Posts Tagged ‘College Football’

Taylor Martinez had a story come out on CBS Sports’ web page a few days ago.  It was, to be perfectly honest, a fairly un-noteworthy piece.  It wasn’t particularly revelatory, incendiary, or chalk-full of candid talk from the soon-to-be-fifth-year senior at Nebraska.  It was mainly just a brief piece that attempted to give us a little insight into an enigmatic, mysterious player that is constantly rumor-mongered about in the state of Nebraska.  I don’t think that it did any of that.  There was one piece of the story that did jump out at me.  One stunning, eye-opener, that was casually atom-bomb-dropped on us as though it was of lesser significance.

Here’s the link for the story.

In case you didn’t want to stop over and read the article.  Here’s what the headline looked like:

What?!?!?

What?!?!?

And here’s what I saw when I read the headline:

!?!?

!?!?

The article, which was fine in the same way that eating Vanilla ice cream tastes good (*Author’s note: nothing against the author.  Martinez seems more guarded than Guantanamo Bay around media types and I truly don’t blame him.) didn’t really touch too much on the App part of the headline but that was what intrigued me.

The article briefly alludes to Martinez’s enjoyment of playing the stock market and of his hobby of creating iPhone apps within the first  3 paragraphs.  He went from a monotone, unintelligible purveyor of clichés to The Most Interesting Man in the World.  Suddenly the possibilities were endless for what Martinez could be doing in his free time.

What if he was actually a savant?  A boy-genius that was misunderstood?  What if he was not going to be playing on NFL scout teams to simulate Colin Kaepernick next year, but kicking it with Gordon Gecko on Wall Street or hanging with Mark Zuckerberg in a tech lab?

Before I let this sled dog team of inane thinking run away with me, however, one key piece of this article kept sticking out.  Taylor Martinez was a creator.  Of phone apps.  The only one they mentioned in the article was a puzzle-type game involving pattern repetition called, “Follow the Pattern.”  That got me thinking. . .

What other games might Taylor Martinez have invented for iPhone?  He’s had some free time this offseason.  In between trying to hold off the on-rushing tidal wave of co-eds and working on his throwing motion, here are a few of the games I found on iPhone’s App Store that appear to have been created by none other than Taylor Martinez.

Chasebook

Sleeve Tats, Red Hair, and social networking. . .

Sleeve Tats, Red Hair, and social networking. . .

This relatively new app is a terrifically entertaining game, based on the highly regarded life and times of former Husker Chase Rome, that allows you to choose from these hilarious options the moment you open it up:

If you select “no.”  Here’s what pops up on the next screen:

Tough one, right?

Tough one, right?

It goes on like this for roughly 256 levels.  The fun never stops.  That’s the whole game.  You see, the fun part is quitting, changing your mind, and then quitting again.  It’s great!

For Whom the Bell ‘Fros

Shout out to Hemingway!

Shout out to Hemingway!

This game, based incredibly loosely on the novel by Ernest Hemingway, is all about ‘Froing people Kenny Bell style.  You have a teacher that’s driving you wild?  ’Fro ‘em.  Parents won’t get out of your room, tweenagers?  ’Fro those misunderstanding parents.  Not only will your parents look like they had their hair styled by a soul train dancer, but they just might develop into the best wide receiver Nebraska’s seen in years.

Check out defensive coordinator John Papuchis after he got Bell ‘Fro’d:

As you can see, this one's still in Beta.

As you can see, this one’s still in Beta.

The fun never ends.  As you can see from the terribly placed ‘Fro, this one’s still in Beta.

T-Magic The Gathering

Like a card game. . .but on your phone.

Like a card game. . .but on your phone.

This one appeals more to the fantasy nuts out there. As the cards in the deck are played, using up your Martinezmana, you attack your opponent.  Based on what kind of deck/cards you have, you are then able to either Oklahoma State 2010 someone or they will Wisconsin 2011 you.  It’s kind of complicated, but just know this: phonecardgames are about to taste the majesty of a T-Magic revolution.

And finally, the Magnum Opus of Martinez’s iPhone App creations:

Angry Bos

Run, piggies.  Run!

Run, piggies. Run!

This game has gone totally viral.  In it you bombard your pig-like nemeses with none other than the angriest of all birds, Bo Pelini.  Each bird has a different colored crewneck, as well as a different Bo-Pelini-is-probably-going-to-murder-you-than-cannibalize-your-dead-body Pelini face.  You play through various levels, attempting to destroy, explode, and bomb everything in your way.  You know, just kind of treat the pigs like the referees that are constantly out to destroy your team and everything that’s good and just in the world.

These are just a few of the marvelous Apps that Martinez has developed.  The future looks bright for this budding young techno-whiz.

FIN

Every year when I was a kid we would all spend time decorating up our little paper bags, glue-gunning hearts and glitter and any number of toxic items all over our Valentine’s Day Drop-Bag.  We would put them out on our desks and everyone would take a turn dropping off their Valentine and/or treats and we’d get to look at them at the end of the day. This year, to celebrate V-Day in a digital age, I put out a Valentine’s Day Digital Drop-Bag with the hopes that I’d get some goodies.

