Sons of Polynesia

OK, brief statement on the debacle in Berkeley.

That was one of the poorest performances I have witnessed in my long career as an armchair quarterback (more like sofa punter, but I digress). The sheer depth of fuck-uppery and ass-hatiness may never have been equalled in the history of modern organized sports. Buffaloes - you embarrassed yourselves and you embarrassed me. Yet I forgive you. Because I love just as my own offspring for you have chosen to be Buffs. Now get back out there and this time try really hard not to be so.... bad. K, thanks.

Moving on.

Well guess who's coming to town - Hawaii! God, I love it. I frickin' love it. For I have a long standing crush on [insert favorite deity's name]'s Chosen People. Yes, that's right - I love Polynesians. Don't get me wrong, I love all the people of all the races (Nebraskans excepted). It's just that I love Polynesians the most.

Why do I love them the most? Let me count the reasons.

Physical stature

Mother nature assembled a DNA cocktail heavy on braun and speed. As if she had football on her mind from the beginning. And of course she did.

Handsomeness

The islanders sport bronze skin, square jaws, broad smiles and... wew, is it getting hot in here? Hey is that Doug Bonnie?

Ferocity

The Polynesians, after all, are warriors. Battle is an ancient and revered part of their proud culture. But they perform it with honor and respect for their opponent - who they will eventually maim, kill, behead and make jewelry from. The most awesome modern display of this ferocity is portrayed in the war dance (Haka) performed pre-game by the Hawai'i football team. View this:

If you are an opposing player, you just shat yourself.

Style

These big, beuatiful bastards have style. There is much to love about a culture where grass skirts and flower necklaces are worn by men and women alike. And then there is the ukulele - a tiny guitar played by giants.

Homeland

Seriously. If there was ever a debate about who [insert favorite deity] loved most it would end with this statement: "And unto the Polynesians he/she gave... Polynesia."

Hair

The hair, it's fantastic. The long curly lochs. Flowing mane of pain! I'll be honest with you. Most white men with long hair look like either a) women or b) dirtbags. I can say this, I once had long hair - not a good look. But a Samoan man with long hair? Please. Women who see pictures of Troy Palamalu may become spontaneously impregnated.

Names

The Polynesian names are always, always the coolest on the roster. Such multi-syllabic, vowel-rific masterpieces are as fun to say as they are difficult to pronounce. Our own CU islanders include handles such as:

Liloa Nobriga

Max Tuioti-Mariner

Michael Sipili

Sione Tau

Kaiwi Crabb

And The Hawaii roster is predictably even more impressive, sporting such beauties as:

Alasi Toilolo

Kamalu Umu

Vaughn Meatoga

Ikaika Mahoe

London Sapolu

TJ Taimatuia

... the list goes on

So bottom line, friends. Nobody knows if we'll see the good Buffs who played a solid game and beat CSU soundly or the the bad Buffs who shat the bed at Cal. But what we do know is that on Saturday we will see plenly of the Chosen People on the turf of Folsom Field doing what they were genetically engineered to do - smash into opposing men with great passion and ferocity.

Come for the Haka, stay for the fun.

Colorfornia Golden Bearffuloes?

After a satisfying pantsing of CSU in game one, the Buffs move on to game two. And as I look at this next opponent I see a lot of, well, US. Behold the eery comparisons:

University of California	University of Colorado
State name begins with C, contain 4 syllables	State name begins with C, contain 4 syllables
Mascot: Golden Bears	Mascot: Golden Buffaloes
Local hero: Darian Hagan Jr.	Local hero: Darian Hagan Sr.
Community is frequently threatened by wildfires	Community is frequently threatened by wildfires
Non-native settlers first came to the state in search of gold	Non-native settlers first came to the state in search of gold
Town is inhabited by stinky hippies and wealthy liberal elite	Town is inhabited by stinky hippies and wealthy liberal elite
Rival: Red-clad, self important wankers led by rage-aholic nutjob	Rival: Red-clad, self important wankers led by rage-aholic nutjob
Coach: once among the hottest commodities in college football, now desperately trying to prove he wasn't a flash in the pan	Coach: once among the hottest commodities in college football, now desperately trying to prove he wasn't a flash in the pan

So, when I look at you Cal, it's like looking in the mirror. Beautiful.

