescription actually was more cowbell)
There was a quest for answers (and some pass protection)
An unquenchable thirst (Pedialyte I.V.)
In the darkest night (ABC Primetime Winter Solstice Spectacular)
Rising like a spire (or a tower lit orange),
In Colt’s burning heart (camera 2 stay on Colt’s girlfriend at all times)
An unmistakable fire (Musburger says, “folks, Colt’s back and he’s hotter than a $2 pistol”).
And victory was UT’s alone as the much maligned Longhorns offense got salty at the Pinkel Petting Zou and walked out of Columbia with a statement making 41-7 victory. Exactly what statement did they make? I don’t know, we’ll just have to wait until the media gets done giving the SEC a courtesy reach-around. “Oh my name’s Houston Nutt and I look at other conferences and wish we could play them instead because that’s where I go shopping for quarterbacks.” Here’s a news flash: maybe playing great defense is not necessarily a sign of toughness, rather a clue that your offenses suck. Agree to disagree, we’ll settle this in January.
Okay, one thing Texas fans do know right now is that Greg Davis somehow fixed the hyperdrive on the offense just in time for the...
De Facto Big XII Championship in Stillwater
Not that we haven’t known that every game was a must-win this season, but if the unimaginable happened and Texas actually lost to OSU, most likely the Cowboys would have gone to the Big XII Championship, the Horns would have gone to the Toilet Bowl, and Colt's tenure at UT would have been deemed an unequivocal failure. Yeah, read that again and think about it.
With that kind of pressure and those kind of stakes, was there any way I wasn’t headed north of the Red River to make waves in Stillwater last Saturday?
Road Trip Diary – Halloween, 2009
5:59am – Hugging my still sleeping 5-year old son goodbye and feeling the dampness of his pillow from tears cried for an absent father who would not be there to take him trick or treating...I imagined the not too distant future when my son calls me to say, “Sorry, dad, can’t be at your surgery, got tickets to see the Longhorns,” as I smile with a tear in my eye just as the catheter is being inserted with karmic precision by a clumsy orderly with poor depth perception while I let out a very audible, “that’s...my boyyyy.”
6:07am – Walking out into the morning chill to find an even colder co-pilot not amused by my 7 minute delay. Clay-o, who keeps spitting in the face of fate by joining me on these crusades, had rented a very spiffy silver Pontiac Vibe, but apparently wasn’t feeling it despite the 12-inch faux mahogany gear shifter that was practically mounted on the dashboard...I tried to explain my need to console my disconsolate son, but it was hard to talk over the mighty roar of the Vibe’s 2-cylinder engine. So I just smiled and did my best 1970’s disco lawn mower move much to his chagrin as he rolled the car backwards to get enough torque in the coils on the back axel to get us all the way to Stillwater. Zoom-zoom.
7:22am – Behold the majestic Red River with poetic steam rising from its tranquil waters as the jealous sun rises in the East shedding magnificent, pure light on all the perverts departing the DW Adult Border Book Store like vampires that went hoggin, bit off more than they could suck, and forgot to change their watches to daylight savings time. Nothing says the recession is over and the terrorists lose like a brown bag full of porn in the morning.
7:47am – Running down the hill behind the abandoned weigh station near Paul’s Valley yelling, “I told you not to order me the Venti.” Upon returning to the car after making a new tributary in the Red River, Clay simply frowned and said, “you know, when it comes to bladders, you got the short end of the dick.”
8:13am – Standing at the counter at McDonalds having this conversation...
“I’ll have a sausage-egg biscuit and a water.”
“Do you want the value meal?”
“Is it cheaper that way?”
“Yes, and it comes with a hash brown.”
“Nice, but I don’t dig on spuds, can I substitute for the apples?”
“Yes, do you want the caramel dipping sauce?”
“Tempting, but no unless Clay wants to dunk McBurito in it.”
(Into the microphone) “I need one #4...it’s for a Longhorn.”
“What...are they going to spit Swine Flu in it?”
“If you’re lucky.”
8:42am – Passing through the belly of the beast also known as Norman, Oklahoma. Clay tries to temper my desire to stop and deface the “Welcome to Bradford Country” billboard by pointing out how beautiful the Waffle House looks this time of year. “Freakin' Sooners, I'd like to give them a piece of my...”Mmmm, waffles...but can't we just stop and yell OU sucks...maple syrup...and tell Bob Stoops to kiss my...grits and hot links.” Before I know it, we're in OKC and my Boomer outburst has subsided.
