Watching – and listening on radio because too few teevee talkers do anything but spout nonsense – the weekend’s collegiate football, some quick and probably soon-to-change observations:
Neither Texas nor Notre Dame are worthy of lofty ratings. Their defenses leaked, especially ‘the back four and some linebackers as well.. But at least they were not Oklahoma. While the ‘horns and Irish defensive backfields made tackling grass the “takeaway” of their set, while Sooner Nation’s darlings vied mightily to emulate what the late Justin Wilson would cajunize into LUS of Cholly Mac days as purely pathetic in the Land of Cheese. The ineptitude all around was crushing. UHouston still has some lifting to do because The Sooners did not make things more than mildly entertaining. Louisville and – dare I say it? – some Florida teams now see a train in the tunnel running without real lights despite all that talent.
Even FUS, to continue the former safety engineer-turned TV cook without peer’s patois – tried to stem the excellence for about twenty-two minutes. But that was all stagecraft, one suspects. After witnessing anemic and seemingly uninterested Florida flail awfully against not-even-Boston College-or-even-Holy Cross-but for-goshsakesUMass, maybe the ‘Noles decided to wake up Orlando later than not.
Until the aforenamed crew gets August out of their anus, some people will discover other things to do Saturdays.
But that is all bug-splatter for now. Injuries, class attendance, crimes – the usual suspects before (and after) Halloween – hold forth the opening week or so of College Football (always capitalize Religious Institutions in The South) well may make the former miscreants measure up. One suspects endless repetitions and punishment drills and embarrassed family and friends asking after the last care packages from home well may have something to do with leaky defensive rehabilitation and who knows, maybe even the sidelines signal-senders may grow a couple of useful braincells. A fundamental tackle and a sensible approach to picking a decent hole and the lowering of landing patterns on passes and defenses that eschew face-guarding in favor of turning around upon comment from a teammate that “the dang ball’s coming, turn around and jump! (or some shorter variation)” may intrude.
One thing I picked up on early and heartily enjoyed: Florida State’s latest incarnation of Roberto Aguayo – younger brother Ricky may not threaten the 60-yard score but he will have defensive coaches across the land puking at the prospect of six or more field goals anytime Jimbo says.
Another thing: Alabama lady who wore a Paul Bryant hound’s tooth hat inside Jerry Jones’ domed palace seemed so out-of-place. Her hair-topper supposedly is fine for the distaff side, but I still recall Bear’s words to a curious sprots (spelling intentional) writer why he eschewed his chapeau the day the Crimson Tide played inside the Super Bowl. To paraphrase, he replied: “My mama told me no gentleman wears a hat indoors.”
And I still hold out hope Monty Kiffin’s kid has learned his lesson in his new role.