You won’t believe who left me Valentine’s Day cards.  The first picture is the front of the card and the second is the inside.  Check it out:

Bo Pelini stopped by and left a card:

Bo's V-DayBo Deux

LeBron James took time out from annihilating the league to stop by as well:

LBJLBJVday

So did his teammate and BFF, Dwyane Wade:

Still can't figure out where to put the "Y"

Ndamukong Suh even left me a card:

SuhSlide11

Wait, LeBron left two?  And this one was also just signed “Latrell?”:

Slide5 Slide6

Tony Romo sent us a card:

Slide12 Slide13

Wow, Lawrence Phillips took time out from his un-busy schedule to send us some love?  You shouldn’t have, LP:

Slide20 Slide21

Manti Te’o broke his self-imposed social networking gag order just for us:

Slide14 Slide15

Lance Armstrong?  I bet his Valentine’s Day was a ball:

Slide16 Slide17

Ray Lewis’ card killed it:

Slide22 Slide23

Brett Favre even hooked it up:

Slide18Slide19

And, OMG, look who left me a card!?!?!?:

Slide7 Slide8

FIN

On Wednesday, February 6th, 2013 Coach Bo Pelini held a press conference to discuss the Nebraska Cornhuskers’ newest football recruiting class.  It was National Signing Day.  A day when sports nerds, multi-million dollar football programs, message board hacks, and 18-year-olds collide and are shaken-not-stirred into a blended up cocktail of high expectations and suspended realities.  Normally it’s a day for unfettered speculation and anxiety-fueled prognostication.  We try to see into the future using not a crystal ball, but a crystal football trophy as our guide.  Sometimes it works, plenty of times it doesn’t. 

On Wednesday, February 6th, 2013 Coach Bo Pelini held a press conference to discuss the Nebraska Cornhuskers’ newest football recruiting class.  But something else stole the show.  It wasn’t a 4-star recruit with stunning measurable.  It wasn’t a Ju-Co prospect who had been tapped by talk-radio shows and breathless scouting analysts as a guy who could make an “immediate impact.”  In fact, it wasn’t a player at all.  It was Bo Pelini’s forehead.

There, affixed to his $2.875 million dollar head was a lump.  A seriously noticeable, sizeable knot had appeared in the upper left side of his forehead.  Being that this is Nebraska and being that there is little else for us to do this time of year, speculation ran rampant.  But what really happened to Bo Pelini’s forehead?  He claimed that he ran into a pole, but haven’t we seen enough Bo Pelini pressers to know that “truth” and “media truth” are often times tossed out completely in favor of coachspeak?  I was less interested in the recruiting class than the fact that Bo showed up looking like he’d just cheated on Elin Nordegren and tried to escape her 3-wood in an Escalade. 

Here are just a few of my theories on what really happened to Bo Pelini’s forehead.

-  He carpooled in to work with Ndamukong Suh.

image

Suh only got a D+ in Driver's Ed.

- He can’t deny his ancient, primal instincts. It’s science. Just check the fossil record:

image

Shoot her!! Shoot her!!

- He has been trying his hand at the other football:

image

- This is how he spends most of his weekends during the offseason:

image

Is Bo, in fact, a pikey?

FIN

Yesterday the news broke that Bill Callahan was being accused of “Sabotaging” the Oakland Raiders in Super Bowl XXXVII by Hall of Fame receiver Tim Brown.  Brown made claims that Callahan had changed the team’s gameplan two days before the actual game and that he had done so in an effort to torpedo his team’s chances of winning it all.  Callahan’s motivation for purposefully tanking the most important game in United the States’ Sporting world?  He hated the Raiders and he was good friends with opposing head coach, Jon Gruden.

It’s been kind of a tough week already for famous Billy C’s.  First, former president Billy C. got nailed for scoping out Kelly Clarkson’s booty during the inauguration on Monday:

and now these accusations against our beloved, warmly regarded Callahan.

At first I was appalled by these heinous accusations.  I spent ten minutes yelling at the T.V. “Don’t point the finger, you point the thumb, Tim Brown!”  Before I was fully able to calm myself down.  If these reports were true, why, they would tear asunder the majestic tapestry that is Bill Callahan’s legacy as a football coach.  They would shed doubt on a golden era of Husker football in which the revered Billy C. was able to cement his legacy as one of the sharpest, most brilliant minds in the game.

While I firmly believe that this a steaming load of B.S. that Tim Brown is desperately shoveling, I can’t help but be intrigued by the idea that, perhaps, Bill Callahan has been intentionally losing games for years.  What if Billy C. is really only in coaching so that he can periodically and systematically lose games?  What would his motivation be?  How would he reach the decision to be a serial, on-purpose loser?

Call me Keanu, people, because I’m about to become. . .the Devil’s advocate.

Keanu Reeves reference # 3,457

Keanu Reeves reference # 3,457

-  September 11, 2004                    Southern Miss: 21 Nebraska: 17

In just Callahan’s second game as a Nebraska head coach, rumors begin to swirl that he may have purposely lost the game.  Prior to kickoff he can be seen exchanging open-mouthed kisses with Southern Miss cheerleaders and is rumored to have been text-message-buddies with former Southern Miss alumnus, Brett Favre.  Callahan allegedly tells the team before the game, “And, hey guys. . .if we lose?  It’s really not the end of the world.  Trust me.  I’ve lost plenty of times.  And look at me now.  Right?!?  Right?!?  Now get out there and just, I don’t know, kind of see what happens!”  As time runs out, the Huskers have a chance for one final play.  Callahan reaches deep into his bag of tricks and draws up a play.  It looks like this:

Coaching genius

Coaching genius

Joe Dailey inexplicably follows Callahan’s coaching instructions and runs directly out of bounds as time expires instead of throwing it into the endzone.  A season later he will refer to Callahan as “Billy C.” at a press conference and will end up transferring to North Carolina.  Callahan’s game-throwing ways were just beginning at Nebraska.