9:01am – Time to wake up Clark, Clay’s brother, who drove to OKC the night before and stayed at the very affordable Knights Inn...
“Clark W, wake the *$*# up?”
“Noooooo, you guys go on, I’m staying in bed.”
“Why, are you stuck to the sheets?”
“I actually brought my own sheets and pillow, thank you.”
“Seriously? Did you bring your own toilet paper too?”
“No, forgot that...have to settle for the one-ply.”
“Wow, might as well just use your hand.”
“Yeah, okay...I’ll meet y’all at Joe’s.”
“Wait...does your bed have Magic Fingers?”
“What?”
“You know, Magic Fingers, that vibrate the bed for a quarter.”
“No, but I think the guy at the front desk gives massages.”
“To complete?”
“I don’t know, bye...”
“Wait, don’t forget to put an extra $20 on the nightstand and tell him your safety word...”
10:11am – Turning onto Hwy 51 towards Stillwater, I think it only appropriate to sing OSU’s new fight song, “Cowboys Forever,” and translate it for Clay...
The prairie wind touches our skin (OSU built their new stadium using T. Boone’s Wind Energy junk bonds)
Another maverick morning begins (He’s now a greeter at Wal-Mart like his friend, John McCain)
Wild west eyes rise before the sun (You can often find him shooting dice at the Winstar Casino until dawn)
We are the young guns on the run (The bank is threatening to foreclose on Pickens Stadium)
Hang’em high, pistols to the sky (Pistol Pete advocates regular prostate exams...sorry, I think that line and hand gusture got lost in translation)
We ride, we ride, ‘cross the line (T. Boone will be in Mexico hiding out until further notice)
10:46pm – Sittin’ fat and happy upstairs at Eskimo Joe’s under the Joe Dome (retractable glass roof) once again staring at the cornucopia of glutinous options that make up Joe’s “everything comes with cheese fries” Gameday Menu and lamenting the fact that my pants are sans elastic waistband. “Chancho, get me some sweats.”
11:52am – Making my inaugural contribution at the Eskimo Joe’s urinal trough when I hear the words that are forbotten even in German men’s rooms, “hey, man, can you give me a hand?” Um, yeah, pee time’s over boys. I think you want the guy in stall with the wide stance. I quickly zipped up and wheeled around to find what I thought were two hefty OSU Cowboys speed skaters wearing bright orange leotards and donning pumpkin helmets. Can’t picture it? Just imagine two oranges with toothpicks for legs. Anyway, apparently, when squeezing into their costumes, these two space cadets failed to account for biology and required assistance from one another to jettison their garbage before making the jump to nerd speed.
1:33pm - Carefully constructing my Eskimo Joe’s plastic cup Beeramid when what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a plump OSU coed who underestimated her jeans’ ability to conceal her derriere. Polite society says that cleavage is like the sun and you’re not supposed to stare at it. But I think Emily Post needs to add a chapter on butt cleavage, because it too is like staring at the sun...well actually a sun that has exploded and created a black hole that might suck you in if you stare at it too long.
3:02pm – Clay reminds me about my promise to Mack that I’d always be willing to blow .018 (margin on last year’s BCS snub) more on the breathalyzer to win a National Championship, and he promptly marches us across the Rubicon by ordering a round of Jack & Diets. Why Diet Coke instead of regular you ask? I don’t know. I guess it’s sort of conscience appeasing...technically I’m putting poison into my liver, but at least I’m watching my figure. I think it’s the paradox that drives us to drink. It’s a battle of wills and in the heat of the Joe Dome, it’s the passion that swills. Even on Halloween candy is dandy but liquor is quicker.
(If you’re playing at home, that’s two Rocky IV references for the price of one...I’m so making up for lost wasted time.)
4ish – Jack & Diets are no longer doing it for me so in my infinite inebriation, I decided to order a Jack & Diet, hold the Diet with a mashed up cherry in it – also known as an Old Fashion. Apparently this did not go over well with the waiter who looked at me like I just called him Timmy and propositioned him a Worther’s Original so he’d come sit on my lap. But to his credit, he did return with an Old Fashion in an actual glass. And they say professional courtesy is dead.
