THE ONLY PLAYCALL YOU WILL EVER NEED. It's been a long year for Holgo, but be honest: he would say this in the middle of an undefeated season up fifty in the national title game.
If you are a defensive coordinator, or in fact have ever successfully run more than two defenses on "Heisman" difficulty on NCAA 2012, please send your CV to West Virginia University's football offices. This is not a joke. You stand a perfectly good chance of being their next defensive coordinator.
THE NCAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY. Is now so utterly full of shit they've come close to a kind of naked honesty about their 100% shit rating. (THE NCAA: CONTAINS 3% REAL JUICE.) They will consider anyone not testifying in their case against Nevin Shapiro to be guilty until they testify, meaning they will take the word of a Ponzi-scheming asshole as evidence, and then proceed with their case as they like.
This will lead to the punishment of a university the athletes and coaches have long since left under rules the NCAA is making up as they go. Be clear: this isn't a criminal case, or a civil case, or even small claims court. In fact, it resembles nothing like any code, system, or regimented order of any sort. This is an organization devoted to protecting unpaid labor it uses to sell a basketball tournament sold to networks. It is involved in football at the behest of those seeking to protect the profits they receive from unpaid or underpaid labor on their side.
No one is in charge. There is just someone making up rules as they go, and now definitely crafting them to create outcomes favorable to their interests. They can do this: they have the permission of the schools involved, and have it for all the reasons listed above.
And you know it's bullshit in the purest form, and bullshit in the sincerest definition of the word because bullshit is not concerned with lying because lying by definition acknowledges a truth. Bullshit doesn't even care about that: bullshit exists for its own sake, just flopping into this world with no justification but "hey, look, bullshit."
And there, in the lovely chaos of last weekend, is that stinking pile of bullshit someone had to leave on the floor. Combined with realignment crashing into the headlines, this reminds you that liking college athletics is basically volunteering for an autoimmune disease or drug addiction. You get one weekend--one hazy, delirious weekend where pleasures were not singular, and in fact stacked atop one another in a satanic Monte Cristo sandwich of deep-fried indulgence. After the Oregon and K-State games, after college football had thrown the chairs into the swimming pool and put pornography on every television while cutting up lines on the suite's wet bar with a survival knife, shit, of course you were watching late night Pac-12 football and not even questioning it.
Then the bill came, and then housekeeping, and then--after housekeeping ran out screaming--the police were called, and then bribed because the police are not here to preserve order, but to take money for not arresting you. That's what the police in college athletics do: they are a tax you pay to preserve the next weekend's revels and appease whatever assjacks have decided that any of this is, or ever was legitimate in the least.
You'll be back next weekend. So will we, and then we'll have this whole awkward hangover/bribery brunch all over again.
Um, links.
EVERYONE HATES BIG TEN EXPANSION. No really, every single person in the world thinks it's the stupidest idea ever. But hey: new rivalry training is fun, and so are pinworms.
HE WOULD THINK THAT. Notice that Nick Saban did not say what he thought Gene Chizik had done a great job of doing, exactly. Keep the dream alive, Krystal marquees of Auburn.
WE KNOW YOU MISS PUBLIX, URBAN. You can be paid to say Kroger is your preferred grocery store, but we know in your heart you crave the green labels of home.
MIKE LEACH IS GOING TO MAKE YOU DO SO MANY BURPEES. Or "pirate burpees," which is where you have to do them one-legged because "a whale ate the other one."
ETC: That's a textbook dropback. OHHHH, ROCKET FUEL MALT LIQUOR.