That said, the Buffs are coming to your town, Bears, intending to commit unspeakable acts upon your mortal souls. It's like the biblical story of Cain and Abel in which one brother murdered the other and I can't remember which or why and that shit just seems wrong but sometimes a brother's got to get cut, you know? And that brother is you, Cain. Or Abel.

Klatt & Van Pelt Discuss the upcoming game

Welcome back to football, Buff fans! I am so thrilled to kick-off another exciting season of CU football.

But instead of boring you with my pedestrian analysis of the CU/CSU matchup, I will humbly give way to two men who understand this rivalry better than anyone. Ladies and gentlmen, I give you Joel Klatt and Bradlee Van Pelt!

[applause]

JK: Thank you, Buffalover, it's a real honor to be here to chat about the ever-exciting Rocky Mountain Showdown. And I am thrilled to be here alongside a tremendous college football icon, Bradlee Van Pelt. Bradlee put 'er there! [Smiles, extends arm for hand shake]

BVP: FAAAAAAAAAAAG! [Does not shake hand]

JK: [Slighly befuddled.] Ha, Bradlee, you are such a comedian.

BVP: Whatever, dickweed. What are we here for? To talk about the game? I call it the Rocky Mountain Blow Down! Cuz you blow and we gonna knock you down, YEAH! [Turns to high five side kick. Side kick not present.]

JK: Oh Brad, you never change, you rascal. So Buffalover invited us to give anaysis of the game. I'll start. I think this year's matchup figures to be a well balanced affair with both teams having something to prove. Steve Fairchild of CSU is steadily rebuilding the program and shocked the Buffs last year. Meanwhile, Coach Dan Hawkins enters his fifth season with many questions about his ability to get the job done. Bradlee, how do you analyze the trajectory of these two coaching staffs?

BVP: [Crosses eyes, makes wanking motion, sneers, spits tobacco juice into plastic cup.]

JK: OK. Moving on to the offenses... Colorado's squad has finally elevated Tyler Hansen to full time starting quarterback duty after two years of dueling Cody Hawkins for that job. Hansen will be surrounded by the most talent seen in Black and Gold since the arrival of Dan Hawkins. Meanwhile, CSU is rebuilding their offense after losing a number of starters including quarterback and much of the offensive line. So the experience edge goes to the Buffs, but with Steve Fairchild the offensive genius calling plays the Rams cannot be counted out. Brad?

BVP: The PUFFS just suck that's what I know, college boy! By the way, nice tie! Ooooh, I'm so impressed Mr. Important Person with, like, a job or whatever.

JK: Next let's look at the defenses. The Buffs have one of the best defensive backfields in college football with not one but two lock-down corners in Jimmy Smith and Jalil Brown. The linebacker core under the direction of Brian Cabral is bound to be solid. Much of the DL is young but possessing some great potential. Bradlee, how about you run down the CSU defense for us?

BVP: What? Sure, I'll run down the CSU defense for you, albino boy, and all you other jerk-off, communist, REAL-American-hating Boulder stinky hippies! The CSU defense will kick your ass, that's what! They're gonna rip off Taylor Branson's head and shit down is throat, WOOO! [Turns to high five side kick. Side kick not present.]

JK: Uh, that's Tyler Hanson.

BVP: Whatever, asswipe. You think you're smarter than me? You think that you went to some great freaking college or somethin'? That school is a joke, bitch. I don't care how many cosmo... astromen... space jockies you have! And you think you're so great because of the No-Bell Prizes and stuff. I mean what the fuck is a No-Bell Prize anyway? Bullshit I say.