5ish – So a Ghostbuster, the Karate Kid, and Cousin Eddie walk into a bar...no, that’s not a joke. It’s just your average Halloween in the Joe Dome. The 80’s Dream Team was sitting next to us and everything was going swimmingly until the two orange spandex blobs reappeared to harass the Ghostbuster in a duel to the nerdiest, a guy dressed in a Cobra Kai outfit tried to sweep Daniel-son’s leg, and Cousin Eddie announced that the Eskimo Joe shitter was full. Yep, time to leave.
The Game
Described using actual quotes with increasing levels of sobriety and decreasing levels of anxiety:
1st Quarter - “Nom-nom-nom-nom-nom”
Too busy inhaling a roasted turkey leg at a feverish pace to notice O-Sisyphus-U rolling the football down the field only to watch it implode every time they got near the end zone...Texas 17-0, about what I expected...shyeaah, right.
2nd Quarter - (Addressing the stadium Public Address announcer) “We’re not visitors, we’re Texas, you asshole.”
My language was uncalled for, especially if you ask the elderly lady in front of me who nearly swallowed her Polydent after my outburst, but I felt justified in taking the Okie State PA announcer to task for calling us “visitors” and crapping himself every time the Cowboys got a first down...Texas up 24-7, starting to unclench sphincter.
3rd Quarter - “Hey Okie State, I love your orange uniforms. Maybe we can go pick up trash tomorrow on Highway 51. Meet me at the Days Inn. You can share my free continental breakfast. I don’t know what that comes with but I’m pretty sure it comes with a piece of cantaloupe, which also looks like your uniforms.”
Forget it, I don’t even know what that means...Texas up 41-7, I'm now violating personal spaces of everyone around me with uncomfortably long hugs and head rubs (not that head).
4th Quarter - “I went trick or treating at Deion’s house and all I got was a one year suspension.”
You all wondered where to draw the line, yeah, well I passed it about 30 miles back. Not exactly making us proud with that one...Texas up 41-14, and I'm now openly calling travel agents to make arrangements to fly to LA for the title game and eat breakfast with the Chipmunks at Disney Land. Seriously, you got to book that early. It fills up. Just a tip. Thank me never.
Of course, UT’s dominating win over OSU would be all for not if the Horns don’t win the...
Next Game
So let’s see here...11am kick off against a team some of our own players don’t even know the name of only a few days after an extremely emotional three-week gauntlet. Um, yeah, here’s betting Royal Memorial feels more like a waiting room at a doctor’s office on Saturday than it does a cauldron of barely contained chaos.
But hear me yesterday and listen to me tomorrow, for those of you who aren’t taking Coach George O’Leary and the Golden Knights seriously, let us not forget that this is a man who was willing to lie on his resume to get a job at Notre Dame. That means he lied to God even though he knew God knew that he was lying. That’s pretty desperate even for an Irishman. There’s no telling what ends he’s willing to penetrate to derail UT’s season. So put that in your chicken and choke it...wait, is that how the line goes? Never mind.
As for whether the Horns will keep the dream alive, you don’t need a Magic 8 Ball or a Deion deposition to tell you that, you just need the...
Unpredictable Prediction
I predict that at least one perturbed newb writes the following letter to the editor at The Daily Texan next week...
To Whom It Obviously Doesn't Concern,
I never thought this would happen to me, but I walked in on two exotic dancers and a midget holding a car battery with alligator clamps attached to...sorry, I mean my sister who goes to UT-Austin won two tickets to the Texas vs. Central Florida game at the Kinsolving Dorm Halloween Movie Marathon Slumber Party Pot Luck Jamboree. They didn’t want the girls without dates to feel left out. Nobody should be alone on Halloween.
Anyway, she chose to take me (lucky) to the UCF game and I will tell you up front that I’m from north of the Mason Dixon line (ha-ha, LMAO, you can keep your jokes). But I’ve always been a Longhorns fan my whole life ever since I saw Ricky Williams in a wedding dress. And Saturday was my first time ever to see Texas play in person you know. We sat in the upper deck and even arrived 45 minutes early.
