We waited out eight months like a boss. Like a ten year old kid starting his Santa list in the early months of Spring, we suffered through the monotony that is baseball, resisted the urge to vomit on the NBA parquet and tuned in as Costas blathered incessantly during the Olympics. Now it's time to rip open the presents and shake that Tannenbaum.
College football is here!
Ford's still full of Bull
I wanna hate so bad. I wanna loathe the opponent on Saturdays. I don't just wanna dislike them. I don't just wanna find them irritating and distasteful. I want to hate them to their core.
|They cheat this state. (via)|
For months now I've been alluding to Buffalo as Chan Gailey's team. Hey, I can count the number of things I know about Buffalo NY on one hand, and still have enough fingers left over to adequately grip a drumstick of fried chicken. One, I know it's cold. And two, I know they have a football team that misses field goals in the Super Bowl.
There. That's it. So back in January, shortly after Michigan State blocked Blair Walsh's redemption boot in overtime, I looked ahead to the 2012 season schedule and saw "Buffalo". I jumped to the conclusion that we would have yet another afternoon's worth of entertainment watching Reggie Ball count to four and other chantasticisms. That's not only something to look forward to, it is also something that fuels the hate just a touch.
The Buffalo Bulls, as in the University of Buffalo and not the AFC East professional team with one vowel derivation, do nothing for me. I'm glad we get a cupcake to tune up on. I'm eager to see the backups play as much as possible. I hope our confidence level is much higher tomorrow night than it was a year ago leaving the Dome.
All I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt if a "Bull" fan dropped by the tailgate tomorrow and said I talk too slow, or that grits are the food of a losing confederacy, or that Jasper's knee was not down.
Yes, I believe Al Ford went to the University of Buffalo. At least that's what I'm telling myself. Hate that sumbitch. To the core.
Some cheese with your entitlements?
Despite all the excitement of the season upon us, I still got angst y'all. It's been a couple years since we had our cupcake prior to the main course. LA Lafayette strolled into town in 2010 and didn't leave until we had icing smeared all over our faces and cake crumbs on our suspended #8 jerseys.
I hate it when side stories dominate the action on the field. And no matter how many ankles Keith Marshall breaks and how many baby bulls Jarvis sacrifices on Grantham's table, the headlines will be about the suspensions, or how inferior the opponent was. "Poor little buffwalo. Mean ol Richt hurt their wittle feewings."
Screw that. And some of you Dawg fans aren't in the clear either. You'll whine about the early kick. You'll lollygag your way into the tailgate...LATE! You won't even know the words to "Hail!"
|Sit and spin, Mr. McShitty Fan|
Yes you, wannabe Georgia fan with your unenthusiastic bark and your uninspired polo with the awkwardly large pit stains, Kurt Cobain called and wants his depression back. While you've been whining the Dawgs have been grindin'. You think Kolton Houston wants to hear your crap? You think Shawn Williams gives a good shit about your time of the month? Just stay home, or leave your tickets on the wall like the rest of your cronies. Plenty of decent fans ready to make a little Sanford Stadium noise. Hunker down with 92,000.
Yeh, we got this one covered Mr. Smells like Teen Spirit. For the rest of you, see ya tomorrow. It'll be September then. And football will finally be here.