Week 6: The Suck

Brethren: This week's listless game on the road against Tampa was incredibly frustrating. The Panthers lost 27-3, but the worst part was that they never once seemed like they were in the game. It was gut-wrenching to watch, as the Panthers seemed sluggish, slow, ill-prepared, and like they simply didn't give a fuck.

The team is trying to spin it as just another loss -- that losing by 24 counts just as much as losing by 1. While that's certainly the right attitude for my team to have, it does not at all convey my emotions while watching this team two days ago.

My true anger has mostly subsided, as I'm doing the tried and true, "ignore-stomach-let the insides simmer" treatment that all great Cloud men employ, so that this bottled-up choler just festers inside, until one day, it'll come violently spilling out when aggressively drinking Grandpa's Old Cough Medicine.

Besides, I've got a full report from the Cap'n that's full of venom and froth. The jump'll contain that, some odd musings from me, and a report from Nacho -- who was at a wedding this weekend and didn't catch the game at all. Lucky him.

Follow me. Follow me to freedom...


Cap'n Pappy: OK here goes: In a weekend when my college teams (UVA and the Gators) refused to go down, the Panthers were pitiful. In the case of both college teams, the first half was well played. After the half, both teams' opponents made a run out of the chute. However, in both cases the Cavaliers and Gators shook off the pressure and instead of playing not to lose, they got aggressive and gutted it out to prevail.

Now we come to the Panthers. This game was so "shades of the last 2 years" in so many ways. The Panthers have fallen prey to playing the entire game the way they play the first series of downs. After a smokin' game against the Chiefs (yes, they are as bad as beef BBQ), they came to the Pirate Ship with more offensive weapons, a suffocating defense, and special teams vastly improved over last year. Whereupon, somehow Smitty got lost out there. Jake threw one way while his receivers broke the other. We got another freaking punt blocked!!!! And we continue to get motion penalties on offense.

In a mirror image nightmare reversal of my college teams, the Panthers come back at the end of the first half only to throw an interception, turning an almost certain less than 7 point deficit into a 2 touchdown deficit. We then come out from the halftime and promptly get punted onto the 1 yard line. Whereupon we run 3 times into the line and we're out. Thankfully, our end zone punt wasn't blocked. After this series, we were notably silent. Where was the 1-2 punch of DeAngelo and Stewart, the bestial defense of just last week, and the special teams that gave the Chiefs the back of their hand? They mailed it in.

Note to John Fox: "It is what it is" as a response to this week's Pirate Ship showing is not going to cut it. It is time to expect more from these professionals or bench/fine them.

You miss a block that costs points: go sit!

You flinch on the line and turn a 3d & 4 into a 3d & 9: go sit!

You arm tackle or try to bump somebody without wrapping them up or stripping them: go sit!

It is high time to earn the big bucks. Your fans are tired of choosing yard work over the second half of a Panthers' game. Out. Pappy

Brethren: I wasn't fuckin around. The Cap'n brung it. Just a few more musings, then perhaps Nacho will do a "Off the Beaten Path" post regaling us all with the wonderful world of weddings:

- Anyone else notice that the head ref for the Tampa-Carolina game gave "the shocker" whenever indicating third down? If we had won this game, I would have reported it with glee. Now, just seems odd.

- My good buddy and Bobcat employee, Eugene, is ready to patent his well-crafted "Back Up QB Theory" -- namely, that every time a team switches to its back-up QB the week leading up to the Panthers game, our Cats are guaranteed to lose that game. It's happened in both of our losses this year. It happened last year when the Falcons came to Charlotte and promoted John Joseph Harrington. It happened a few years back when Tony Romo got his first shot at starting. If this weren't such a hurtful theory on my Sunday emotional state, I'd be singing the praises of Eugene for recognizing the pattern.