Well, pardon my Canadian, but I’ve just got to say, Longhorns fans suck. I mean half the stadium was empty the whole game and the fans that were there showed up late, drunk, and sat on their hands the whole time. My sister and I of course cheered our patooties off and did the best version of Spirit Fingers we’ve ever done, honest. Don't believe me here’s my Flickr account...I told you. Okay, if that link doesn’t work, here’s my Facebook, but don't try to friend me, it's too late...unless you really want to be my friend...serious BFFs need only apply.
So that’s it. I just wanted you all to know that I was very disappointed in our school spirit. I also had to call my uncle and tell him he was right, Northern Illinois fans are much awesomer. So thanks for that.
Sincerely,
Thad-182 (and sister)
PS. Game was awesome, Texas 52, Knight in Gold Tights 9...go Horns.
Quote Of The Week
(Cue theme music from the movie Glory)
“Our theme now will be to cheer to the standard of the best fan base in the country. Longhorns fans shouldn’t want to be the best in the country, they should need to be. And we can improve in so many areas. I know I for one could get off the barstool and get to the game a little earlier. I could raise my Horns a little higher during kick-offs also watching my spacing with other fans. And I could wear a shirt that’s even more burnt and even more oranger. Sure we Texas fans are good right now, but we can get better.
“The other thing that I challenge all UT fans with is if you are going to be a great fan base that cheers for a team that goes undefeated, you have to be excited to play every week, and that's hard to do. A lot of fans can't do that because they don't get enough fiber, but that's part of the magic of being great fans. You have to be able to get rid of Oklahoma State yesterday, and you have to be able to get ready for Central Florida like now. If you can't do that then you are not one of the best fan bases in the country.”
Hook’em,
54b
PS. I just want to say that I love all my Longhorn brothers and sisters and I’m sorry if the above statement seems heavy hoofed. But sometimes you have to practice rough love if you’re going to break some eggs and hit a grand slam.
It has come to our attention that you’re a few hours short and not on track to complete all of your required commentaries this season. And we may have to suspend you. Also, have you per chance been at Deion Sanders’ "crib" researching means for foregoing your amateur writing status. We deposed Mr. Sanders and he said he was teaching you how to play “Must Be The Money” on your electric kazoo?
Just tell us the truth. And remember, you don’t lie to us, you lie to girls.
Every breath you take,
The NCAA
To the NCAA and the three of you who noticed, my deepest appreciation and sincerest apologies for the lack of ignorance spreading commentaries over the past month, also known as Colt’s “Blue Flu Renaissance” period. If only I could blame my lack of “offensive” prose production on depleted electrolytes or a thumbnail that prevented me from typing the letter “b” on the keyborad. Unfortunately, my only excuse is life happening to me while I was busy making other plans to go to Pasadena on January 7.
Though, one helpful commenter did post this very plausible explanation: “Something suddenly came up after 54b found out Cat Osterman did ‘Kitty Porn’ for ESPN The Magazine’s Body Issue.” (http://www.catosterman.com/blog/101209.html)
I can neither confirm nor deny, but anything is better than asking Dez Bryant to explain where I wasn’t, so let’s just go with a non-denial denial like everybody else.
Not that you needed me to explain my unexcused absence or that an explanation is ever necessary when famous softball player decides to nude it up in a dugout (how apropos) with three of her teammates. But just in case demand accountability like I apparently don’t and somehow missed it in the “Behind the Sticky Curtain” potpourri section of Bevo’s Daily Roundup, Osterman had this to say about the risqué photo on her blog:
“Well, the ESPN The Magazine Body Issue came out. I know it shocked some people, but I am very happy with how it turned out. I believe it’s ok to show off the body I have worked hard for. It was a tasteful piece...” (Oh yeah, that’s what she said!)
Translation: “If I have to saddle up on a rolling cooler Godiva-style to get men to stop oppressing professional women’s sports and start objectifying them, then so be it...and hey, it’s not like I was photographed spread eagle choking up on a Easton or anything.”
(Darkness...awkward silence...phone ringing off in the distance...”hello Peter, this is the FCC”)
Okay, where was I again, oh yeah, being tasteful.
On to the commentary...
When last we conversed, the Longhorns were headed into the bye week fresh off a 64-7 crushing of the UTEP Miners from El Paso. So que paso since then?
