Oct 9, 2009

“Even Erin thought it was ridiculous.”

That was me, Your Editor, speaking last weekend to Unsouthern Southern Guy Brian M. Schleter, who had just seen his Georgia Bulldogs get absolutely screwed by a less-than-perceptive official in that tough/bogus loss to LSU. If you haven’t heard, folks, the Bulldogs were called for a late “excessive celebration” penalty that ultimately cost them the game.

Problem is, their celebration wasn’t excessive. And, yes, even Erin thought it was a B.S call, I told Brian. Well, Mrs. Your Editor heard me tell him this.

“I just love how I’m the barometer here,” she said.

Which is true, of course.

Mrs. Your Editor is somewhat of Your Editor’s college football barometer—the ultimate arbiter of awesomeness, of ridiculousness, of incredibleness at TCFA Headquarters. See, folks, believe it or not, Your Editor thinks every moment is awesome. That every call is ridiculous. That every play is incredible. Mrs. Your Editor, though, well, she has perspective. She keeps me in check, is what she does.

It’s just one of the many traits that make her The Greatest College Football Wife Ever.

This week’s column? Well, it’s my homage to her greatness.

Today, the day I am writing this (not the day you’re reading it), is Mrs. Your Editor’s Birthday. She is now 33. When she met Your Editor, she was 20. And because she has spent the better part of the last 13 years with Your Editor, she’s also spent 13 years’ worth of autumn Saturdays watching college football with Your Editor—or, at the very least, tending to the demands of the day (work, children, preventing the house from falling down) while Your Editor watches college football.

God bless her, folks, she is a prize.

Much is made in the football world of the sainted “coach’s wife”—the women who, with their vast well of patience and behind-the-scenes orchestrations—pretty much make their husbands’ Saturday achievements possible. And certainly, Sue Paterno, Ann Bowden and all those other coaches wives deserve all the praise they get.

But here’s the thing, folks: Those wives put up with all that crap because they know by helping their husbands get by, they are also helping those husbands make money.

Mrs. Your Editor? Well, she has no such luck.

Add up all the money Your Editor has ever made in the realm of college football, then subtract all the money I’ve spent on hotels, tickets, television subscriptions, bar tabs, TCFA-related Internet hosting, tailgating food, Victory Hop Devil and vodka martinis with blue-cheese stuffed olives and, well, I think I would maybe break even. Maybe.

So, no, Mrs. Your Editor gets nothing out of this deal. Except more work, of course: She's the one who built this site, after all (and, hey, if you need any design work, contact her here). She's my only copy editor, too. To be honest, my zeal for college football might most aptly be described as a real pain in her ass. Not that she’d ever tell me to quit it. She’s too damn understanding to do ever that. I think.

In short, she puts up with a lot.

Which is why, today, I thought I would pay her back in some very (very) small way: With a column, dedicated solely to her, highlighting my Top 5 All-Time Watching-College-Football-With-Mrs. Your Editor Moments.

And, yes, I can see her cringing as she reads this. Hang in there, hon. It won't be all that bad.

We start with No. 5 and count down from there.

Five: This one you’ve heard already, folks. But I just had to share again. Two weeks back, as the Illinois Fighting Illini took the field against The Hated Ohio State Buckeyes, the ABC cameras cut to a shot of Illini quarterback Juice Williams. Your Editor was in the kitchen at the time, cooking and/or grabbing another Hop Devil. Then I heard Mrs. Your Editor’s voice, asking sweetly and sincerely, “What’s his name again?” Pause. “Sugar?” I love that she knew the guy is named after a food product, folks. And, no, I don’t care the she picked the wrong food. Oh, she also had a pretty funny follow-up: “He’s the one with two kids, right?”