- It's almost as if young Eugene's Theory is somehow connected to the fact that our coach is notorious for being stubborn. Fuck it, I said I wasn't gonna get angry, but here it comes. Honestly: down 14-0 early in the first quarter doesn't change your game plan at all, John Fox? You still think plowing head for 3 and outs will "establish" the running game. Our biggest gains on offense came in the fourth quarter, down 3 possessions, when Jake started running a somewhat urgent/no-huddle offense. And by then, our offense was so lulled to sleep, the receivers (Jarrett, Rosario, and yes, Steve Smith) all dropped passed. Shit, John Fox! Somedays establishing the run early can pay dividends. But when it's halftime, you're down 14 points, and nothing's going, it may be time to spice things up. Even the supposed ultra-conservative DAN HENNING has figured that out with his Wildcat offense down in Miami. Fuck.

- That anger didn't even come close to matching the Cap'n's. He does have a few years of the "bottling anger" routine on me.

- Anger over. Moving on to more important divisional home game against New Orleans. With a surprisingly competitive NFC South, it's time to take back some control.
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Some Historical Perspective

Nacho: When I think back to the epic Lakers/Celtics series from the 80s, I distinctly remember my thoughts on the topic: adding cinnamon to apple sauce creates a nectar of the Gods.

Since both Brethren were still in shorts pants during Magic and Bird's tussles, we'll pass the mic to Cap'n Pappy.

Cap'n Pappy: So, Elvis is in the Army in Germany. The biggest sports event of the era (baseball's World Series) for the first time in forever did not feature the Yankees (White Sox of Nellie Fox, Rudy LaRusso, and Luis Aparicio) but did feature the newest twist in US sports: a professional team on the West Coast (Dodgers of Koufax, Drysdale and Maury Wills). The NFL championship had settled into a dynasty (the Colts beat the New York football Giants in a rematch of the greatest NFL game every played: the Sudden Death Colts victory of Unitas, Raymond Berry, and Alan "The Horse" Ameche). It's 28 degrees in February and yet it's the perfect weather for copying Bob Cousy's behind the back dribble/pass and Elgin Baylor's one hand free throws on the basketball hoop nailed to the garage.

The rest of his thoughts, after...


Cap'n Pappy cont'd The infancy of what would become the NBA's greatest rivalry was just hatching. The MINNEAPOLIS (Great) Lakers of NBA Rookie of the Year Elgin Baylor, Vern Mikkelsen, Rudy LaRusso (yes the baseball player), Hot Ro d Hundley, and Frank Selvy (Yes, that Frank Selvy: the only collegiate basketball player in history to score 100 pts in a game: for Furman against Newberry College) were up against the Boston Celtics of Cousy, Russell, Howell, Sharman, Gene Conley (yes the Red Sox pitcher),the Jones boys, and Satch Sanders (an old version of Cornbread Maxwell).

Why has David Stern wanted so much to have today's Celtics & Lakers back on the court? Well, KG vs Kobie was preceded not only by Chamberlain/Russell and Kareem/McHale. But by Jerry West against Bob Cousy; by Hondo Havlicek, Larry Siegfried, and Don Nelson (yes that Don Nelson) against Elgin Baylor, Gail Goodrich, and Walt Hazzard. Realize that the Celtics were in the NBA finals 11 of 13 years during that time. and the Lakers were their only serious rivals (except for when Wilt was with the 76'ers). This is without mentioning the 80's teams of Magic and Bird (oh and Michael Cooper, Worthy, Byron Scott, AC Green, and Rambo). Possibly the most impressive hit ever recorded on hardwood was a product of this rivalry: the clothesline takedown of Rambis by McHale as Rambis attempts a snowbird layup. In the 1962 finals against the Lakers, Russell pulled down FORTY!!!! rebounds in one game. (Only surpassed by Wilt's 41 rebounds in 1967) Oh yes, and the steal of the inbounds pass that we always hear Johnny Most's overdubbed yelling about Bird pulling off.

That is just a ghostly echo of Havlicek's feat, the game of Dr J and MJ is directly descendant from Elgin Baylor.

Some historical perspective from Capn Pappy.
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Of Man-Babies and Perspective

Nacho: Cap'n Pappy graduated from Davidson in, like, 1912 or something. He gives us his take on his beloved Wildcats, whether we ask for it or not...