Let me ‘splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up...Buttercup is marry Humperdink in little less than half an hour...whoops, wrong summation. But you are going to need the Albino’s wheelbarrow to carry the amount of bull I’m about to shovel your way. Here we go (deep breath):
Texas got a scare from the Buffaloes coached by the beleaguered Dan Hawkins who succumbed to pressure and “denepotized” his son telling young Cody to “go play intramurals” and despite the 38-14 come-from-behind win and some extra special mustard on special teams and outstanding Muschampion Era Defense, the media and the masses pronounced the Longhorns’ unfit for physical fitness, especially the O-Line who has spent the first five weeks of the season experimenting with an unorthodox matador-style blocking scheme. “Ole!”
(Exhale...Inhale)
Personally, I just thought the Texas Offense was bored. But that theory didn’t even last as long as global warming. Six days later the UT only scored one TD and barely squeaked by, 16-13, against a Bradford-less OU team coached by the now irrelevant Big Shame Bob who recently published a children’s book called “Everybody Poops On Stoops.” And even though any kind of win over OU should warrant an endless West Coast celebration replete with copious amounts of alcohol and UT coeds gone wild at Jamarcus McFarland’s mom’s house, many Longhorns fans spent the better part of the week after the Red River Rivalry mired in a funk over UT’s offensive ineptitude. I too sobbed inconsolably because, “this is my senior year, I paid for these pom-poms with my own money and you guys don’t even care.”
Something had to give before the trip to Mizzou and fortunately it was the gift that keeps on giving (no, not herpes)...
(Cue classic 80’s music montage...should we go with Vision Quest - Louden vs. Shute pre-match masturbatory weigh in? No, Modine never could hold his mud though I think his prematurity had more to Linda Fiorintino. Regardless, let’s go with the always reliable Rocky IV - Siberian Exile Anthem)
Two worlds collide (Greg Davis vs. inertia?)
Rival nations (Texas and Missouri rivals? Close enough)
It’s a primitive clash (the beatings will continue our SOS improves)
Venting last year’s frustrations (2008 blew a .018 on the suckalyzer)
Bravely we hope against all hope (Can we do that? Yes we can)
There is so much at stake (like non-refundable plane tickets to LA)
Seems our undefeated season’s up against the ropes (I picked the wrong season to quit sniffing glue)
Does the crowd understand (nope, sorry, we’re up to our ears in beers)
Is it East versus West (actually Big XII North vs. South)
Or man against man (Muschamp knocks out Drago in 3 rounds, no doubt)
Can Burnt Orange Nation stand alone (a table for one can be fun)
In Colt’s burning heart (Mack said he had a fever)
Just about to burst (and the prescription actually was more cowbell)
There was a quest for answers (and some pass protection)
An unquenchable thirst (Pedialyte I.V.)
In the darkest night (ABC Primetime Winter Solstice Spectacular)
Rising like a spire (or a tower lit orange),
In Colt’s burning heart (camera 2 stay on Colt’s girlfriend at all times)
An unmistakable fire (Musburger says, “folks, Colt’s back and he’s hotter than a $2 pistol”).
And victory was UT’s alone as the much maligned Longhorns offense got salty at the Pinkel Petting Zou and walked out of Columbia with a statement making 41-7 victory. Exactly what statement did they make? I don’t know, we’ll just have to wait until the media gets done giving the SEC a courtesy reach-around. “Oh my name’s Houston Nutt and I look at other conferences and wish we could play them instead because that’s where I go shopping for quarterbacks.” Here’s a news flash: maybe playing great defense is not necessarily a sign of toughness, rather a clue that your offenses suck. Agree to disagree, we’ll settle this in January.
Okay, one thing Texas fans do know right now is that Greg Davis somehow fixed the hyperdrive on the offense just in time for the...
De Facto Big XII Championship in Stillwater
Not that we haven’t known that every game was a must-win this season, but if the unimaginable happened and Texas actually lost to OSU, most likely the Cowboys would have gone to the Big XII Championship, the Horns would have gone to the Toilet Bowl, and Colt's tenure at UT would have been deemed an unequivocal failure. Yeah, read that again and think about it.
With that kind of pressure and those kind of stakes, was there any way I wasn’t headed north of the Red River to make waves in Stillwater last Saturday?
