Let your Trevmail run wild and free

By Trev Alberts
formerly of ESPN.com

I have returned from the mailbox with a bountiful harvest, just as predicted! Thanks to all of those who wrote in. For your noble efforts, we will be rewarding you with one (1) Trev Fun Dollar as soon as we can get those presses back up and running.

We're still working on the ink balance, but I like the prototype.

I've put Bloo in charge of distribution, so I'm sure all will go smoothly. On to your queries for the Oracle at Trev!

Q: Thanks for taking my question. Given the following three options, which would you say best describes Mark May's preshow preparation?
1. Pint of Early Times in the right suit pocket.
2. Inspector Clouseau goatee disguise kit.
3. Scanning the thesaurus for big words that mean the same thing as good and bad.
And as a follow-up, besides not kicking Mark May "squaw in the nuts", is there anything else you regret not doing before you left ESPN?

Thanks,
Johnny, http://mountainlair.blogspot.com

Trev: Normally, I wouldn't divulge such trade secrets, Johnny, but I thought Mark's preshow routine was so ridiculous, I just have to let everyone in on it. About an hour before we would go to air, Mark would seclude himself in his dressing room. He would leap out of the makeup chair if they kept him a second too long, and run down the halls to make it on time. You see, Mark's mix tape is exactly 60 minutes long, and it must be heard in its entirety. Without the highlights from "1776," Mark doesn't go on. No way. So I guess the answer is a combination of 1 and 2. Furthermore, I DID kick Mark squaw in the nuts before I left, he seemed oddly satisfied by it. However, what I regret most is never getting the chance to tell Lou Holtz that I loved him in the Beverly Hillbillies.

Q: Trev, watching Lou Holtz on TV is like watching my Grandpa. Every time he
isn't talking, he stares at the camera with a goofy/endearing smile -even though you know everyone's telling him to look at the person that's speaking. Did Lou ever try to pull a quarter out from behind your ear or yell at you for skateboarding on the sidewalks?
-Not an SEC Fan

Trev: Lou Holtz carries Werther's Originals butterscotch candies with him wherever he goes. He hands them out to PAs, grips, cameramen, and pages like they were going out of style. One time, he was able to convince me about the merits of the South Carolina running game by simply doling out a few while he made his point. Lou even came *this* close to convincing the producers to remodel the Gameday set to look like his front porch, fireflies and everything. He absolutely loves those sweet, buttery candies. They're just plain good.

Q: Trev-Who would win in a fight, a crocodile or a clydesdale?

Trev: A crocodile would kick the King of Horses patoot in 3 rounds. The only way this is even close to fair is if you put spikes on the clydesdale's hooves. It's just science.

Q: Trev- what does coach weis really keep in his [well...you know....]?
is it alive? harboring an alien? is that where he really was keeping
the megaphone trophy?
-Carl, Chicago IL

Trev: Good question. I have long since pondered what um...lie beneath...Its true purpose could be to lull the opposition into a docile, hypnotic state, kind of like a lava lamp. Others, mainly this guy, think that it is merely artifice disguising the Genius Robot's inner workings. I believe the official answer to this is "presents for all of us," but the kid says "glory," so I'm going to have to side with our editor on this one. Whatever it is, I just hope it remains a mystery.

Q: Why all of the hate for Arizona State?
-Ryan, Tempe AZ

Trev: It's not that I have anything against the Sun Devils, or even Tempe for that matter, but I just can't play them on Xbox. I'm sorry, but they're just another one of those random ordinary teams that feels like EA said "Meh, I guess they're an....83?" and put them in ASU's uniforms. It's a lot like Mortal Kombat when they started adding all those new ninjas, but they were just Red/Green/Purple/etc. Sub-Zeros. That, and it's hard enough for me to play the new NCAA as it is. With a team like that, I spend half of the game trying to figure out what they do best, and that's with selecting plays "by superstar," that by the halftime I'm usually trying to find a subtle way to "switch up the teams." This is why I hate ASU. They make me that guy.

Q: HELLO, I AM JEREMY SCHAAP, SON OF THE LATE MR. DICK SCHAAP. PLEASE
LISTEN TO MY VERY MODEST PROPOSALI HAVE IN MY POSESSION 250,000 ESPN
MOBILE PHONES WORTH TWENTYFIVE MILLION U.S DOLLARS (US$25,000,000).
I NEED HELP TRANSPORTING THESE TO STORES SO THEY CAN BE RESELL.
IF YOU ARE WILLING TO ASSIST US IN RECEIVING THIS MONEY ON OUR
BEHALF, WE SHALL GIVE YOU 10% OF THE TOTAL SUM. YOU NEED ONLY TO
PAY SHIPPING FEE WORTH $10,000 TO RECEIVE YOUR REWARD (US$2,500,000).
PLEASE ENSURE TO KEEP THIS PROPOSAL VERY SECRET AND CONFIDENTIAL FOR
OBVIOUS REASONS AND SEND TO US YOUR PRIVATE TELEPHONE/FACSIMILE
NUMBER FOR EASY AND CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATION.
WE AWAIT YOUR IMMEDIATE RESPONSE.
SINCERELY,
JEREMY SCHAAP, SON OF THE LATE MR. DICK SCHAPP

Trev: Yeah...about that. ESPN Mobiles are worthless. Thanks to KankaSports for passing this chain letter on. I'll forward you all of those "v1agra 4 $$$" emails I keep getting, and I signed you up for some dirty Asian newsletters. Enjoy.