Cap'n Pappy: Back in the spring of '69, just a couple of months before Neil Armstrong would take "one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind", I thought I would check the roundball team of the college I would be attending in the coming fall. I mean, how good could they really be? A small group of their students with Rhett Butler accents had just won the College Bowl (kind of a nerd's version of Jeopardy) where college students competed against each other in answering obscure questions about history, archeology, and literature, beating Harvard, Yale, Penn and others. So I adjusted the rabbit ears, the vertical and horizontal on the TV set, and then WALKED BACK ACROSS THE ROOM to sit down (yes our version of the remote at the time was to get your little brother or sister to walk up to the TV and change the channel).

Cap'n, cont'd: Well, it turns out that it was Lefty Driesell's last season at Davidson and Charlie Scott of Carolina would score at the buzzer over the outstretched arms of Wildcat defenders at the top of the key to advance Carolina to the Final 4 from the East Regional (back in the day when ONLY the conference champion went the to the Big Dance). Terry Holland took over from Lefty and my school of 1170 students would continue what would become its perennial advance to the NCAA tournaments during my tenure there. Since I was a Floridian, I had me some learnin to do about ACC basketball and Davidson basketball. Yeah I knew the SEC and Adolph Rupp and the Duke teams of the mid 60's with Marin, Vacendak, and a guy named Jeff Mullins (who would later coach at UNCC). When I got to Davidson I had to memorize the local traditions: Snyder, Hetzel, Huckle, and yes, Terry Holland. I'll never forget the road trips into the Olde Charlotte Coliseum (a 50's vintage building that looked that the UFO that Michael Rennie emerged from in "The Day the Earth Stood Still") to watch Cook, Kroll, Kirley, Malloy, and Bryan Adrian match up against South Carolina with Roach, Riker, and Ribock, and the Tar Heels when Dean Smith had hair. We loved having Carolina students visit the Davidson campus so we could whistle and shout out "Here, Dean" to the lab running around campus (Terry Holland named his dog Dean Smith). Mike Malloy's fro was way better than Will Ferrell's.

I never thought I'd live long enough to see the Cats challenge the power schools again. I cannot tell you how much I love that the Hornets legacy of Dell Curry/Stephen Curry whipped the butts of Ewing Jr./ and JT3. I ran into a die-hard Hokie fan in an airport last weekend who was disconsolate that Va Tech's coach Greenberg offered the younger Curry a possible scholarship beginning in the sophomore year if he would walk on as a freshman. That's only 30 ppg (or is it per half) the Hokies are missing this year. Not to men tion a very nice character antidote to Michael and Marcus Vick. I also love it that Bob McKillop is following in the tradition of Lefty Driesell and Terry Holland in recruiting outside the box. Lefty was one of the first guys to comb the entire country to find a few guys who wouldn't mind moving from Ohio, Florida, NYC, or Australia to Davidson NC to play college hoops and drink beer at Hattie's Truck Stop. McKillop has just expanded Lefty's Davidson horizons to become a global recruiter (Europe/Africa/Australia). Just a note to the Badgers (the next bowl of Cat-food): how many languages can you talk trash in?
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SB Interviews: JWho? JLew!

Brethren: Yes, it's Interview Week here at the Sports Brethren. The charming photo stage left is of the former Clemson soccer star* who goes by the name Jarrett Ramos Lewis. People who like to make him believe they are his friends call him "JLew." JLew played goalie (in fairyworld, they call them "keepers") and he arrived on campus a much-ballyhooed recruit. He accomplishments at the high school level included being named to the All-State team his sophomore year only to not sniff the honorary team ever again. While at Clemson, JLew often was on the proverbial IR, but he ended up totaling four years on the team. He recently left the squad this past summer when he couldn't get through yet another injury rehabilitation and the political world began calling his name. While on the sockher team, JLew's Tigers always had a winning record, and in the 2005-2006 season, they even made the NCAA Final Four. This year, their first without JLew since 2003, they are 6-8-1 and 1-5 in ACC play. 'Nuff said.