Road Trip Diary – Halloween, 2009
5:59am – Hugging my still sleeping 5-year old son goodbye and feeling the dampness of his pillow from tears cried for an absent father who would not be there to take him trick or treating...I imagined the not too distant future when my son calls me to say, “Sorry, dad, can’t be at your surgery, got tickets to see the Longhorns,” as I smile with a tear in my eye just as the catheter is being inserted with karmic precision by a clumsy orderly with poor depth perception while I let out a very audible, “that’s...my boyyyy.”
6:07am – Walking out into the morning chill to find an even colder co-pilot not amused by my 7 minute delay. Clay-o, who keeps spitting in the face of fate by joining me on these crusades, had rented a very spiffy silver Pontiac Vibe, but apparently wasn’t feeling it despite the 12-inch faux mahogany gear shifter that was practically mounted on the dashboard...I tried to explain my need to console my disconsolate son, but it was hard to talk over the mighty roar of the Vibe’s 2-cylinder engine. So I just smiled and did my best 1970’s disco lawn mower move much to his chagrin as he rolled the car backwards to get enough torque in the coils on the back axel to get us all the way to Stillwater. Zoom-zoom.
7:22am – Behold the majestic Red River with poetic steam rising from its tranquil waters as the jealous sun rises in the East shedding magnificent, pure light on all the perverts departing the DW Adult Border Book Store like vampires that went hoggin, bit off more than they could suck, and forgot to change their watches to daylight savings time. Nothing says the recession is over and the terrorists lose like a brown bag full of porn in the morning.
7:47am – Running down the hill behind the abandoned weigh station near Paul’s Valley yelling, “I told you not to order me the Venti.” Upon returning to the car after making a new tributary in the Red River, Clay simply frowned and said, “you know, when it comes to bladders, you got the short end of the dick.”
8:13am – Standing at the counter at McDonalds having this conversation...
“I’ll have a sausage-egg biscuit and a water.”
“Do you want the value meal?”
“Is it cheaper that way?”
“Yes, and it comes with a hash brown.”
“Nice, but I don’t dig on spuds, can I substitute for the apples?”
“Yes, do you want the caramel dipping sauce?”
“Tempting, but no unless Clay wants to dunk McBurito in it.”
(Into the microphone) “I need one #4...it’s for a Longhorn.”
“What...are they going to spit Swine Flu in it?”
“If you’re lucky.”
8:42am – Passing through the belly of the beast also known as Norman, Oklahoma. Clay tries to temper my desire to stop and deface the “Welcome to Bradford Country” billboard by pointing out how beautiful the Waffle House looks this time of year. “Freakin' Sooners, I'd like to give them a piece of my...”Mmmm, waffles...but can't we just stop and yell OU sucks...maple syrup...and tell Bob Stoops to kiss my...grits and hot links.” Before I know it, we're in OKC and my Boomer outburst has subsided.
9:01am – Time to wake up Clark, Clay’s brother, who drove to OKC the night before and stayed at the very affordable Knights Inn...
“Clark W, wake the *$*# up?”
“Noooooo, you guys go on, I’m staying in bed.”
“Why, are you stuck to the sheets?”
“I actually brought my own sheets and pillow, thank you.”
“Seriously? Did you bring your own toilet paper too?”
“No, forgot that...have to settle for the one-ply.”
“Wow, might as well just use your hand.”
“Yeah, okay...I’ll meet y’all at Joe’s.”
“Wait...does your bed have Magic Fingers?”
“What?”
“You know, Magic Fingers, that vibrate the bed for a quarter.”
“No, but I think the guy at the front desk gives massages.”
“To complete?”
“I don’t know, bye...”
“Wait, don’t forget to put an extra $20 on the nightstand and tell him your safety word...”
10:11am – Turning onto Hwy 51 towards Stillwater, I think it only appropriate to sing OSU’s new fight song, “Cowboys Forever,” and translate it for Clay...
The prairie wind touches our skin (OSU built their new stadium using T. Boone’s Wind Energy junk bonds)
Another maverick morning begins (He’s now a greeter at Wal-Mart like his friend, John McCain)
Wild west eyes rise before the sun (You can often find him shooting dice at the Winstar Casino until dawn)
We are the young guns on the run (The bank is threatening to foreclose on Pickens Stadium)
Hang’em high, pistols to the sky (Pistol Pete advocates regular prostate exams...sorry, I think that line and hand gusture got lost in translation)
We ride, we ride, ‘cross the line (T. Boone will be in Mexico hiding out until further notice)
10:46pm – Sittin’ fat and happy upstairs at Eskimo Joe’s under the Joe Dome (retractable glass roof) once again staring at the cornucopia of glutinous options that make up Joe’s “everything comes with cheese fries” Gameday Menu and lamenting the fact that my pants are sans elastic waistband. “Chancho, get me some sweats.”