JK: It's actually called the Nobel Prize and it's bestowed annually to the top...

BVP: [Chucks empty Coors Light can at Klatt giving Klatt a severe concussion.]

JK: Ouch! You know that's not very civilized, Bradlee.

BVP: "That's not very civilized, Bradlee." I'll show you civilized, fart knocker! [Turns, drops jean shorts to reveal hairy buttocks which he shakes and thusts in Klatt's general direction].

JK: [After stunned pause]. OK. I guess that about raps it up for this analysis. I'd like to thank Buffalover for having me on the show today. And as always, I'd like to thank Bradlee Van Pelt for his insightful analysis.

BVP: [Makes fart noises with his hands and lips.]

JK: Enjoy the game everyone.

Finally with *our* people

Friends of the Buffaloes,

We interrupt your pleasantly quiet off season for this important announcement:

The University of Colorado is joining the Pac-10 Conference

At long last, our destiny is fulfilled, we are with our people. The Pac-10: the domain of great research institutions, Nobel laureates, astronauts, fine arts, out-doors lovers, sophisticated alumni, liberal-mindedness and attractive people. Yes, this is where we've always belonged.

Need one more proof point? Mountains. 100% of all Pac-10 schools are within sight of actual mountains.

Exhibit A: Berkely

0% of the remaining 11 Big XII teams are within 200 miles of anything that resembles a mountain. They reside in flat, wretched wastelands.

Exhibit B: Lubbock

Frankly, I don't know why we were ever with those dorks. Sure, they may have been good at sports, but they had no style. We have style, we needed to be with people like us.

And think of the roadtrips - ugh! We were going to places like Lincoln, Ames, Columbia, Manhattan (KS), Lawrence, Stillwater, Norman, College Station, Waco, Lubbock and Austin (OK, Austin is cool). These places are the America that you do NOT want to see. Geographically unredeemable and inhabited by the slack-jawed and obese.

Never again. Now we'll go to lovely and sophisticated locales such as Berkeley, Palo Alto, Seattle, Eugene, Corvallis, Pullman (meh), Tempe, Tucson, Pasadena and Watts (the good part). Culturally relevant, progressive enclaves inhabited by the intellectual elite and handsome. Our people.

What's that? We may not be the only teams to join the Pac-10? Hmm, well I was just getting comfortable with the idea. But, hey, why not bring in a few more of the elite to join our cozy, charming conference? Wait - WHAT!? You want to bring in who else? Texas, Texas A&M, Texas Tech, Oklahoma and Oklahoma State? Aww crap, the neighborhood is getting ruined before we even moved in. Here they come, pulling up in their RV now...

You've got rage. Focus the rage.

Friends of the Buffaloes,

Remember this lesson - sometimes the underdog wins.

Today it was reported that Dan Hawkins will be retained to coach the Colorado Buffaloes for 2010. Against all odds and conventional logic, Dan Hawkins will be allowed to continue coaching a BCS program.

This is undoubtedly the biggest come from behind victory of Dan's career.

For much of this season, Hawk has been written off and left for dead. I mean, when you begin the season by losing to CSU and then follow that shortly by getting torched by Toledo (!) your fate is already teetering on the brink. But then you follow that up with going 2-5 in conference, become estranged from the media, have the students organize powder blue protests, have the AD start saying "no comment" every time your name comes up and have every sports columnist on the planet speculating not about if you will be retained but rather who will be your replacement... well, your time for this world is clearly not long. Shoot even cheerful, perpetually glass half full bloggers are off inventing the 51st "way to leave your lover". The spectators of your career have left the stadium with time still left on the clock. Hey, might as well beat the traffic.

But then, BAM! Victory is snatched from the jaws of defeat! Improbably, unbelievably the man keeps his job. It seemed all but impossible just moments ago. But as those final seconds were about to tick off the clock, Dan Hawkins pulls the victory out of his butt.

It's not even clear that he actually was trying to save his job. Hey, why not collect a very nice severance package and move on down the road, possibly the Latvia? This turn of events was probably just as surprising and confusing to Dan as it was to you.