Neither Brethren nor Nacho came even remotely close to playing collegiate athletics. The "amateurs" that play the games (even if they are soccer games) fascinate us a bit, and we got to thinking about what that would be like to have it ripped away. So we caught up with JLew to get inside the mind of a former college athlete who has tasted the hilltops, seen the glory, and is now just satisfied getting drunk and watching his football team underperform like the rest of us.

(* = as much as a guy who started maybe two games in his career be a star)

The interview, if you follow us through

SB: Since you left the Clemson mens soccer team, how have you been dealing with life away from the limelight? Doing lots of cocaine off stripper's tits? Putting on a few lbs from that Keystone Light? Crying like a girl?

JLew: The stripper thing mostly. I do however like to write down my thoughts and emotions from time to time, which I will use for my auto-biography "JLEW: Confessions of a Serial Gun User".

SB: Take me through your emotions on a Clemson soccer game day. What's it like as a has-been as opposed when you were an injury-ridden player?

JLew: I would say it's similar to that guy who always talks about winning the baseball state championship in high school though he played one inning all year. You of course remember that guy, right? (Ed. Note: That'd be Brethren; fuck yea I was a sophomore and we won that shit. Nacho was there in attendance, drunk.)

As for my gameday routine I can get drunk during the game and yell now. I especially loved the mom who told a group of us former players that we had ruined soccer for their son after a game a few weeks ago (to which one of my former drunk irish teammates who had coached the kid responded with "well maybe you shouldn't have married such an unathletic deuche"...true story)

SB: What was your favorite injury that you sustained?

JLew: Jeez, there have been so many to choose from. I would go with the hernia junior year of high school. Simply because the surgeon was a baller. Too bad his third child didn't turn out like they had hoped. (Ed. Note:The surgeon was none other than Cap'n Pappy. Brethren's his third child.)

SB: Is it weird that you're no longer a student athlete and yet you were named the Touchstone Energy Teammate of the Week this week? Are they implying the team is better off without you on it? That you help the team by not being a part of it? (Check out minute 12:22 of this week's Tommy Bowden Show)

JLew: Actually the guys look to me for advice on a day to day basis with issues both on and off the field. Such as what is the best way to look at girls in the stands without getting caught by the coaches or cameras. Or what is the best method to toss a player on the field a water bottle at a stoppage of play (you need more of a line drive throw...too much arc and you run the risk of the player losing it under the lights).

SB: How much box did you slay using the line, "Yea, I play soccer for Clemson."?

JLew: Let's just say during my career I would have given Wilt a run for his money.

SB: Do your "friends" who are still on the soccer team treat you like just another one of those fags who aren't athletes?

JLew: This coming from the guy who still lives in his frat boy glory days. Grow up, Peter Pan, Count Chocula.

SB: Isn't soccer for queers?

JLew: Proabably. But Dee wouldn't let me play anything else.

SB: You're goofy. I mean look at you! -->

JLew: (Silence).

SB: How did David Beckham coming to the US to play soccer help out the sport's popularity in this country where we live?

JLew: It didn't at all. If we want to draw the average American sports-viewer attention we need to do something better than bring over a fairy from across the pond. Really MLS? Really? Make the goals bigger, shorten the field, add cheerleaders, do away with red cards...no, the league pays an over the hill poster face 250 million to revive the league. (sorry, this one still has me fuming).

SB: Considering his hobbled, crippled state, is Beckham still capable of bending anything? Victoria?

JLew: Well since soccer is not for those of the heterosexual type as you so kindly suggested earlier, my theory is that David does not ride the skin bus to Posh's tuna town. (Ed Note: Good point.)

SB: In feet, what's the total length of cock you've seen as part of a college athletic team in the showers? Best estimate.

JLew:I can only imagine the Cap'n and Mammy's faces when they read this question. But in all fairness I would say roughly 30 feet. Oh wait I guess I should count myself too...make that 30 feet 9 inches.