11:52am – Making my inaugural contribution at the Eskimo Joe’s urinal trough when I hear the words that are forbotten even in German men’s rooms, “hey, man, can you give me a hand?” Um, yeah, pee time’s over boys. I think you want the guy in stall with the wide stance. I quickly zipped up and wheeled around to find what I thought were two hefty OSU Cowboys speed skaters wearing bright orange leotards and donning pumpkin helmets. Can’t picture it? Just imagine two oranges with toothpicks for legs. Anyway, apparently, when squeezing into their costumes, these two space cadets failed to account for biology and required assistance from one another to jettison their garbage before making the jump to nerd speed.
1:33pm - Carefully constructing my Eskimo Joe’s plastic cup Beeramid when what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a plump OSU coed who underestimated her jeans’ ability to conceal her derriere. Polite society says that cleavage is like the sun and you’re not supposed to stare at it. But I think Emily Post needs to add a chapter on butt cleavage, because it too is like staring at the sun...well actually a sun that has exploded and created a black hole that might suck you in if you stare at it too long.
3:02pm – Clay reminds me about my promise to Mack that I’d always be willing to blow .018 (margin on last year’s BCS snub) more on the breathalyzer to win a National Championship, and he promptly marches us across the Rubicon by ordering a round of Jack & Diets. Why Diet Coke instead of regular you ask? I don’t know. I guess it’s sort of conscience appeasing...technically I’m putting poison into my liver, but at least I’m watching my figure. I think it’s the paradox that drives us to drink. It’s a battle of wills and in the heat of the Joe Dome, it’s the passion that swills. Even on Halloween candy is dandy but liquor is quicker.
(If you’re playing at home, that’s two Rocky IV references for the price of one...I’m so making up for lost wasted time.)
4ish – Jack & Diets are no longer doing it for me so in my infinite inebriation, I decided to order a Jack & Diet, hold the Diet with a mashed up cherry in it – also known as an Old Fashion. Apparently this did not go over well with the waiter who looked at me like I just called him Timmy and propositioned him a Worther’s Original so he’d come sit on my lap. But to his credit, he did return with an Old Fashion in an actual glass. And they say professional courtesy is dead.
5ish – So a Ghostbuster, the Karate Kid, and Cousin Eddie walk into a bar...no, that’s not a joke. It’s just your average Halloween in the Joe Dome. The 80’s Dream Team was sitting next to us and everything was going swimmingly until the two orange spandex blobs reappeared to harass the Ghostbuster in a duel to the nerdiest, a guy dressed in a Cobra Kai outfit tried to sweep Daniel-son’s leg, and Cousin Eddie announced that the Eskimo Joe shitter was full. Yep, time to leave.
The Game
Described using actual quotes with increasing levels of sobriety and decreasing levels of anxiety:
1st Quarter - “Nom-nom-nom-nom-nom”
Too busy inhaling a roasted turkey leg at a feverish pace to notice O-Sisyphus-U rolling the football down the field only to watch it implode every time they got near the end zone...Texas 17-0, about what I expected...shyeaah, right.
2nd Quarter - (Addressing the stadium Public Address announcer) “We’re not visitors, we’re Texas, you asshole.”
My language was uncalled for, especially if you ask the elderly lady in front of me who nearly swallowed her Polydent after my outburst, but I felt justified in taking the Okie State PA announcer to task for calling us “visitors” and crapping himself every time the Cowboys got a first down...Texas up 24-7, starting to unclench sphincter.
3rd Quarter - “Hey Okie State, I love your orange uniforms. Maybe we can go pick up trash tomorrow on Highway 51. Meet me at the Days Inn. You can share my free continental breakfast. I don’t know what that comes with but I’m pretty sure it comes with a piece of cantaloupe, which also looks like your uniforms.”
Forget it, I don’t even know what that means...Texas up 41-7, I'm now violating personal spaces of everyone around me with uncomfortably long hugs and head rubs (not that head).