-  October 9, 2004                    Texas Tech: 70 Nebraska: 10

Callahan reads the weekly spread he receives from his bookie, Charlie “The Cockatoo” Covaccio, before he has on his glasses the morning of the game.  Mistakenly believing that the spread is “65″ instead of “6.5″ he decides to really sabotage this game.  He is seen before the game at a pirate-themed strip club, sharing cocktails and discussing hair-grooming techniques with Mike Leach, which leads many to believe that they are, indeed, #bffs4lyfe.

Nebraska becomes the first team to be recognized by the NCAA as legally taking a dump on the 50-yard-line and Callahan loses 300 grand due to his gambling miscue.  He pulls that money out of his couch cushions and proceeds to laugh hysterically.

-  October 22, 2005                    Missouri: 42 Nebraska: 24

Despite being 5-1 at the time, Callahan’s illicit relationship with Missouri quarterback Chase Daniels leads him to, once again, purposefully toss a game.  We here at Burnpoetry have obtained an exclusive transcript of his pre-game speech to the team.  Here it is:

Whatever.”

Word is leaked quietly that during the team’s meetings prior to this game, Callahan repeatedly attempts to “ask Corso” for offensive plays and shows the team a 15 minute long slideshow of photos of himself and Chase Daniels on their retreat to Cabo San Lucas set to music from Kenny G.’s latest album, calling it “important film study.”

-  November 5, 2005                    Kansas: 40 Nebraska: 15

Callahan and KU Coach, Mark Mangino, exchange this necklace during the pre-game warmups:

and then pinky swear that “no matter what, we’ll always totes be there for one another.”  Callahan can be seen laughing and crying on his way back to his own sideline.  His friendship entangles his play calling and at halftime Callahan can be heard calling the opposing locker room and telling Mark Mangino, “no you hang up.”  Despite his claims that his team played hard, Callahan has a post-game, candlelit dinner for Mangino and himself at Golden Corral.

-  December 2, 2006                    Oklahoma: 21 Nebraska: 7

During the Big XII Championship game Callahan can be heard explaining that “It’s just, like, so cold out here.  I can’t be expected to call plays when my chapstick is frozen onto my face.”  For the entirety of the first quarter when his assistant coaches ask him to send them a play call his answer is repeatedly, “Well, first, tell me where my Starbucks Mochachino and my fox-skin gloves are.  Then I will give you the damn play.”  Rumors swirl after the game that he keeps mumbling Bob Stoops’ name in his sleep, during his patented second quarter nap.

After the game Callahan will inadvertently admit that him and stoops are “homies.”  And that they are both members of the notorious street gang “The Northern Peaks Suburb Ryderz.”  Fellow “Ryderz” member, O.J. Simpson, declined to comment when Burnpoetry reached him in his prison cell.

-  September 22, 2007                    Nebraska: 41 Ball State: 40

Callahan accidentally wins a game against a MAC school.  Ball State kicks a field goal for the win that just misses and Callahan can be heard screaming, “C’mon, baby!  C’mon, babbyyyyyyyy!”  while the kick is in the air.  In a related near-tragedy, a young Nebraska fan named Chris Hatch very nearly has an aneurysm while driving his car, due to the near-miss, and Callahan very nearly has more blood on his hands.  Word quickly spreads that Callahan often plays bridge with Ball State Coach Brady Hoke’s mother-in-law’s sister’s babysitter’s Aunt.  His connections leave Callahan emotionally conflicted but, nevertheless, he escapes with a win.

-  October 6 – November 3, 2007                    Opponents: 226 Nebraska: 98

In an effort to destroy Nebraska football once and for all, Callahan hires an impersonator and fellow con artist by the name of Rod Blagojevich to coach the team.

During this time period he goes deep undercover and works as a grad assistant for each of the five schools that beat Nebraska during this time period.  Going by the name, Cill Ballahan, he not only aids and abets the Viking-raider style pillaging of Nebraska’s dignity, but he also illegally finances Blagojevich’s seedy political ambitions.  In a move that he doesn’t see coming, however, Blagojevich flips the script and hangs 73 points on  K-State.

Getting cockier by the day, Blagojevich abandons the team and heads off to the political world, forcing Callahan to re-take the reins.

-  November 23, 2007                    Colorado: 65 Nebraska: 51

Callahan spends the entirety of the pre-game week smoking highly potent marijuana in the team meetings and mangling the lyrics to “Rocky Mountain Way.”  He petitions the NCAA for a final game, in an ill-fated attempt to start at quarterback for Nebraska but is denied.  On Thanksgiving night, the day before the game, Callahan requires his entire team to run stairs at altitude for being, “Buzz kills” while he plays hackey sack with Dan Hawkins.

His team becomes suspicious that the two might be secretly best bros when Callahan and Hawkins can be seen showing off their matching friendship bracelets and singing a duet of “I’m All Out of Love” by Air Supply.

Steve Pedersen is fired and Callahan’s demise is finally sealed as Tom Osborne rides in on a snowy white stallion, walks across water that consequently turns to wine, and boots him out onto the cold hard pavement.

But those are just some theories I have.