SB: Could you help Greg Ryan out with some change?

JLew: I only would have liked the move if we could have seen Solo and Briana Scurry battle it out with Blue KY Style....meanwhile, I am thinking reality show for the next coach they hire.

SB: Hope Solo: future ex-wife of Nacho Friendly, or future ex-wife of Brethren?

JLew: Ex Nacho Friendly. She would break the Brethren. Plus she's a left coaster. Advantage: Mullet-less Nacho.

SB: Have you achieved a level of ninjadom that allows you to play shaolin soccer?

JLew:Not quite there, but with the Olympics in China next summer, I hope to achieve that level as can be provided by the one and only Mr. Miyagi.


SB: Would it help or hurt the MLS to find out Freddie Adu spreads his seed better than Travis Henry?

JLew: You guys must not be up to speed on your MLS. Freddy is playing in Europe now. Look, I gotta go pee, but I'd really like to continue talking about this conversation when I come back.

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I Plain Straight Hate You, But Damnit Do I Respect You, Wes Bynum

Cap'n Pappy attended his parents' 60th wedding anniversary this weekend in Florida. Thus, he was surrounded by Gator fans as they watched their eleven-game winning streak come to an end at a familiar place: the hands of Auburn. He files this report:

Cap'n Pappy: My pick for best SEC story of the week is the last second field goal victory of the Auburn Tigers over the Gators at the Swamp. Auburn, after losing to South Florida and Mississippi State, the Tigers/War Eagles/Plainsmen go into the Swamp a decided dog. After showing that straight ahead single wing runs into the teeth of the defensive line by Tebow were not going to work no matter how many times the play was run, the Auburn offense put points on the board in the first half while shutting out the Gators.

Feel the pain, after...


After halftime, Mercy Percy Harvin and Tebow stepped up the offensive diversity and the teams wound up tied with seconds to go in the game. Now here is the story of the week: kicker and true freshman Wes Byrum has been warming up on the sidelines and comes in to kick the game winner from 48 yards out.

Byrum is out of St Thomas Aquinas High in FORT LAUDERDALE! Urban Meyer pulls an NFL maneuver and calls time out just before the snap to the ref on the sidelines. Obviously even though the whistle blew, Auburn completes the play and Byrum makes the field goal.

Of course, we are talking about 93,000 screaming Gator Nation home denizens makes enough noise to shake the sod and we are also talking about a true freshman playing his first big SEC game in a decidedly hostile environment. Byrum comes to the sidelines during the timeout, trots back onto the field and proceeds to kick a SECOND 48 yard field goal through the uprights to beat Florida with no time left on the clock. As he is running to the Auburn bench celebrating, he is doing the Gator chomp at midfield at the Swamp, a Florida boy at that.

You can't ice a guy with ice water in his veins.

Even though it pained me greatly as a charter member of the Gator Nation, I can't help but tip my hat to this kid. An awesome stone cold in your face maneuver for a freshman.

Capn Pappy
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Cap'n Pappy's Marshland Adventures, Part the First

This past weekend Cap'n Pappy conned Mammy in to going down to Florida under the auspice of "visiting friends". What Mammy neglected to realize was that the Vols were in town and they was lookin' fer an ass beatin'. Cap'n Pappy files this report from the Swampy Marshland:

The Pilgrimage (with respect to Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales)


In September when the tropical lows begin to form off the coast of Africa
And the leaves begin to change in most college towns
Sightings of the reptiles Albert and Alberta (the Gator mascots) begin
And football fans begin their pilgrimages
To the place where only Gators get out alive: The Swamp!

Yes, the Florida Field at the Ben Hill Griffin Stadium is the mecca
For cowboys from Kissimmee, bucanneers from Captiva
Water moccasin skinners from Alligator Alley, crackers from Sopchoppy.
They begin their pilgrimages closer than we did and in more esteemed transports

Swamp Things, horned Cadilllacs, satellite-dished RV’s with smokers in tow
Orange and blue way-off-road Big Feet, F250’s sporting pennants and awnings
Wend their way to the little town uphill from Payne’s Prairie, Gainesville.