4th Quarter - “I went trick or treating at Deion’s house and all I got was a one year suspension.”
You all wondered where to draw the line, yeah, well I passed it about 30 miles back. Not exactly making us proud with that one...Texas up 41-14, and I'm now openly calling travel agents to make arrangements to fly to LA for the title game and eat breakfast with the Chipmunks at Disney Land. Seriously, you got to book that early. It fills up. Just a tip. Thank me never.
Of course, UT’s dominating win over OSU would be all for not if the Horns don’t win the...
Next Game
So let’s see here...11am kick off against a team some of our own players don’t even know the name of only a few days after an extremely emotional three-week gauntlet. Um, yeah, here’s betting Royal Memorial feels more like a waiting room at a doctor’s office on Saturday than it does a cauldron of barely contained chaos.
But hear me yesterday and listen to me tomorrow, for those of you who aren’t taking Coach George O’Leary and the Golden Knights seriously, let us not forget that this is a man who was willing to lie on his resume to get a job at Notre Dame. That means he lied to God even though he knew God knew that he was lying. That’s pretty desperate even for an Irishman. There’s no telling what ends he’s willing to penetrate to derail UT’s season. So put that in your chicken and choke it...wait, is that how the line goes? Never mind.
As for whether the Horns will keep the dream alive, you don’t need a Magic 8 Ball or a Deion deposition to tell you that, you just need the...
Unpredictable Prediction
I predict that at least one perturbed newb writes the following letter to the editor at The Daily Texan next week...
To Whom It Obviously Doesn't Concern,
I never thought this would happen to me, but I walked in on two exotic dancers and a midget holding a car battery with alligator clamps attached to...sorry, I mean my sister who goes to UT-Austin won two tickets to the Texas vs. Central Florida game at the Kinsolving Dorm Halloween Movie Marathon Slumber Party Pot Luck Jamboree. They didn’t want the girls without dates to feel left out. Nobody should be alone on Halloween.
Anyway, she chose to take me (lucky) to the UCF game and I will tell you up front that I’m from north of the Mason Dixon line (ha-ha, LMAO, you can keep your jokes). But I’ve always been a Longhorns fan my whole life ever since I saw Ricky Williams in a wedding dress. And Saturday was my first time ever to see Texas play in person you know. We sat in the upper deck and even arrived 45 minutes early.
Well, pardon my Canadian, but I’ve just got to say, Longhorns fans suck. I mean half the stadium was empty the whole game and the fans that were there showed up late, drunk, and sat on their hands the whole time. My sister and I of course cheered our patooties off and did the best version of Spirit Fingers we’ve ever done, honest. Don't believe me here’s my Flickr account...I told you. Okay, if that link doesn’t work, here’s my Facebook, but don't try to friend me, it's too late...unless you really want to be my friend...serious BFFs need only apply.
So that’s it. I just wanted you all to know that I was very disappointed in our school spirit. I also had to call my uncle and tell him he was right, Northern Illinois fans are much awesomer. So thanks for that.
Sincerely,
Thad-182 (and sister)
PS. Game was awesome, Texas 52, Knight in Gold Tights 9...go Horns.
Quote Of The Week
(Cue theme music from the movie Glory)
“Our theme now will be to cheer to the standard of the best fan base in the country. Longhorns fans shouldn’t want to be the best in the country, they should need to be. And we can improve in so many areas. I know I for one could get off the barstool and get to the game a little earlier. I could raise my Horns a little higher during kick-offs also watching my spacing with other fans. And I could wear a shirt that’s even more burnt and even more oranger. Sure we Texas fans are good right now, but we can get better.
“The other thing that I challenge all UT fans with is if you are going to be a great fan base that cheers for a team that goes undefeated, you have to be excited to play every week, and that's hard to do. A lot of fans can't do that because they don't get enough fiber, but that's part of the magic of being great fans. You have to be able to get rid of Oklahoma State yesterday, and you have to be able to get ready for Central Florida like now. If you can't do that then you are not one of the best fan bases in the country.”
Hook’em,
54b
PS. I just want to say that I love all my Longhorn brothers and sisters and I’m sorry if the above statement seems heavy hoofed. But sometimes you have to practice rough love if you’re going to break some eggs and hit a grand slam.
posted by 54b at 8:56 AM
New commentaries posted on Thursdays following games.