…hey guys, if there’s anything I love in this world….it’s college football!!! I mean, look around…. How many folks visitin’ tha CFB forum in late Jan??? Let me tell ya somethin’…. If you’re here in late Jan, (…and baby, I’m here!!!) then you are a college football addict!!!
I absolutely love the insite I get on this forum!!! You guys are the best!!!! I wish there were more of us....
I thought I’d post this for you big 12 fans…. I’m sure that you’ve already seen it passed around on your e-mail, but I thought I’d post it for the few that haven’t seen it…. It’s long…real long, but absolutely hilarious!!!
Keep in mind that…I mean no disrespect in this post…. It’s all in good humor, baby…and, if you’d ever met me…you’d know that this has been me on game day in K-town.
p.s. I’ll work up somethin’ on tha “real” UT and post it after exams in February…. Keep up the great work guys….
This is an e-mail from some guy named (can't say), who, according to the
> messages that were attached to this, is not a 21 year-old frat boy, but
> an attorney of indeterminate age. He sent it to his friend (won't tell)
> and it got forwarded around the country. You have to give the guy some
> props for being self-deprecating...but I hope I never meet him on game
> day…. Especially in Knoxville…
> A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and the early
> morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999:
> 6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at full-freaking blast
> 6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels
> 7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time of the morning)
> 8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)
> 8:53 Crack open second beer
> 8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)
> 10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for a
> smoooooth 95
> 10:35 Headed for San Antonio
> 10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game festivities
> 11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we double-back to a liquor
> store and buy the good ol' 750 ml plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam
> 11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single cloud in the
> sky. About 70 degrees.
> 11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the shit out of Nebraska.
> 11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go fuck himself.
> 12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. We're on the
> second floor of a two-story parking garage on the corner (a couple
> hundred of us). We're hooting and hollering like wildmen. The band
> doubles back to the street right below us and serenades us with Texas
> Fight and The Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT.
> 12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown men are bumping
> chests with one another, each and every one of them now secure and
> certain of the fact that we are going to kick the shit out of Nebraska.
> 1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. Again,we
> hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the band doubles back and stops
> right below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska
> fight songs. *Although somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we
> remain convinced that we are going to kick the shit out of Nebraska.
> 1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to stuff the
> "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer into my pants.
> 1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They are taunting me. I am
> taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the shit out of
> Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play
> what I now call and will forever be remembered as "Cell-Phone Flop Out."
> Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this
> Nebraska jackass that if he's so confident in his team, he should "flop
> out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to Phoenix for
> the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: "And not those
> damn refundable tickets, either! You request those non-refundable,
> non-transferrable sons-of-bitches!" He backs down. He is unworthy. I call
> Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix, non-refundable and
> non-transferrable. Price: $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in
> shame. I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of
> Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11
> beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the pre-game kingdom.
> 2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and pour my
> first stiffy.
> 2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is fast.
> Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas.
> 3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for Texas.
> Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still talking shit. I pour another stiffy
> from the Traveler.
> 3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is a dead
> soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am
> standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and
> rolls out of the end zone. Safety.
> 3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another Traveler.
> 4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at halftime I
> attempt to revive the classic Brice-ism from the South Bend bathroom:
> "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice cock." He is unamused.
> 4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. I share
> my beer with two high school girls sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they
> are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to purchase
> Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith.
> Nebraska is a bunch of pussies.
> 4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their
> lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants.
> 5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith. This
> normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field.
> 5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have been
> confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferrable."
> 5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession
> counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be
> sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged
> by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the fuck didn't you announce last call
> over the fucking PA system??!!"
> 5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a
> sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter,
> awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the answer is
> no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far) cheer
> of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were
> walking back to the tunnel and Bevo stopped to take a gargantuan shit all
> over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the "Nebraska" spelled out in their
> end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick
> my tongue in it. I am thirsty.
> 6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would
> taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage, but I am
> too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of
> the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in
> October, they would be playing Florida State for the national
> 6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the 8:00
> Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer.
> *It is warm. I don't care.
> 7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store. I walk
> past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if
> it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist the top off and drink
> the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the
> 7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the
> ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one
> there.I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black
> olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter
> and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store
> grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't
> 8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and singing
> Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my
> singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good
> songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and
> that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a bit
> excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play on its own.
> I tell him to fuck off and restart "Neon Moon."
> 8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud and
> profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage.
> I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we
> may as well pitch a fucking tent here. He ignores me. I think he's still
> pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly.
> 8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're going
> to kick the shit out of Arizona.