Ben Hill Griffin, cattle rancher and grove boss from my part of the state, typified the loyalty to the Orange & Blue
Y’all need a new stadium? Hell, why didn’t ya tell me, boys.
Few head of cattle later, the impenetrable walls of the Swamp appear. Impenetrable because you can’t get OUT til the Gators stop feedin.

Photo from EDSBS


The rhymenocerous graze, after...


This pilgrimage was the first for my wife, co-creator of the Sports Brethren
She grew up a Redskins fan, an NFL fan, and has never understood the magnetism of college football. No doubt because the only college football she was exposed to was ACC (wait til hoops season). She thinks Cameron Indoor is loud.

We arrive Friday and already the RV’s have the satellite dishes out. The pigs are smokin. By Saturday at 0900 hours, the transports are parked on every square inch of concrete and sand and the speakers are blaring Rocky Top and the Orange and the Blue. On this Saturday as the nearly 100,000 of the Gator Nation fill up the Swamp, the national champion Gator roundball team is introduced and receive their championship rings. As the practicing teams clear the field, Mr. 2 Bits leads the first cheer. Mr. 2 Bits, an 85 year old gentleman in seersucker, saddle oxfords, tie, and straw boater, who has not missed a home game since Tennessee was half of North Carolina, seems to tolerate the 110 degree field temperature better than the Vols. As he jogs off the field, the chant begins. The 50,000 in the student section are “Orange”: a 3.5 on the Richter. The 50,000 on our side are “Blue” and the drink in my Gator cup is vibrating like the footfalls of T Rex in Jurassic Park.

This continues louder and louder until on the Big Screen we hear the 2 notes of the Jaws theme and see live footage of real alligators in a swamp feeding frenzy. At this moment the team races onto the field from the SouthEast corner of the Swamp and you have the audible equivalent of Krakatoa. My wife is laughing and holding her ears. Laughing because the game has not even begun and Redskin fans in DC are wondering what that noise was. Holding her ears so that they don’t bleed.

The kickoff ensues, the Vols punt after their first drive falters, and the punt is promptly returned by Brandon James for a touchdown. As Mick Hubert, voice of the Gators, would put it: Oh My! The first half stays relatively close until Mercy Percy Harvin starts making moves that would put a sailfish to shame, Tim Tebow alternates strikes between single wing, T quarterback, and shotgun, Woody Pierre-Louis, the French cornerback, shuts down Ainge’s passing game and there you go Dustin Doe shuts down the run. The only break in the beatdown is between the 3d and 4th quarters when the crowd sings We are the Boys from Old F-L-O-R-I-D-A. At one point in the 4th quarter, the Vols begin a series on their 10 or 15 with a delay of game and a 6 men on the line illegal formation penalty. 59 points later after Tennessee is dispatched the throngs along the roads from the stadiums graciously crank up the speakers to accompany the Orange and White RV’s leaving to the tune of Rocky Top.

The Swamp transports head back home along US 441, the Woodpecker Trail, the EC Rowell thru the Green Swamp, and the Sunshine State Parkway to rest their throats til next home game. 17 in a row have fallen in the Swamp. My wife is happy to return to North Carolina and the land of the sane, Tobacco Road, land of hoop dreams. There are far too many dangerous animals on the other side of the Great Okeefenokee.

Capn Pappy 9/07






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Guest Column: The Cap'n Pappy

Brethren: If you readers out there in the interwebs ever wondered how or why the Sports Brethren are the way we are, Nacho and I thought we'd give ya a little piece of the puzzle today. See, we are just learning that our pappy, whom we affectionately call Cap'n Pappy, is a bit of wordsmith himself.

So we's gonna let the Cap'n pen our first guest column. His subject: what else? What he knows best: Southern football.