FIN

We’ve covered it extensively.  Manti Te’o's fake-dead, fake-girlfriend was fake.  He might have been Catfished.  He might have been Moby Dicked.  Whatever the case may be, the weight should be off the shoulders of other college football players/coaches.  Why don’t we all just open up our closets, drag those skeletons out and parade them around like it’s Weekend at Bernie’s 3?  C’mon, college football.  It’ll feel really good.

Who’s first at trying out this whole “truth” thing?  Anyone?

-  Bo Pelini

“I’m actually a really nice guy.  When you see me yelling things at my players on the sidelines I’m not f-bombing them.  I’m shouting out things that look exactly like the F- word.  I’m a big hockey fan.  I also have several years of undiagnosed head-trauma from my time playing saftey at Ohio State.  This has led me to having a lot of very real, very serious outbursts about how frustrated I am with the National Hockey League’s lockout.  I find myself shouting out about how much I miss the pucks.  I also love Nintendo.  My favorite game?  Duck hunter.  You’d see that I’m saying “Duck hunter”  if the ‘hunter’ part wasn’t always blurred out too.  Truck.  Chuck.  Luck.  See what I mean?”

-  Lane Kiffin

“I’m not actually that awesome.  I know, I know.  It’s hard for you to believe, too.  I get that.  It’s tough for anyone to believe that, considering  how terrifically, mountain-peak, marble-statue great I appear to be at everything.  But take if from my athletic director. . .I’m really not 100% awesome.  I’m hovering somewhere in the 99th percentile, with you mere mortals.”

-  Johnny Football

“My last name’s actually Manziel.  What, you mean you knew that?  Well, shit, that was my only revelation.”

-  Kenjon Barner

Ken:  ”Our name’s actually pronounced ‘Ken Jon’ Barner.”

Jon:  ”And that’s because I’m actually two people.  We are identical twins.”

Ken:  ”Coach Kelly has been using us to keep opponents off balance.  We wear the same jersey number and look almost exactly the same.  No one has noticed.”

Jon:  ”Thank you, Manti.  For allowing us the freedom to come forward.”

-  Mack Brown

“I’m through denying it.  I’m actually from New Hampshire.  This southern drawl?  It’s all an act.  I learned how to speak like this by watching hours and hours of Slingblade.

-  Montee Ball

“I’m not sure how to pronounce my own first name.  It’s a serious affliction that affects only 1 in 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 star running backs.  I will, henceforth, be changing my first name to Sohard, in the hopes that dyslexics everywhere will get the joke.  A gamble, I know.  But that’s a risk that, frankly, I have to take.”

-  A.J. McCarron

“Two days after the National Championship game, Brent Musburger started dating my girlfriend.”

-  Bill Snyder

“I am 2,000 years old.  Kansas State University has discovered the way to keep me immortal.  Sure I may look exactly like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons but, hey, when you consider the fact that I was Jesus’ Pop Warner coach, I think I look pretty good.  All the university has to do is supply me with the fresh brains of living humans and a nice, cool, cryogenic chamber for me to retire to every night after feasting on human flesh and I can coach forever.  Do you hear me?!?!  FOREVER!!!!”

-  Brady Hoke

“Artie Lange and I routinely switchlives throughout the season and no one knows.  Some nights, when I feel like I’ve honed my standup act enough, I’ll just call him up and we’ll swap.  Other times, if he thinks he’s got a couple good play calls, he just shoots me a text and then, kaboom!, he’s the head coach at Michigan.”

-  O.J. Simpson

“I did it.”

(*Author’s note: Whoa, wait a minute. . .how did that find its way into this post?)

-  Collin Klein

“I really have nothing to hide.  Oh, did I mention that my head coach is a 2,000 year old almost-zombie that we have to unfreeze and give human blood just so that he can survive?  There’s that, I guess.”

-  Joe Paterno

“I’m alive.”

FIN

I’m not entirely sure what the hell is going on.  Yesterday I thought I had a relatively decent, surface-level, idea of who Manti Te’o was.  I think a lot of sports maniacs like myself did.  Hell, I think a lot of casual sports fans recognized his name, his skill on the football field, and his “story.”  Manti’s story, up until yesterday, was inspirational.  It was rare.  It was about an exceptionally skilled player overcoming exceptional off the field adversity and somehow using the heat of his own anguish to forge himself into something bigger than the game.

Turns out, we didn’t know jack.

image

(*Author’s note: this feeling isn’t particularly new to me, but some of you may be unaccustomed to realizing that, really, we’re all kind of schmucks.)

For those of you living in a Ted Kaczynski-style shack or dwelling in a secret underground bunker, I’ll catch you up briefly.  This fall, senior Notre Dame linebacker Manti Te’o was all over the news.  You see, he was playing really well and his “story” had just become something of an inspirational tale of fighting through different layers of personal grief.  We were told that Te’o had lost both his Grandmother and his girlfriend within the span of 6 hours.  They had both died of diseases — his girlfriend’s, we learned, was leukemia — and, shortly thereafter, he had emerged onto the field to play a heart-wrenchingly emotional game that captivated the country.

The Fighting Irish won in an upset that night and, after riding the emotion and physicality of their star linebacker (*Author’s note: and catching a few insanely lucky breaks) they ended up playing in the BCS National Title Game.

Notre Dame got exposed by Alabama that night.  They got de-pantsed, drug kicking into the light.  They were revealed to be impostors.  The curtain was unceremoniously ripped back and we didn’t much like what we saw.