But the lesson is this - sometimes the underdog wins. Even if it's the weakest, lamest, ugliest, mangiest, stinkiest, hapless dog you've ever seen - sometimes he's going to win. And hey, isn't that way makes sports great? Yes, yes it is.

Still you are going through the emotions. First denial, then bewilderment and soon in all likelyhood, anger. Anger that this chump... this chump who has lost twice as many games as he's won, been the purveyor of the two worst embarrassments in school history (Montana State and Toledo), given up more sacks and penalty yards than can be counted... will be back to torture you for yet one more year. Anger turns to rage!

Actually, I'm sanguine about the deal. I've gone to my happy place where sunflowers bloom, rainbows dominate the sky, puppies lick my feet and Chris Brown scores 6 touchdowns against the Fuskers. Maybe this is for the best. Maybe Hawk will turn it around in year 5. Maybe he'll turn into the next Bill McCartney any day now. Hey, look, a unicorn!

But I realize that many of you have not yet gone to your happy place. You are currently in a boiling cauldron of rage. This is not right, it's not fair, it's unacceptable, you deserve a winning program, a competent coach, a Big XII Championship and a Heisman trophy winner. And you deserve it now, dammit! And only the continued employment of Coach Hawk stands between you and your just deserts. Rage, rage, RAGE!!!

I can't talk you out of it. Your emotions are your emotions and we're all just going to have to live with that. But I would like to make but one suggestion.

Channel that rage. Not at Hawk for what's done is done, at least for one more year. But channel that rage at the real enemy. Remember the real enemy? No matter what happens there will ever only be one Great Satan and he goes by the name of Nebraska Cornhusker and he will appear once again this Friday upon the holy ground of Folsom Field. So bring that raw emotion that you are feeling and channel it at the guys in red on a sunny afternoon in Boulder. There will be other days to groan and growl about your football coach, but the moment to focus on the enemy is upon us. So bring that emotion and let it rain down with great justice and furious anger upon the ears and psyches of the ones for whom there can never be enough suffering - NEBRASKA!

GO BUFFS!!!!!!

Silliness in Stillwater

OMG, the buffs are 3-7 and in disarray. They've lost to CSU, Toledo and Iowa State all in the same season - the rare crap tri-fecta! They haven't won a road game in over two years. The athletic department is broke. The coach is almost certainly about to be fired. And into Stillwater go the hapless Buffs for a Thursday night matchup against the talented and cash flush #12 ranked Cowboys of Oklahoma State.

So who will win this tilt? It's obvious you say? Well not so fast, my friend. Have you ever heard of the "Theory of the Worst Haircut"? Obviously not because I just made that shit up. The Theory goes like this - the team coached by the guy with the least bad haircut wins. So let's examine our competitors, shall we?

The battle of the haircuts.

Dan Hawkins. We got to know Dan Hawkins four long years ago as the goofy, gregarious, rambling and mostly lovable tousle haired prodigy:


[Tousle haired genius]

Well, the genius thing didn't really work out. Dan searched for an answer. And the answer he found was - change your hairstyle, that should solve everything.

[The gel, the gel, Oh God, the gel!]

Surprisingly, this solution did not pan out.

But Messier Hawkins will have some serious competition for worst haircut in "Oklahoma State T. Boone Pickens Tribute to Money That I Have and You Don't Stadium" on Thursday night. My lord, will he have some fierce competition. Meet Mike Gundy:

[That's not gel. Pure rage enables this hair style.]

In addition to being a joyless prick, Coach Gundy is a lifelong Cowboy having started four years as OSU's quarterback back in the '80s. I remember it well and this makes me feel old. But if you think Mike's current haircut is frightening, you should have seen it then.

[In my mind's eye, every male In Stillwater still sports this doo.]

So the coaching hairstyle competition is too close to call. Must mean the game is a tossup!