Q: Trev, sometimes I will be watching the ABC studio show and I will say to
myself, "Wow, Trev Alberts is actually making sense today!" Then I
realize I'm actually watching Craig James. Did you ever get any
your former ESPN/ABC coworkers confused?
-Aaron T., San Francisco

Trev: All the time, Aaron. This all stems from the fact that ESPN has been growing anchormen in petri dishes since sometime in the mid-to-late 90s. They took DNA from eveyrone on "The Big Show" and started developing their own, low-cost race of super anchors. The Kenny Mayne/Craig Kilborn hybrid archetype has been working very well in the likes of such indistinguishable talent such as Scott Van Pelt, Neil Everett, Mike Hall, and whats-his-name on ESPNNews. They're all so hospitably smarmy and perfectly obedient. Experiments fusing Tom Jackson with Mike Lupica, however, have gone unsuccsessful, but the lab guys are always working on new and exciting techniques in this particular field. Getting back to your question, I turned on the WWL last night and could have sworn they had re-hired me. Turns out it was just Pat Forde, but they had me fooled. Man, I miss that guy. Back when I was in Bristol, they used to let me tote him around like my own personal Mini-Me. Those were the days.

Q: Trev, when did Illinois get a fight song? Is this like a new thing? They beat MSU two weeks ago, and all of a sudden I see [name redacted] leading the guys in some random song that ends with "duh-duhduh-DUH-duh-duhduh-DUH-HEY!" It's been driving me crazy ever since. Seriously, it's all I'm thinking about...
-[name also redacted], East Lansing MI

Trev: We had a roundtable discussion at the office soon after this upset, [redacted]. Granted, the interns were all as bumfuzzled as you were by the appearance of this new information, and immediately began scouring the inter-tubes for any record of Illini pep music. The only things we could find were that snappy "Oskeewowow" business and that "This is kind of the chop, but not really, leave us alone, NCAA" chant. In the midst of the research, we went out to the local Bennigan's to celebrate Bloo's birthday in fantabulous style when we found it. The song that has your brain thoroughly addled is the Bennigan's birthday song. This is probably compatible with other Big Ten lore, as historians generally agree that MSU's fight song was derived from an early Applebee's jingle.

Q: Trev,
Wassup, man. Hope you're having a blast with the boys.
One question: If we've been inappropriately groped by Mike Tirico, who do we call?
-Orson Swindle, EDSBS.com

Trev: It is indeed, sir, a blasty. In reference to your particular situation, there is a standard ESPN hotline we used to call in case of inappropriate groping. Since the advent of the new ESPN credit card, however, that number has been replaced by Washington Mutual customer service (1-800-788-7000). Lately, I've been hearing that the staffers just head on down to the Bristol Outback Steakhouse and talk to Harold Reynolds. Ever since his own incident, he's been tending bar, dispensing outrageously kooky concoctions along with insightful baseball analysis to local patrons. If you do get over there to see him, remember to point out on the doll where he touched you.

Q: When I awoke this morning in my hovel on the Vltava, still sullenly resenting my father stubborn insistence that I become, like him, nothing but a worthless shopkeeper and still suffering my the toothache that has pained me these last seven months, I was struck horribly and suddenly by the cruelty and meaninglessness of life, as well as by my harridan landlady, who reminded me sharply that I had yet to pay this month’s rent. My shame and confusion were worsened by the fact that I have no hovel on the Vltava, no landlady, and no shopkeeper father, my current residence being the equally boring suburban location and my last experience of this degree of confusion and humiliation was a vague memory of being torn to bloody shreds by wolves, yet still retaining an alert awareness of each separated, agonized pierce of my once-body.
Taking the strange change in my circumstances in stride, I skittered through the streets of Prague , searching for meaning and identity. I asked many questions at many shops. I drank deeply of an unsettling green liquid, which failed to jog my memory. At last I came before a gatekeeper. I asked him if he could give me meaning, and he asked me my name. When I shared with him this, this lone piece of information that I had salvaged from my dark, nightmare-ridden slumber, he smirked strangely, and bowed ever so slightly, then gestured me to advance through the gate. Feeling a sense of impossible violation, I proceeded.
Inside were wonderous yet sinister devices—some hell-forged machinery which offered a diabolic promise—I could learn my identity, but only at the price of my soul. Wailing in torment, I signed the agreement, and paid $1.99 (or local equivalent—the symbols were, though foreboding, meaningless to me. The tale of how I obtained these funds is far to harrowing to share.) I asked the infernal devices to tell me my identity, and they directed me here, to your soul-shattering “web page.”
And so, Trev Alberts, here are my questions: Who am I? Why do you write about me? Are you watching me? Whither comes your authority? How many of you are there? What have I done wrong? Why am I in Prague ? Why am I cursed to live? Yet I dare not die since I am damned…
Yours in despair,
Mike Kafka

P.S. Where can I get the phone number of that Purdue girl? She is a wonderous creature, confirming all of my beliefs about the universe.

Trev: Um, wow. I knew the Northwestern offense was bad....but...wow. My advice to you is to begin drinking heavily. We're dispatching our legal department to..wherever the heck you are, and we hope to get you back to this mortal coil as soon as lucratively possible. All I can tell you right now is that your probably going to freak out real bad before this thing starts to get better. If you've got any Jefferson Airplane or maybe some Allman Brothers albums lying around, you might want to turn those on. Deep Purple is good too. Just remember that you are a living organism on this planet, and that you are very safe. Just mellow out the best you can, okay?

That's it for now, comrades. Be sure to shoot an email over to our noble cause (fotop81 at the yahoo dot com -the kid), and we'll try to to make this a regular thing. Show them my byline...

Trev Alberts is a former ESPN analyst. He doesn't think that Purdue girl has a phone.