If you wanna a glimpse into the fantastical world it is to be a Cloud boy, keep on reading after:



SEC FOOTBALL

My first inklings of the impact of SEC football in the South was living in Memphis in the late 50’s. The only thing bigger at the time was Elvis…until September. Each year the last reigning days of “the King” was his show at the Mid South Fair, the Cotton Carnival in early September. After that it was SEC football night and day. After the heat of the delta summer baked in all the smells, every morning of game day Saturdays, the first coolness of fall released the aroma of the mown grass, earth damp from the morning dew, and woodsmoke from early fires.

Memphis was turf battled over by warring Rebel/Vol factions. Even though technically we were in Tennessee, Ole Miss was a national powerhouse (national champions in ’59, ’60, and ’62). North Mississippians regaled us with tales of Coach Johnny Vaught and his All Americans: Charlie Conerly, Jake Gibbs, Cowboy Woodruff, Charlie Flowers, and Billy Brewer. The national anthem was followed immediately by “Dixie” and rebel yells and then the kickoff. Tennessee was actually a weak sister led by Johnnie Majors. Our personal experience of this was the annual Tennessee/Ole Miss football game in Memphis at Thanksgiving, sometimes even sitting thru snow. At that time the LSU Tigers, with Paul Dietzel’s Chinese Bandit defense competed with the Ole Miss Rebels. Billy Cannon returned a punt in the 4th quarter for the Bayou Bengals against the Rebels 89 yards to win 7-3 at night in Death Valley. Bear Bryant was the new coach at Alabama. Our neighborhood kid, Mike Fracchia, whose parents owned Fracchia’s grocery store at the end of the block, chose to go to Alabama and we actually pitied him.

So after being born and bred into the SEC and absorbing the lore of pit barbecue, tailgating spreads, rebel yells, and the tribal pride of whipping the other guys ass, we moved into the Swamp, the land of the Gator. Unfortunately, the Gators were dismal until they recruited a brash young guy from Tennessee to play quarterback, future Heisman trophy winner, Steve Spurrier. Insanely, the Gators actually beat the likes of the Tide under Spurrier. So a new tradition developed. Stetson-hatted cattle ranchers and citrus grove bosses, descended across Payne’s Prairie to a little cow town north of Ocala in their boat shaped Cadillacs with the steer horns on the hood. Once these shit-kickers got a taste of whipping the boys from LSU, Alabama, Ole Miss, and Tennessee, they were blooded. The quaint stadium surrounded by pine trees, live oaks, and Spanish moss gave way to The Swamp: a grueling, Saturn rocket loud, enclosed, subterranean field where opponents would be exposed to conditions of 110-120 degrees. Unfortunately for them, the mighty Gators thrived on the subtropical conditions and the boys from “up north” in Alabama and Tennessee were only used to 90 degrees. A river of athletic football talent flowed thru the Swamp that drowned the visiting boys. They were in over their heads. Larry Smith, Jack Youngblood, Jack Harper, Charlie Casey, Spurrier, Steve Tannen, John Reeves, Emmitt Smith, Leto Shepard, The Freek Kersey, Fred Taylor, Alex Brown, Dallas Baker, Tony Green, Wes Chandler, and now Tim Tebow.

There can be no better Saturday than waking up early and hitting the EC Rowell Highway. This is quite possibly the longest perfectly straight flat road in the world outside a desert and a favorite of armadillos. It is literally a strip of asphalt elevated about 3 feet above the cypress and pine of the Green Swamp on either side. There is no shoulder. We would finally get to Highway 301 and later the Interstate joining the trucks and cadillacs at Payne’s Prairie with pennants flapping. This armada then descends on Sonny’s or the Big D for barbecue to fuel the 6 hour tailgate. The crowds from Apopka to Zephyrhills then converge past pine, palm, and live oak covered in Spanish moss across the sandy Bermuda and Bahia, to arrive at the bane of all northern Southern boys: the Swamp. Abandon hope all ye who enter here! After 2 bits, Orange/Blue echoes off the Bell Tower, and the thrashing on the grass administered by the reptilian kings of the gridiron, the only thing left to do is to watch the Coach praise the boys from Kissimmee to Maclenny on the Sun Sports Network on Sunday.

Capn Pappy

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