Five one-possession games provide enough finger-pointing for all hands here, but losing to teams like Minnesota and Rutgers truly takes a village. A whole city.
Everyone and everything needs to be given the finger.
Start with the administrators who didn’t even want to play games, turning their backs on millions in TV revenue, then, after seeing everyone else at work, instituting procedures more severe than anywhere. A pudgy 74-year-old can kick it in a weekend, but 20-year-old athletes must sit a month? 21 damned days? Asinine.
Raise your hand if you absolutely knew in advance that rule would screw Purdue. We lost only our most vital defender. Want to bitch? Start with Mitch. And that damned quack factory down south.
What about Bobo the Domer? He sits center stage in The House That Morgan Built, surrounded by new exec posts he suddenly deemed necessary, paid with our money. Then Bobo offers zero public support for the coach he hired who gets so screwed by officials every week that we get national television coverage for it.
We founded this league, but our current administrators just let it crap all over us, from the network to the scheduling to the zebras. Say “I surrender” in loosier?
Our players fall on their own swords more than they do opponents. Our lines get blurred and buried. The QB locks in and throws game-ending picks while open receivers wave at Mom. Defenders show why they couldn’t play offense or even serve as homecoming escorts. Social distancing? Let our DBs show you. Then we snatch flags from the jaws of good plays. Special teams all have special needs.
And the best defender on the entire field gets the boot for a tackle that draws applause on sandlots. Crown of the helmet? Kiss our asses. That was a face-plant. Meanwhile our tight end gets kicked in the groin on the ground on purpose, and that offender helps make the game-clinching play. Get out the clothesline, Pop.
We don’t need to change a damned thing. Just let the team look at that tape 5 ticks before kickoff. Then we’ll all go throw some major monkey crap at the zebras while our boys clean some clocks.
Everyone and everything needs to be given the finger.
Start with the administrators who didn’t even want to play games, turning their backs on millions in TV revenue, then, after seeing everyone else at work, instituting procedures more severe than anywhere. A pudgy 74-year-old can kick it in a weekend, but 20-year-old athletes must sit a month? 21 damned days? Asinine.
Raise your hand if you absolutely knew in advance that rule would screw Purdue. We lost only our most vital defender. Want to bitch? Start with Mitch. And that damned quack factory down south.
What about Bobo the Domer? He sits center stage in The House That Morgan Built, surrounded by new exec posts he suddenly deemed necessary, paid with our money. Then Bobo offers zero public support for the coach he hired who gets so screwed by officials every week that we get national television coverage for it.
We founded this league, but our current administrators just let it crap all over us, from the network to the scheduling to the zebras. Say “I surrender” in loosier?
Our players fall on their own swords more than they do opponents. Our lines get blurred and buried. The QB locks in and throws game-ending picks while open receivers wave at Mom. Defenders show why they couldn’t play offense or even serve as homecoming escorts. Social distancing? Let our DBs show you. Then we snatch flags from the jaws of good plays. Special teams all have special needs.
And the best defender on the entire field gets the boot for a tackle that draws applause on sandlots. Crown of the helmet? Kiss our asses. That was a face-plant. Meanwhile our tight end gets kicked in the groin on the ground on purpose, and that offender helps make the game-clinching play. Get out the clothesline, Pop.
We don’t need to change a damned thing. Just let the team look at that tape 5 ticks before kickoff. Then we’ll all go throw some major monkey crap at the zebras while our boys clean some clocks.