Here are the reasons the Buffs *might* win.

1. OSU's excellent QB, Zac Robinson, got his damned head plumb knocked off last week.



2. OSU's next and final regular season game is against their much hated rival, Oklahoma. Perhaps, like Texas, they'll be distracted by the Big Distracting Thing.
   
3. Dan Hawkins is a walking deadman. His job is almost certainly over in, like, 10 days time. You do not want to fight a man who has nothing, I mean nothing, to lose. You cannot defend terminal crazy.
   
4. The Buffs always inexplicably beat one good team per year. We thought that had already happened this year when we beat then #17 KU. But subsequent evidence reveals that Kansas is a bad, holy moly, super bad team. Neither do A&M nor Wyoming qualify as good teams. So, who knows, maybe OSU is this year's victim?
   

Profiles in Bad-assery: Scotty McKnight, that's right, Scotty McKnight

Stop laughing.

Scotty McKnight is a badass. He is short, he is slow, he is white, he has a haircut that looks like this, his name is Scotty. And he is a BAD ASS.

Behold.

* Since red-shirting in 2006, Scotty (originally a walk-on), has never missed a game. This despite suffering several injuries including a wicked concussion earlier this year.

* Scotty has caught at least one pass in every game that he has played.

* Scotty has led the team in receiving in each of the last 3 seasons.

* Three quarters of the way through is junior year, Scotty is closing in on nearly every significant CU receiving record. Including those possessed by the likes of noted badasses Charles E. Johnson and Michael Fucking Westbrook.

* Scotty rushes to the assistance of fellow students who have had serious cycling accidents.

* Scotty's dad is an undercover narcotics cop in Los Angeles.

* Scotty even recovers teammates fumbles and scores touchdowns as he did when Sumler fumbled inside the 10 against Wyoming this year.

* Scotty's best friend is Mark Sanchez who takes time out of his busy schedule as an NFL quarterback to fly to Boulder to watch Scotty play.

* Your wife is having a pretend affair with Scotty right now. With your blessing.

Simply put, Scotty is a selfless, over-achieving kid who works his ass off and performs every week. On a team where many of his team-mates and coaches make bone-headed errors every week, Scotty is a beacon of consistent excellent performance.

I think that the world would be a better place if everyone would pause each time they encounter a challenge in life and ask themselves, "What would Scotty McKnight do?" Except perhaps when they are getting a haircut.

It's not you, it's me... But mostly you.

Honey, we have to talk.

Come here, sit down. Let me pour you a glass of wine. There right to the top.

So, there's no easy way to say this but... It's not you... it's me. I'm just not satisfied with... you.

Look, this whole relationship was sort of crazy from the start. Hard to believe that it was four years ago... seems so much longer. You were a handsome, wholesome country boy who seemed to have all the right answers. I was a naive schoolgirl coming off a bad relationship. We had one crazy weekend together, everything seemed to click and BOOM! we were married.

But you know, it just was never right. I've known it ever since the Montana State incident. I think you knew it too. But we put on the act for the kids and our friends. We both wanted them to be happy. But between the two of us - there was never true love...

Oh, I know. It hurts to hear it said so bluntly out loud. But you know it too, you have to.

The passion has long since passed. And the sex - there's just no spark there any more. It's like we're on different pages. I want to go straight down the middle with the occasional double reverse to keep things interesting. And you... well frankly I can't even tell what it is you're trying to do...

So, what I'm saying is this. I think it's time for both of us to move on with our lives. Separately. I'm sure you'll find someone who can give you the love and support that you need. Perhaps at a rural, division II school. Or an experimental league in, say, Latvia. That would be nice for you. Me? I'll be fine. I suppose this old gal can still find a gent who shares her interests and values. Someone worldly, dashing, handsome, competent, someone who doesn't run wide sweeps on 4th and inches... Oh, sorry... I forgot you were still sitting there for a sec.