Four: Last season’s Oklahoma-Texas game was possibly the greatest in the history of the Red River Shootout. Now, how did I know it was great? Here’s how: Mrs. Your Editor, pregnant and probably a little nauseaous, sat there with me and watched the whole damn thing. I dare say she was captivated, folks. The drama. The pageantry. The rivalry. Colt McCoy. She loved all of it. Twelve years into our relationship, I believe that was the first time she ever watched a game from start to finish. She asked questions. She even yelled at the television a couple of times. I was so happy. So proud. Even if her interest was partially derived from her attraction to Colt McCoy.

Three: Mrs. Your Editor and I don’t get out much these days, folks. And we certainly don’t get away much. You know, three kids, a bunch of jobs—it all adds up to a whole lot of time at home. But last September, before the arrival of the Princess Leah, Mrs. Your Editor and I secured a weekend pass of sorts and headed up to Happy Valley to see the Penn State-Oregon State game. Looking back on that game now, it can be easy to forget that, at the time, nobody knew how good Penn State was. Or Oregon State, for that matter. So to be honest, I was pretty nervous beforehand. I was bracing for defeat. Walking into Beaver Stadium, I remember turning to Mrs. Your Editor and saying, “You know, I have no idea what to expect here.” Her wise reply? “But isn’t that what makes it fun?” Perspective, folks.

Two: Same day, different place. With a steady morning rain falling and various people to meet, Mrs. Your Editor and I skipped pre-Penn State-Oregon State tailgating and instead, well, tailgated at the bars. At our second stop, a legendary watering hole called The Phyrst, we met up with Nick Cerimele, Esq., noted Penn State fanatic and accomplished drinker. He was doing shots. Your Editor isn’t big on shots, so I passed on Nick’s offer for an “Irish Car Bomb.” Mrs. Your Editor didn’t pass. Two car bombs and a Guinness later (she is Irish, and proud of it), we were off to the game. She was completely unaffected. Oh, and after the game? We got Original Sins at The Adam’s Apple. That's my lady, folks. When need be, well, she can be one of the guys. And drink you under the table.

One: They called it Judgment Day. Nov. 8, 1997. No. 2 Penn State vs. No. 4 Michigan. For the de facto Big Ten title. For a ticket to the national title game. A sold-out Beaver Stadium. College GameDay on the premises. I mean, this was big, folks. As a Penn State football reporter for the Daily Collegian at the time, Your Editor was covering the game. And while my colleagues and I in the Penn State press corps may not have been outwardly cheering for Penn State (no cheering in the press box, right?) the reality is, we all wanted the Nits to win. We knew and liked those players, liked the team and, most importantly, we all wanted to spend New Year’s Eve on in Pasadena. Unfortunately, the Nits didn’t win. In fact, they got crushed, 34-8. I still remember the dreary atmosphere around town afterward—the universal glumness. But you know what else I remember? I remember not really caring that we lost. Because after the game, I didn’t go hang out with my roommates and grumble about What Could Have Been. No, I headed off (happily) to see Erin, my new girlfriend at the time. And it was wonderful.

We had a few drinks. Hit a few taverns. Laughed a lot. I don’t think we talked about the game one bit.

See, folks, I was so head-over-heels with the then-Not Yet Mrs. Your Editor that I didn’t even care that Penn State had been embarrassed on national television.

And this is the God's honest truth: Though we had only been dating for about a month or so, I knew I was going to marry her.

I knew I had found The One.

Now, I’m not sure she knew she was going to marry me. I'm not sure she knew I was The One. And I’m really not sure, if she had known what the next 13 years of autumn Saturdays would bring, that she would have stuck with me.

But I’ll tell you this much: I’m so happy that she did.

Because my autumn Saturdays—and my life—have been all the better for it.

I found The Greatest College Football Wife there is, folks. Tough luck for you.

