Back with a hybrid of the Binge and the Grind (think shampoo and conditioner or Alien vs. Predator dumbed down) for your reading and listening pain pleasure. Flip and Bill meet at the studios, shake hands, turn on the mic and go. It's raw, it's unrehearsed and it's awful…
Awful good! Sorry, I was choking on my own spit. I meant awful good.
Let's peruse the menu for today's specials. Think of us as your sports power lunch. Quick, cheap and by the time you get back to work you're gassy and ready for a nap.
The 2010 college football season is over (pause for tearful hanky blow) and your Auburn Tigers are the new National Champions over the Oregon Ducks in one of the most exciting sphincter-puckered-to-the-very-end games in BCS history. Bitch, moan or smugly offer up your own unsolicited playoff formula if you want. But you must admit the two best teams somehow seem to wind up playing each other in the end, no matter how many bizarre if's and but's you hypothesize on the way there. When all is said and done, one inescapable conclusion remains. The Oregon uniforms looked absolutely f***ing ridiculous. Seriously, those fluorescent leg-warmers looked like a Flashdance and Tron car crash.
It's an SEC thing. People still cock their head like a dog hearing a high-pitched fart when they hear me rooting for Auburn, the boil on Gator Nation's ass since Pat Dye left. Two words: Conference pride. The better they look, the better we all look. The worse they look, the more red meat is exposed for the starving SEC-bashing bigots to chew on all of us. We're a family. Families fight. And while it's fun to inflict wedgies, noogies and swirlies on our siblings all year long, once the punks down the street shove our brother, we band together and unite. Five titles in a row, bitches. That's a tough case to argue. But you can try. You're adorable when you're angry.
Cam guilty after the fact. Auburn QB Cam Newton was cleared by the NCAA to play, claiming that there was no evidence directly linking the shenanigans of the father (Cecil) to the son. As cynical as it sounds, it is not impossible to believe that a parent can keep a secret from a child, particularly in this case where plausible deniability is a huge plus (think Jack Bauer keeping the president out of the loop while he badasses his way through the city. Man, I miss that show). But something happened after the game that compromised that theory. During the post-game hoopla, Cam was seen on the field hugging his Pop. Far be it from me to begrudge a family celebration. But for the story to hold water, this kid should be furious at his father for embarrassment and betrayal or at the very least both of them should be aware of the fact that it may be in poor taste at best to let him on the 50 yard-line for a public embrace. Cam may not be an accessory, but he appeared in that moment, complicit. Bottom line is this: If your spouse clears you of hooking up with an ex, it may not be the smartest move to be seen drinking champagne out of her shoe on New Year's Eve.
Falcons fans listen up. We were the only ones who weren't completely dumbstruck by the Seahawks' upset of the Saints. Why? Same criticism of the Bucs. Wussy schedule. New Orleans enjoyed a similar stroll-in-the-park spanking of Cleveland, Cincinnati, Carolina (twice) and the JV NFC West on their way to the playoffs against a team and a home stadium that had had just about enough abuse all week long. An upset? Of course. But Seattle wasn't just going to sit back with their decaf cappuccinos and suck on it. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
PLUS! We make our weekend NFL playoff picks (Will Atlanta suffer the same schedule cupcake curse as New Orleans? They beat the Bucs. Whoopee, so did Detroit with that quarterback you will never guess the name of. Hey, no googling!); Think TCU got stiffed out of the title shot? We point out mathematically the final rank numbers of the dreaded strength of schedule comparisons (Then we point and laugh. Shortest. Debate. Ever); Last year's Super Bowl contenders are out, our Super Bowl picks are still in (Bonus prediction: Fergie suffers a wardrobe "lady-lumps" malfunction and as a result, next year's halftime show will revert back to octogenarian bands); And in a blatant but unintentional narcissistic tangent, Flip and I share our New Year's resolutions (Warning: May cause drowsiness)
So sit back, minimize the porn and solitaire, put aside the TPS reports and enjoy. What else are you gonna do, go out and play? It's freezing out there.
the podcast here.
This article appears in Jan 13-19, 2011.