Yesterday we found out what fraud really is.

You see, Manti Te’o's girlfriend wasn’t actually dead.  They hadn’t met at a football game.  She wasn’t the “most beautiful person he’d ever met” and he wasn’t “honoring her passing with his play on the field.”

Not only was she not dead.  She had never lived.  She didn’t exist.  She was a figment of someone’s imagination.  A puff of smoke.  A David Copperfield illusion that, after a few abra-cadabra’s seemed real enough until we watched things back in slow motion.

Yesterday evening the University of Notre Dame Athletic Director claimed that Te’o had been the victim of an elaborate and devious prank that had taken advantage of his innocence and his belief in his, *sniff* *sniff*, fellow man.

But you probably already knew all of this.  You probably have heard about Manti’s situation, ad nauseam, for the past 1.5 days.  I’ll leave the rest of the digging to the real professionals.

What I want to know more about is Lennay Kekua.  That’s the fake-dead fake-girlfriend of Te’o.  Who is she really?  Who was behind this scam?  Was he in on it?  What else isn’t Manti telling us?  Let’s talk this thing out together.

- So Manti found out about his fake-dead, fake-girlfriend being a hoax only a week and a half before his team gets completely slaughtered by the Alabama Crimson Tide, huh?  Weird.  I wonder if we know any evil, sociopathic geniuses with enough money and intelligence to perpetrate this kind of crime in an effort to completely disrupt Notre Dame’s best player. . .but who could seamlessly pass themselves off as a beautiful woman while secretly scheming to destroy someone?  Who?!?!

Lennay?

Lenick Saban?

-  Manti’s girlfriend was fake?  What next?  We find out his tattoo was actually purchased from a machine at Wal-Mart’s entrance for $.50?

-  We here at Burnpoetry have obtained an exclusive, secret photo of the floor of Jack Swarbrick’s office on the day he first was told about Te’o's fake-dead fake-girlfriend.  Here it is:

Unusual Suspect?

Unusual Suspect?

-  I feel like, somehow, this will all get tied back to being LeBron James’ fault.  Or do I just wish that?  I’m not sure.

-  How was it possible for anyone to get less laid than Tim Tebow while being almost as big of a school celebrity?

-  Unfazed by this bizarre turn of events, Brent Musburger was overhead claiming that he’d “still be willing” to creepily leer at Lennay Kekua.

-  Are we going to find out that Te’o's actually been dating a program from the Matrix?  The Internet is taking over, people.  Brace yourself for the machine apocalypse.

-  Te’o's friends first became suspicious about his new girlfriend they were first introduced at his home:

Te'Ohhellno. . .

Te’Ohhellno. . .

-  When reached for comment, Oprah’s publicist would only say, “NNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

-  I feel like, at any moment, Te’o could come forward and tell us that his name is actually Bryan Smith, he’s not a Mormon and he has just been preternaturally gifted with a sweet, sweet tan.

-  The only logical explanation here is that Te’o and Chris Hansen of Dateline NBC are going to have a joint press conference at some point this week where they both announce that, in an elaborate cross-promotional tie-in involving Notre Dame’s contract with NBC, Te’o was involved in a top-secret sting operation and that, indeed, they did catch a predator.

FIN

At what point does a cliché become too cliché to even write about?  We still have countless Rom-Coms that feature an emotionally fragile girl who is uncharacteristically drawn to a just-below-the-surface equally damaged bad boy and they both teach each other how to love, to feel human, and to laugh while crying.  We have hundreds upon hundreds of bitingly sarcastic, hacky, sports blogs that attempt to hate on everything in humorous, pop-culture laden ways (*Author’s note: uh-oh).

It’s taken me a long time to drum up the necessary resolve to try to write my yearly “Husker Season in Review” column.  The simple fact is, I could have written the same thing this year as last year.  I could have copied and pasted what I wrote in 2011 for 2013 and no one would be the wiser.  Here’s what I wrote in 2011:

 I still believe that Bo’s the man for the job.  I aways have.  But this season Bo’s “growing pains” as a head coach seemed to be far too much “pain” and not enough “growth.”  Do I expect Nebraska to ever get back to the gilded era of the 1990′s when we treated other teams like railroad stakes and we were John Henry?  Do I expect a coach/politician that can deftly win 3 national titles then seamlessly transition to Capitol Hill?  No and no.

But at some point Bo Pelini is going to have to realize that here at Nebraska, a place where football is law, we need a judge not a bailiff; someone who’s more Osborne than Charlie McBride.  To do so he’ll have to deal with the local media, in spite of their pestering questions about things as inconsequential as his birthday presents.  He’ll have to turn his boiling rage at blown officiating calls down to a simmer.  And, finally, he’ll have to deal with his coaching staff — including canning an ineffectual offensive coordinator and realizing that sometimes loyalty can quickly turn to stubbornness if unchecked.

Here’s what I wrote in 2012, after our season ended in the Capital One Bowl with a loss to an SEC team:

 After a good deal of group therapy, introspection, drinking, and aromatherapy I have finally come to terms with the season that was.  It was a rough year for my fanhood.  Coming in, we didn’t want to see the wheel reinvented.  We just wanted four wheels all rolling in the same direction.

The 2011 season was a 15-year-old learning to drive a stick-shift for the first time.  We got spastic, jumpy leaps in the right direction.  We got a program that was lurching forward, then dying, then lurching, then slamming on the brakes.  What was the most disappointing part of the 2011 season?  The fact that it was more of the same.