Anyhoo... The kids. They're going to be so upset. I mean Cody is *already* upset - I'm afraid that he'll never speak to either one of us again. And the others... Sure, the older ones know what's going on. But the youngsters, the freshmen and sophomores, they'll just be crushed. It'll be like Toledo all over again for them. I think we should wait until after the holidays to break the news to them. At least until after Thanksgiving.

So there it is. Don't look so glum. Let's just remember the good times. Oklahoma, West Virginia, Kansas. Those were good. Just don't dwell on the negatives, just put those behind you. No need to even mention them, really... Like Montana State, Toledo, CSU, ISU, Baylor, Kai Maiava, Josh Smith, Darrell Scott, the horrible beatings by Missouri, the Baylor triple overtime. Those embarrassing failures, well, you just shouldn't dwell on them. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life, ya know? Who knows, maybe we'll beat Texas A&M and have a few more laughs together before we go our separate ways.

And you know, we'll always be friends. I'll always be there if you need someone to, uh, call or something. Long distance.

OK then, good talk. So you'll be moved out but 1st of December and, um, I think you should sleep in the spare bedroom in the mean time. I already moved your stuff in there. K, great.

Quoth the Defense, "Nevermore"

Apropos it is to be playing the Missouri Tigers on Halloween. The recent Buff-Mizzou matchups have been ghastly and ghoulish. Fact: in the past 8 quarters of play against CU, Missouri has scored 113 points. One hundred and thirteen.

It's been a shit show, our defense has been helpless against the mighty Tiger offensive juggernaut. We were the French, they were the Germans. We were Grenada, they were the Marines. We were the Generals, they were the Globe Trotters. We were Charlie Brown, they were Lucy. Hopeless...

But this year is different. Gary Pinkel's Mizzou no longer has the magical Chase Daniel and the uncoverable Jeremy Macklin. In their place are the gimpy Blaine Gabbert and the fragile Denario Alexander. Furthermore, the 2009 CU defense has evolved into a snarling, nasty, mean, stubborn, swashbuckling bunch. They have been the buzz saw into which great offenses such as Texas and Kansas have unwittingly run. Buff fans in the know realize that, even through our recent losses, the D has been simply superb.

And this Saturday, that nasty Buff Defense will come to avenge the atrocities of the past two years. They will wage war upon the Tiger offense in a chilling and horrific manner. And Halloween 2009 will be a nightmare for Mizzou.

In the spirit of Halloween, I've borrowed and adapted the single greatest piece of terrifying literature of all time, "The Raven" from the brilliant Edgar Allan Poe. Enjoy.

The Defense (by Edgar Buffalover Poe)

Once upon a midday dreary, Pinkel pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of offensive lore--
While he nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As he came a gently rapping, rapping at the red-zone door.
"'T'will be a touchdown," he muttered, "tapping at the red-zone door--
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly he remembered last year in the bleak November,
And each drive he did engender wrought its way to endzone flannel.
Eagerly he wished the morrow;--vainly he had sought to borrow
From his heart surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Daniel--
For the rare and radiant prince whom the angels name Daniel--
Gone forever just like my spaniel.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of his memory's curtain
Thrilled him--filled him with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of his heart, he stood repeating
"'Tis the time to be entreating entrance at the redzone door--
Naturally I'll be entreating entrance at the redzone door;
This it is and nothing more."

Presently his soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said he, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so now I'll come a tapping, tapping at the redzone door,
And now a pass to score against you"--here he opened wide the door--
Black shirts there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long he stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to chance embrace;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered words, "Prince Chase?"
This he whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Replace!"--
Merely this and nothing more.

Downward then he flung the playbook, when, with many a scowl and gray look,
In there rushed a stately 'Backer of like saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, struck upon Blaine Gabbert's shore--
Lept upon the fleeing QB, just there on Blaine Gabbert's shore--
Sacked then flattened, and nothing more.