Out And About: News And Notes You May Have Missed

• Every once in a while the NCAA does something that makes me angry. Actually, more than once a while. Because it’s simply not a very intelligently run organization. Just ask poor Dez Bryant. As you’ve probably heard by now, the superstar Oklahoma State wideout has seen his season come to an end. Not because of an injury. Not because of academic troubles. Not even because of any kind of criminal offense. Nope, poor Dez’s season (career?) is over because … he had dinner with Deion Sanders. That’s it. Here’s the deal: Bryant, who had a troubled childhood, sought out Sanders on as something of a mentor (there are probably better choices, but I digress), and earlier this summer, the wideout spent some time with the former Atlanta Falcons (snore) / San Francisco 49ers (snore) Dallas Cowboys (snore) / Baltimore Ravens (snore) star. Bryant worked out with Sanders and then the two had dinner. End of story. But not according to the ever-petty NCAA, which quickly dispatched investigators to Stillwater to look into the incident. They asked Bryant if he had committed these unspeakable acts (working out, having dinner) and he … denied it. Of course, the NCAA then put all of its vast resources (you know, the ones they aren’t using to investigate USC) to work and found out that Bryant was lying. Boom. Done. Yesterday, The World’s Most Vindictive Organization ruled Bryant ineligible for the remainder of the season. And here’s the thing, folks: The workout and dinner weren’t against the rules in the first place. Poor Bryant just figured that, because those NCAA thugs were asking him about it, he must have done something wrong. So he panicked, and he lied. And now, the poor kid can’t play for the rest of the season. His team’s title hopes are shot. An entire program is down in the dumps. Nice job, NCAA. You idiots.

• Florida State University President T.K. Wetherall has a choice to make. A choice about his legacy. A choice about how he wants to be remembered. And he has to weigh all of that against ... money. With the Seminoles sitting at 2-3 after a loss last week to Boston College, it seems Florida State fans, the media and, most imortantly, boosters have finally given up on Coach Bobby Bowden, a truly great coach who, it must be said, has now presided over a half-decade of mediocrity in Tallahassee. The program isn’t half of what it was in the 1990s, and, frankly, I don’t think anyone believes Bowden has the energy to turn things around. Which is why Wetherall is under such enormous pressure to fire Bowden, like, immediately. Or at the very least, force the coach out at the end of the season. Which he may very well do, according to various Florida State insiders. But here’s the problem for Wetherall: Bubbuh doesn’t to want leave. No he's has dug in his heels. He's essentially daring Wetherall to fire him; it’s a good strategy, too. Besides, folks, how do you fire a legend? I mean, let's think about this. The field the ‘Noles play on? Yeah, it’s called Bobby Bowden Field. There’s a also freaking statue of the man outside the stadium. Oh, and then there's this: Wetherall played for Bowden. So here's what I'm saying here, folks: I don’t care how many boosters come out of the woodwork and say that Bowden’s got to go. I don’t care if fans protest the state of the program and demand Bowden’s removal. I don’t care if every columnist (even Paul Finebaum) in the South comes out and says Bowden is a crazy and/or senile old man incapable putting a sentence together, much less winning football games. None of that matters. Because at the end of the day, Bowden’s fate rests with Wetherall, the one lonely man who must decide if wants his entire career—heck, his entire life—defined by just one single act: Firing one of greatest coaches in the history of sport. Good luck with that, T.K.

Quick Hits: Straight And To The Point

• I haven’t yet decided if this is a good idea or a bad idea. Maybe you can help me decide: Officials at Georgia and Georgia Tech are currently in discussions about moving their annual last-game-of-the-season rivalry game (they call it, "Clean, Old-Fashioned Hate") to the start of the season. For one year, at least. Seems that the schools are engaged in “informal discussions" about playing in the season-opening Chick-fil-A Kickoff Game (a cool new tradition, by the way) at the Georgia Dome (snore) in 2011. The next year, the rivalry would return to its usual format. The reason for the potential switch? Money, of course. Tech athletic director Dan Radakovich explained that the Yellow Jackets are currently slated to play Georgia, Virginia Tech and Clemson at home in 2011. By moving the Georgia home game to 2012 and collecting the big Chick-fil-A paycheck, Tech could spread out its money games and enjoy Something Of A Financial Windfall. Explained Radakovich: "If we can go to a 2012 Georgia Tech home game [against Georgia], 2013 Georgia home game [against Tech], then that becomes a good circumstance. It creates a more even flow of revenue." OK, wait, I’ve decided: This is a bad idea.