More uninspired home losses to lesser opponents.  More blowouts on big stages.  More issues with Bo getting testier and testier to the point of detest.  In a year we were looking to take a big step forward, instead we got on the treadmill.  We ran.  We jogged.  We worked up a pretty good sweat and got in a decent workout.  But when we stepped off?  We were in exactly the same place.

It’s tough to figure out something new to write, when your subject matter just stays the same.  I feel like I’m a much, much sexier version of Bill Murray in Groundhog Day.  I’m sure I’ve written that about 134 times in the last 3 seasons of football.  It’s starting to feel like square one is actually just a prison fence keeping us in and there’s no Morgan Freeman around to help us carve our way out to freedom.

There’s a perpetual glitch in the Matrix that causes us to see the same damn thing over and over again.  The most frustrating thing is that it’s really, really hard for us to keep caring.  And even those of us who care a little too much, we’re starting to lose that iron-fisted, white-knuckled grip on our constantly positive outlook.  This was one of the stranger seasons in Husker football memory for me, and certainly the strangest since 2007 B.C. (*Author’s note: Botched by Callahan).

Husker fans seemed listless.  They seemed ground down and emotionally vulnerable.  Husker fans struggled to support our team, full-bore, and we wore it on our red and white sleeves.  Our glasses were half-empty this season and, right from the very UCLA-tanking start, we were too worn down to even try to signal a bartender to fill it back up.

Nebraska fans are knowledgeable.  We know that 10 wins is good, but that each chapter in the Pelini Novel that features 9-10 wins in bold print comes with 12 pages of footnotes and annotations talking about the 4-5 losses and multitude of missed opportunities.  We know that we’re in the North and the best football being played is in the south.  We know that, on a national stage, we’re no longer contending for Oscars but are actually just extras in many scenes.

Where does the fault lie?  There’re fingers pointing all around.  Many of them, the middle ones.  As we continue walking up the down escalator, there aren’t enough question marks in the world to express our confusion; our exasperation.  Do we need better players?  Coaches?  Schemes?

Whatever happened to the vaunted Pelini defense?  To his masterfully crafted defensive game plans?  And what, in the name of all things holy, happened to our Blackshirt defense?

(*Author’s note: I feel like now is as good a time as any to address our Federal Government to try to get some answers to the last question above.

Dear The Government,

Now that the fiscal cliff thing is over, now that the infighting and political logjam of negotiations has just gone back to its brutally stagnant waters of incremental movement, maybe we can have the Blackshirts back.  

I know what you did, the Government.  I know you’ve been performing mass mind-control experiments on our entire state, messing with us by switching out our entire defensive unit for a Division II school’s squad in a scientific study to better gauge the effect of mass hysteria during psychological warfare.  

Well, trust me, it’s worked.  We’re ready to give up.  I’m waving the white flag for all of us.  Now please, just move the F- on to North Korea and give us back our Blackshirt defense.

Sincerely,

Chris

P.S. I’m sure you already knew that since my computer, phone, and house are all undoubtedly bugged as part of your experiment.  Sorry for swearing so much, the Government.)

So, when breaking down another season of sameness, the question isn’t really “where did we come from”, anymore.  It’s “where are we going?”  Tom Osborne’s gone.  He’s riding towards a prairie sunset on his trusty white stallion and our little town needs a new sheriff.  Who’s it ‘gonna be?  Eichorst?  Pelini?  Somebody needs to step up, strap on, and jam their feet into the enormous shoes that Osborne’s left to fill.  If it’s a two-man, two-feet-per-shoe job, that’s fine, but we need leadership and guidance in the worst way.

Bo needs someone to challenge him.  He needs someone to keep him on his toes and constantly make him adjust his philosophy, scheme, and recruiting ideology.  We need better players and a we need a coach who is committed, willing, and even zealous in his approach to bring them to our great state.  We need a coach who enjoys every part of coaching.

Seasons of similitude are breeding grounds for discontent.  Eventually even the most devout treadmillers are going to want to run in a road race.  Dejectedness, turns to discontent, turns to disinterest.  Earlier this year I wrote that, for a major college football program, apathy is a fate worse than death.  Could we be in a worse situation?  Sure.  But do we deserve to be in a better situation than the one we’re in now?  Yes.

Bo Pelini is heading towards the gallows of predictability — on the field and off it — and he’s slowly, painstakingly, taking our fanhood with him.  I keep desperately hoping we’ll get a last-minute pardon, but at this point?  I feel like we’re dead men walking.

I’ll always bleed die-hard Husker Red, but it would be nice if I didn’t feel like such a hemophiliac.

Someone cue the Adele music.  I’ll be eating a quart of Ben and Jerry’s in my pajamas if you need me.

 

See you next season.  Same time.  Same place.  Different script.  I hope. . .

FIN

 

Well, it’s all over.  The college football season has come to a close.  Alabama forcefully slammed the book shut, like a petulant teen getting kicked out of class trying to make one last statement.  The hyperbole was there, cranked up to an excruciating 33.5 on the Musburger scale, but in the end?  The game didn’t deliver much.  Twitter was more excited about AJ McCarron’s girlfriend than the actual product we were witnessing on the field and Alabama was out to a hefty lead before you could say, “We need the playoffs. . . now!”  It all happened so fast that I’m not sure people even had a chance to fire up the always hilarious “toilet bowl” references.