Then the 'backer quite beguiling stood above him snarling, smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance he wore,
"Though my crest be red and woolly, I," he said, "art your feared sacker,
Ghastly grim and redhead 'backer blitzing from the blind side shore--
Creamed us in the years past, truly, upon this team you'd score and score!"
Then quoth the 'backer, "Nevermore."

Then the Pinkel, standing lonely on the sideline, spat and moaned he
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
Nothing farther need be uttered; the 'backer had his QB buttered--
Till he scarcely more than muttered: "Other friends have flown before--
On the next play we shall score, as my Hopes have flown before."
Said the Defense "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said he, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never--nevermore.'"

But the Defense still beguiling knocked his sad soul into smiling,
Straight he runs a QB draw now, pass fake then Blaine steps toward the fore;
One step forward and then quick sinking, bruised and dazed he lays there blinking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous D of yore--
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, mean, and ominous D of yore
Meant in shouting "Nevermore."

There Blaine sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the Safety whose fiery eyes now burned into his bosom's core;
This and more he sat divining, with his head in pain reclining
On green turf with chalky lining above him DBs gloated o'er,
But the endzones distant lining with the ball he'd not get o'er
There he'll go, ah, nevermore!

Well, look what the Cat dragged in

Recap:

The Buffs rose up in spectacular fashion Saturday to knock off undefeated, 17th ranked Kansas Jayhawks and their spectacular quarterback, Todd Reesing. The defense was fantastic - shutting down the running game, getting 6 sacks and withstanding not one but two furious red-zone rallies by the 'Hawks. On offense, new QB Tyler Hansen was fantastic in his first start of the season keeping plays alive with his feet and making great throws under pressure. Meanwhile Speedy Stewart spun and juked his way to another 100+ yard day. And let it be noted that Aric Goodman made two crucial field goals (please let the field goal dragon be slayed once and for all).

It was really a thrilling victory which instantly changed the tone of a season which began on such a sour note. Much work still to be done, but I couldn't be happier with the way the team has responded to adversity.

Onward:

Meanwhile at Kansas State, 500 year old Bill Snyder has been removed from cold storage and reanimated in an attempt to bring the K-State team back to life. It may be working. The Mildcats lit up Texas A&M last week to the tune of 62 points.

(This is where members of the McCabe family may want to stop reading)

So how does Bill Snyder do it? How did he take the losing-est program in history, located in a backwater outpost and make it into a consistent winning and indeed feared program for most of the 1990s and early 2000s? Well it has to do with a little thing called "pure evil".

The Bill Snyder success cookbook:
1) Call Satan. Sell soul. Have no soul? Sell children's souls.
2) Scour every Junior College and Correctional Institution in the country for illiterate felons with great speed and enormous size. Welcome them to your "school".
3) Schedule a non-conference line-up consisting primarily of schools with the words "north central", "community", hyphen or "orphanage" in their names.
4) Torture opponents with "Willie the Wildcat" guitar solos.
5) Somehow be the catalyst for the firing of the current coach of Texas A&M.
6) Creep people out with that expressionless face and grayish translucent skin.
7) Win 10 games a season.

Ode to a small, white quarterback

Wither the boy
Who tried the odds
And laid out valiantly

On fields of grid
Did he not trod
But rare triumphantly

And though he stood
Of stature short
And rarely reached the pylon

Fierce he did play
A brutal sport
Had he the heart of lion

Impugn him not
For most would blaze
Than muster self to bother

And appear before
the nation's gaze
And accept the blame for father

Amidst the losses
His team far down
Quitting was not discussed

Fight to the end
For a touchdown
Despite him being concussed

Gritty was he
But without strength
Sufficient over time

He could not go
The whole field length
When all was on the line


Alas the time
To bench him came
The day he had deplored

Dad should now say
We'll share the blame
Now carry a clip board

And now his fate
To wear headset
And signal the play call

To teammate who
God did beset
Fleet legs and stature tall

The lesson here
You must stand tall
Or QB life you're leasing

Unless of course
You play football
Just like you are Todd Reesing