A College Football Intervention

As Valentines Day approaches, I know that many of you are probably whispering softly to yourselves, “I wish I knew how to quit you College Football.” Hey, love hurts and sometimes the emptiness we feel inside just needs to be let out. And let this bitter, shameful burden out I shall with...

54B’S COMMENTARY – THE INTERVENTION EDITION

My name is 54b and I'm a College Footballoholic.

Although part of me will always know that abstinence makes the liver grow sober, if college football was played year-round, I probably wouldn't love it as much (because I'd be dead from Cirrhosis). But that doesn't make the eight long months between football seasons any less painful, nor does it make them go by any quicker.

Barely a month removed from the Longhorns miraculous BCS victory over the boys from Troy, and I'm already exhibiting symptoms of Early-Onset College Footballzheimer's Disease (what was the score again, oh yeah, 41 to 38). Most days I just wake up with Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Comes [sic]" in my head, hoping Chip Brown from the Dallas Morning News will send me another e-mail soliciting hard hitting questions for his weekly Texas football newsletter like "Why do they call it the red zone" and "How far up Mack Brown's ass can you stick your nose?" But alas, it's February and Chip is probably off oiling up his hair in preparation for the Two-man Luge Finals at Torino. At least he has something to do to pass the time. As for me, I guess I'll just go back to suffering in silence...or will I?

Are you like me? Does it burn when you pee? Whoops, I mean are you addicted to Texas Football too? Do you cry yourself to sleep every night burying your face in a DKR seat cushion? Do you make inappropriate advances on the postman when he delivers the next installment of your “Live The Dream Anthology” DVD collection? Or do you ever find yourself dressing up like one of Bevo's handlers and giving your dog bovine tranquilizers disguised as partially hydrogenated peanut butter? If so, apologize to all Texas fans no more my Mack Brown disciple, because you are not alone. For I have come up with a tried and true 12-step program to help all of us Texas football addicts survive the excruciatingly long college football off-season.

For purposes of anonymity and to avoid getting sued by A&M, who is currently in a bitter custody battle with Sesame Street over the number 12, I have chosen to call my program...

FRIENDS OF 54BILL W

Please follow along closely and do not skip ahead...

1) Around the end of January when the tremors start, admit that you are powerless over college football and give every penny from your tax return to the Longhorn Foundation so that you can keep your same season football tickets for next year. Sure, it's legalized extortion, but it is tax deductible and Women's Lacrosse really does need your love, people.

2) As Ash Wednesday approaches, come to believe that a power greater than college football will restore you to sanity. Of course if God's too busy helping Buck Burnette and other Longhorn recruits decide what college to attend, you can always do what I do and grab your Scully Day Planner or Palm Pilot and fill in next season's Longhorn Football schedule. Try it, I think you'll find it quite therapeutic.

3) On April 1st, make a decision to attend the spring game but not get so drunk that you miss Easter Vigil. I know the Orange/White game looks like a burnt orange oasis in the vast desert known as baseball season, but it's not, it's just a mirage. Sure, you may get a few players signatures on your Kelly T-Bar Pop Warner football helmet, but think how empty you'll feel inside when you're forced to sell it on ebay so you can afford your meds.

4) Spring cleaning time is almost over, so make an inventory of all your Longhorn paraphernalia. I know you have the Nike Coin Toss Game Day Coaches Shirt in both home and away versions. You may even own the Nike Quick Count Mock T with wicking agent. But do you have the Nike Cover-2 Jock Strap or Nike Dri-Fit Cufflinks or even the Nike Two-Minute Drill Throat Slash Ascot? If you don't merchandize, you can't accessorize. So get on over to Longhorns Limited and get your burnt orange on big boy.

5) Admit to Greg Davis that you were wrong about him and humbly ask forgiveness for purchasing the domain name: www.felch-greg-davis.com

6) Memorial Day is a good drinking holiday, but you have to stay focused. When the new season ticket order form arrives, make sure you remove all hope from your wife's mind that she'll be getting that new kitchen dinette set by purchasing tickets to every home and away game. Maybe the kids do need braces, but you know what? Achieving Platinum status with the Flying Longhorns isn't exactly cheap either. We all have to make sacrifices, I'm sure they'll understand.

7) Summer is here, it's time to start getting serious. Go to the break room at work and tape a note to the water cooler that reads, "Anyone who wants to beat Ohio State, meet me at the Corner Tap for dollar longnecks at lunch." HR may write you up and order you to take a psych evaluation, but at least you'll know who's serious. And as we all know, winning is 10% perspiration, 10% preparation and 80% inebriation. Don't sweat the technique.

8) Make a list of all the people you hurt and offended (a la “My Name is Earl”) at last year's tailgate parties, make every attempt you can to contact them, and tell them to buy a ticket, because don't you know the pain train is coming back to Austin baby. Oh yeah, if they can't take the heat, maybe they shouldn't stand so close to the grill next time. Hey, anyone could mistake the lighter fluid for the bottle of KC Masterpiece. It happens, and I'm pretty sure eyebrows grow back too.

9) Still two months out and you're feeling all alone. That's okay. Just find a cheerleader who misses football season almost as much as you do. If you can't find a cheerleader, call 1-800-SWEATER MONKEY, and for $4.99 a minute, one will be appointed to you.

10) On our nation's birthday, continue to take personal inventory and when you forget to do something really important like ordering Seatbacks for home games, admit it. Nobody is judging you here. If you want to feel better, do what I do and sing the

“Ode to the Might Seatback” song (Think Coors Light Wingman Commercial):

This chick's scootin' her butt into seat 3, row 4.
Her ass is like an anchor.
You can't outflank her
She's takin' up her seat and half of yours.

Noooooooooooo,

So you buy the chair,
Because fair is fair: Mighty Seatback

It's taking one for the team,
so your butt can live the dream:

Seatbaaaaaaack!!!

11) Two-a-days have arrived and I'm not talking about double fisting down at the Corner Tap. Football season is finally upon us. It's 120 degrees in the shade, USC is still losing 41-38 on ESPN Classic and Jerry Scarborough is emailing you a True Orange Jordan Shipley injury update every five minutes.
Congratulations, you¹re almost there. Celebrate a return to anxiety-ridden weeks of nervous anticipation by shitting your brains out with an issue of Dave Campbell¹s Texas Football.

12) Having received deliverance as the result of the previous 11 steps (and learning how to freebase Prozac), I implore you to share this message with others so that they too may get through yet another long, tumultuous off-season without incident, or an insanity plea.

Now if you¹ll excuse me, there¹s somebody I need to get in touch with and forgive...myself. Take care of yourselves and each other.

Your friend,
54b