Needless to say, it was another kind-of-terrible-to-watch BCS National Title game.  Was it the layoff?  One and half months since Notre Dame had even played an opponent.  Was it the disparity between the two teams?  Notre Dame looked completely outclassed on both sides of the ball, outcoached on the sidelines, and out-tattooed by McCarron.

Whatever the reason, this was another forgettably dominant performance by a team that is almost too good to enjoy watching.

I’m a proud Saban-hater.  I lead the charge to bring up his botched stint in the NFL and his disgraceful departure from the Miami Dolphins.  I love pointing out that if you just change the “b” to a “t” in his name then you’ll see his true colors come out.  I love pointing out that some of his players seem to speak some rudimentary, Cromagnon-style mashup of English and mushmouthian gibberish and that he’s clearly concerned about educating these young men.  I love referencing the fact that he’s the only coach who can beat Bo Pelini at his own attempted-verbal-genocide of the local media.  But none of that really matters, does it?  He just keeps winning.  And winning.

While Saban appears outwardly to enjoy his job as much as an alcoholic bartender, there must be something bringing him back.  Competitive fire?  Stadium-fulls of cash?  Whatever the case may be, last night we witnessed the best in the business at the top of his game.

Other Items of Note:

-  Pretty good thing we didn’t give Manti T’e'o the Heisman right?  He was, what, the 6th best player on the field at any given time?  Behind the entire offensive line of Alabama.  He did however, definitively have a better popularly referenced Tat than McCarron.

-  ”Dude, Jesse Williams has some awesome tattoos.  I bet that cost him at least 2 team trophies and 4 autographs.” – Ohio State players.

-  While Alabama was winning their 3rd national title in 4 years, there was another dynasty in the making on Monday night: the now-legendary combo of McCarron’s Mom/Girlfriend.  When this duo first hit the HD screens of America, I knew we were in for trouble.

In the history of over-exposed family members/spouses/famous-alumni-who-don’t-actually-matter-to-the contest-at-all, no one had ever approached the Magic-Lupe Line of Demarcation before.  This line, established from 2000-2010 by the apex-of-the-vortex duo of Magic Johnson and Michigan State Coach Tom Izzo’s wife, Lupe during the Spartans’ final four runs, had never before been challenged.  It was hallowed ground.  It was Wilt’s 100 points in a single game.  It was Edwin Moses’ 107 consecutive finals wins in the 400 Hurdles.

On Monday night, the McCarron’s Mom/Girlfriend combo toed the line.  They climbed the snowy peaks of Mount Toomuchtimeontv and planted their own flag.  They established a firm base camp a healthy 3/4 of the way up to the Magic-Lupe Line of Demarcation.  IN ONE NIGHT!!  When Alabama plays Texas A&M next season, whomever’s covering that game will more than likely have at least 4 cameras entirely devoted to Johnny Football’s girlfriend and the tag team champions of Monday night’s National Title game: McCarron’s Mom/Girlfriend.  Welcome to hell, football fans.

(*Author’s note: below is my highly scientific graph, displaying the Magic-Lupe Line of Demarcation.)

FIN

 

The Nebraska Cornhuskers’ 2012 football season is over.

RIP, yo.

With the Huskers’ loss to Georgia in the Capital One Bowl on New Year’s Day, a stunningly, jarringly wild journey has finally come to an end.  We can take off our seat belts and our carny friends in their grimy, pit-stained polos can take off the lap bars jammed down on the tops of our thighs.  We can climb shakily up from our deeply bucketed seats and try to find our footing on solid ground.  The ride is over.

The season ended with a tough loss to the University of Georgia.  While I will still crank out my “Season in Review” column, I’ll seek to touch on the bowl game itself today.

When I was a kid I used to watch MadTV for the half hour or so that it was on before Saturday Night Live came on.  It had a few skits that I really enjoyed and one of them was about a terrible dating service called “Lowered Expectations.”  As you can probably guess by the title, “Lowered Expectations” was a dating service that provided any number of losers/whack-jobs/strange characters a chance to try to find true love.  The introduction for the bit had two obese people, walking hand in hand near a drainage ditch with barbed wire.

I feel like Husker fans went into this bowl game like they were submitting a tape to the “Lowered Expectations” dating service.  We didn’t expect much.  We knew we weren’t quite in the same class as Georgia, talent-wise, and that if we did pull off a win it would be a pretty good-sized upset.  But we still wanted to see how things would play out.

I turned off the T.V. weirdly satisfied with a 14-point loss.  Maybe that’s what repeated curbstompings will do to you.  Maybe I’ve been so traumatized by losing by 35 and 40 points that – aw, shucks – if we can hang in there long enough against a good opponent, I’ll end up feeling like our boys should get a participation ribbon.  Capri Suns for everyone!  I know that a lot of Husker fans didn’t share my strangely-okay-with-it feel to taking our 4th loss of the season, and our third straight bowl loss, merely because it seemed that our effort was there, but that’s what I’ve been reduced to.

All the deficiencies of the regular season were still there on Tuesday, in various forms.  Although the Husker defense played very well at times, their inability to stop the Bulldogs from racking up big plays ultimately spelled their demise.

Often times the Husker defensive back was in the right position, at the right time, but simply couldn’t make a play on the ball when it was in the air.  Oh-so-close-but-really-so-far.  **MICROCOSM OF THE SEASON ALERT**

Taylor Martinez was good at times and frustratingly bad at others.  In an age of advanced statistics and Sabermetrics, nothing can quite quantify the type of impact Martinez has on the game.