• Quote of the Week: Florida State President T.K. Wetherall, explaining on Wednesday why he would not fire coach Bobby Bowden immediately, despite the demands of fans and boosters. "FSU does not make coaching changes in the middle of the season. What message would it send to anyone—friend or foe—to do that at this time?” That's good stuff. I'm serious. Nicely said, T.K. Or T.K.'s speechwriter.

• Quote of the Week, Part II: Ohio State Quarterback and Noted Dog Lover Terrelle Pryor, on that whole controversy with him wearing pro-Michael Vick messaging on his eye black: “I'd do it again. ... I was just happy he was out and he had been a big role model to me as I was growing up and I had always looked up to Mike Vick. Maybe it was stupid, just to get involved in that, I shouldn't have put myself in that position. Nothing against the dogs, I love dogs and all of that." I love dogs and all that, too, Terrelle.

• So as to not make it seem as though I am picking on Terrelle, I would like to take this opportunity to point out that Pryor is having a better year than The Chosen One down at Florida, not that anyone will actually mention this. Here’s The Chosen One’s stats: 643 passing yards, six touchdown passes, 271 rushing yards, five rushing touchdowns. And here’s Pryor’s: 854 passing yards, eight touchdown passes, 298 rushing yards, three rushing touchdowns. If you showed these stats to somebody at The Worldwide Leader of All Things SEC And Especially Tim Tebow, they would deny their accuracy.

• Cal has not scored a touchdown since September 19. Clemson of the West, folks.

• Juice aka Sugar Williams has started 38 straight games for Illinois. That streak ends this week, though, because Williams has been benched in favor of his teammate and best friend, Eddie McGee. Explained He of the Warm Hindquarters Ron Zook: “I want to give Eddie a shot. It's something we need. This thing's not broke. We have to tweak it here and there."

• My Beloved Penn State Nittany Lions play Eastern Illinois this week. Yep, it’s a Division I-AA (I still refuse to use the term “FCS,” folks) team. Right in the middle of Big Ten season. Asked this week by the Altoona Mirror’s Cory Giger why he would play such a foe (ever), Penn State Coach and Great Man Joe Paterno explained (with agitation): “You got Michigan, Florida, Miami of Florida, Oklahoma, Alabama, Florida State, Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan State, Illinois, Indiana, Minnesota, and on and on [all playing Division I-AA teams]. We had an open date. We had a chance to play 12 games. All right? Which means money so we can support the other 28 sports on this campus. All right?” Right.

• Why was Paterno agitated? Because Giger would let it go. Would. Not. Let It. Go. And so things got heated. So heated, in fact, that Giger actually offered an apology (soft of?) in his column the next day. Wrote Giger: “I feel bad that Joe and I both raised our voices. He cut me off during my final question—about whether fans should have to pay the same ticket price for this game as they would Ohio State—and I made sure I finished the question because I thought it needed to be asked. Maybe you think it was a stupid question. I feel it was a pertinent question and have heard numerous fans say the same thing. I am disappointed the exchange escalated the way it did because that's all anyone seems to be focusing on.” I’ll say this much: I hate these games against Division I-AA schools as much as anyone. I think they’re bad for the game. But Giger’s “question” was, in fact, stupid. He didn’t want (or expect) an answer. He wanted a confrontation. He wanted a story. And that’s what he got. So quit it with innocent act, already.

• TCFA Song of the Week: "Wagon Wheel," by Old Crow Medicine Show. If there's a better tailgating song than this one, folks, well, I'd like to hear it.