The best way to describe what Martinez can do us in an advanced statistic I like to call “Taybermetrics” (*Author’s note: hiiiii-ooooohhhh!”).  This cutting edge, revelatory process pulls back the curtain on the enigmatic Husker QB just a enough to try to put his good/bad qualities on display.

The key to Taybermetrics hinges around the f- word, and its use once Martinez has the ball in his hands.  While in the past, we have only been able to determine the total number of F- words used to describe his play, now we have developed a key +/- stat to better capture what he actually does.

What Taybermetrics does, is balance out the times you drop F- Bombs at the amazing play he has just made (*Author’s note: the 92-Yard run against Wisconsin, where he looked like his blood could be distilled into pure rocket fuel) against the times you drop an F-Bomb about a terrible, game-altering decision to throw it into double coverage off his back foot (*Author’s note: read, every Huskers loss).

For instance he had a +5 Taybermetric rating from the home opener against Southern Miss, a game in which he threw for 345 yards and 5 touchdowns.  Against Ohio State, he had a Taybermetric rating of -9.  Unfortunately for Nebraska fans, too often this season Martinez’s Taybermetric score on Tuesday was a solid 0.  He was good-not-great and had some poor decisions.  The loss, though, didn’t fall solely on his shoulders.

Other items of note from the self-glossed #caponebowl:

-  The Capital One Bowl’s MVP?  It should’ve been the 2nd buffest referee in history(*Author’s note: Long live Hochuli!).

Every time this guy signaled a first down it looked like he was hitting his money pose at Mr. Olympia.  Each holding call was like watching a juicehead ripping through a set on the delts machine.  I thought he was going to ask someone to spot him when he signaled that it was halftime.  I couldn’t tell if he was signaling a first down, or telling us, “The Gym is THISSSSSSSSSSSSS way!.”  After the game was over someone should’ve dumped a Gatorade cooler all over this guy that was full entirely of protein shakes.  Also, does he have any eligibility left?

-  I know we know live in a society where everything has #s in front of them but shouldn’t the crew at ABC have realized that they were going to be confusing a bunch of people by shortening up the Capital One Bowl to the #caponebowl?  Did they really want to be associated with the kind of organized crime, corruption, and murder of Al Capone?  It left me wondering, what exactly would the winner of ‘The Capone Bowl’ get?  Federal Racketeering charges?  Kevin Costner hunting you down with the help of the Canadian Mounties?  Syphilis so bad that it literally rots your brain?  Maybe it’s a good thing we lost the Capone Bowl.  Just a #thought.  #sorry.  #lastone.

-  It is strange to think that 2 of the biggest cult heroes of Husker Football for my generation will be gone next year.  The Rexbox 360 will finally get unplugged and Cornhusker Jesus is retiring as the AD at Nebraska.  Both will be sorely missed, not forgotten, and wildly, recklessly cheered anytime they’re shown on the bigscreen at Husker home games from now on.  Adios, and happy trails to 2 of the classiest Huskers we know.

FIN

On Saturday night history was made at the Heisman Trophy Celebration.  Something momentous happened.  Something grand, beautiful and impressive.  Someone reached the pinnacle.  I am, of course, talking about Mike Rozier.  Rozier is the beloved Nebraska Cornhusker who won the 1983 Heisman trophy.  A man who I thought had climbed every mountain, achieved every bit of recognition he possibly could.  Then this happened:

History in the making. . .

History in the making. . .

I’m sure you already deduced this, but he’s the guy in the middle.

Here is just a brief account of what immediately ran through my mind when I saw Rozier rocking this suit.

-  That’s a suit-mullet: business down below and a party up top!

-  In an effort to distract everyone from Doug Flutie’s hair, Mike Rozier takes one for the team.

-  In his defense, there is a little-publicized, international plaid shortage and he didn’t want to take more than his fair share.

-  He looks like a heroin dealer who panicked during a police raid and tried to hide his torso underneath the family tablecloth.

-  “Excuse me, this is the Soul Train Dancer’s reunion, right?”

-  I hope he’s pointing that finger accusingly at his designer.

-  Stylist: Buck Nasty.

-  That outfit is 2 cocaine lines short of American Gangster.

-  I had heard Rozier was stuck in 1983, the year he won the Heisman, but I didn’t know they meant his wardrobe was too.

-  Stylist: Tim Burton.  On acid.

-  This suit would be perfectly normal and acceptable. . .if he was wading through chest high water like an extra in Titanic

I think the lifeboats are THIS way!

I think the lifeboats are THIS way!

- Damn you, 1080p.  Damn you.

-  Bless you, 1080p.  Bless you.

-  I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for why Rozier would wear this suit.  For instance, I’m sure that he probably was going to a magic show after the ceremony and was hoping that he could volunteer to be cut in half.

-  Stylist: Michael Jordan.

-  The only thing missing was Eric Crouch showing up in an f-ing Husker Snuggy.

- His hat’s saying Indiana Jones while his suit is saying Shaft.

-  Why, oh why, didn’t Manti Te’o just give him some of this stuff to wear to cover the suit up?

-  Stylist: bath salt hallucinations.

-  Rozier looks more like a Dick Tracy villain than a former Heisman Winner.

-  It looks like Martinez won’t be the most talked about Tailor in Nebraska anymore.

FIN