Unified Scene

By Trev Alberts
formerly of ESPN.com

It's been a long time coming for something like this, and I can't say the Trev is all too surprised or all too pleased to see it go down like this. Well, I guess it could be all for the best as I'm left to stew here in my own private intertubes, continuing to fight the good fight against whatever the hell it is I feel like fighting today. What can I say? I'm a very angry Trev, but I am also a loving and compassionate Trev. So with this, I tell my young apprentice to go forth and do whatever the heck his flights of fancy send him off to. It will all be over soon, I know The Kid. He'll be all committed and "yes, sir Mr. Alberts" for like a month and a half, next thing you know he's looking up how e can make moeny at home by raising endangered alpacas or some crazy shit like that. The internet will set him free, if he could only sack up and take the plunge.

So good riddance I say! I'll build my own college football blogosphere with blackjack! and hookers! Well, maybe not the blackjack. Anyway, this whole crazy thing is going to keep on keeping on whether you all like it or not, but I'll have to say that the Fire Mark May crusade will be taking on a different form, the next book in the Gospel of the Trev I guess. A corporate merger of sorts with plenty of goodwill from our FightinAmish friend over at that House Rock Built. I seem to be losing my loyal sidekick and stenographer while he goes off an tries his hand at a new "joint" in the Spike Lee/Spike Jonze sense of the word.

Godspeed, kid. I will hunt you down like the wild dog you are and kill you in your sleep, but I mean that in the most respectful way. You all haven't heard the last of the Trev. I swear a binding blood oath to myself to make you rue this day. On my self, I swear it.

Ezekiel 28:15

I think its about time we let you all in on the horrifying truth. This charade has gone on too long, months even, with lackluster reporting from the compound. Bloo's figmentatious glee has fallen silent, the Muppets are gathering a fine layer of dust, and I can't remember the last time we sent out the interns for a real dose of mischief. This can all be explained, but I'm going to ask the few loyal Trevians we have left to take the closest seat for this one.

Our Leader has abandoned us.



The Trev, Il Duce Emeritus himself, has fallen like the Morningstar and chosen to wreck vengeance on our beloved blogosphere. Like a tired interwebs metaphor, he is hunting down the noble blogging order and striking them down in the name of the Evil Empire. None shall be spared his wrath, not even Master Swindle.

So, we have hidden in secret. Destroying our own traffic just to lay low in hopes that we may survive the carnage, and putting out only our weakest efforts when necessary to remind all that there is still hope. Rebel forces will once again have a voice in this cold and unyielding future, but until then, we proceed with caution.

Rumors of this site's demise have been greatly exaggerated. Until then, we lie in wait, remembering the good times.

A New Car?

Bob Barker: All right Coach Rod, since the original Rod is dead, I'm going to have what his name up in the booth let you know what fabulous prize you can win today.

What's-his-name: It's A BCS CHAMPIONSHIP


(Coach Rod hoots and hollers on stage and almost does the worm, but thinks better of it. He proceeds to flip out, point to his lovely wife in the crowd, and gives Bob a big ol' bearhug.)

What's-his-name: That's right, its a 2009 BCS championship! Hand crafted crystal in the crystal mines of deepest darkest Ireland, next year's trophy is exquisitely furnished by the talented trophy smiths of Waterford. This, fully sanctioned NCAA honor can be yours if the Price is Right.

Rod: Me Wantee! (still flailing wildly, he points to wife again, mouths "I love you, baby!")

Bob: Ok, Rod. Now just calm down for a second. In order to get to that BCS title, you're going have to play one of our pricing games, and it just so happens to be a favorite of mine. We're going to play Cliffhanger!



Rod: Alright. Alright. I can do this. Lay it on me, Bob, just lay it on me.

Bob: Ok, Rich. Now, the object of the game is to get the correct amount for the following three items without going over 25. That's all three items, combined, Rich, and as you get them wrong our cliffhanger is going to scale this treacherous trail of his inch by inch. Ok then, Rich?

Rod: I got it, Bob.

Bob: Alright. Random announcer guy, tell us the first item for Rich here today.

Guy: Our first item is a collection of tenured assistant coaches, Bob. The entire staff of former Michigan legend Lloyd Carr from coordinators Ron English and Mike DeBord to the strength guy and decades of experience between them. Hail to the victors with these familiar faces.

Bob: Ok, Rich. how many assistants do you want to keep?

(The crowd comes to life, yelling out an assortment of numbers at a frantic pace. Coach Rod, once again consulting the wife, holds up what appears to be a combination of 5 and 7. It may be sign language. Satisfied with his decision he leans in to Bob's microphone.)

Rod: Zero, Bob! WHOOO!

Bob: Let's see how you did, Rich.

(The cliffhanger climbs his craggly peak, yodeling along his merry way.)


Cliffhanger: Yodelyodely yodley yodley yodely yo de yodley....

Bob: Oh, that's not a good start, Rich! Not a good start at all! Looks like the gentlemen thought you should have kept all of those Michigan men, and that's too bad, Rich. Now, you're going to have to do better on the next item, or else you're just going to dig yourself deeper, and we don't want that, do we Rich?

Rod: No way, Bob!

Bob: No way, indeed, Rich! Now let's hope you'll have better luck with the next item from Guy.

Guy: Our second item today are an assortment junior college transfers, Bob. JUCO brand junior college transfers have been known across the country to provide quick fixes to new and old coaches alike. Whether installing a new offense or defense, or just looking to keep your career rolling, look no further than JUCO brand transfers. JUCO! Because you can!

(Again, the crowd erupts in an orgy of vicarious opinion. Coach Rod once again consults the mob for their input, nods to himself, and turns to Bob for his answer.)

Rod: I think I'm going to shoot for nine, here Bob!

Bob: Nine?

Rod: Yeah, Bob. I'm sure on this one. I don't want to make the same mistake twice.

Bob: Are you sure?

Rod: Yeah, definitely sure.

Bob: Alrighty.

Cliffhanger: Yodelyodely yodley yodley yodely yo de yodley....


Bob: Oh noooooooooooo, Rich.

Rod: SON OF A BITCH!

Bob: That's not the number we needed, Rich. We needed a low number! We needed a low number! Zero would have likely been best! It seems we've got ourselves into quite a jam here.

Rod: It certainly sucks, Bob.

Bob: Yes, it does. But, the good news is that you've still got a chance on our last item. Guy?

Guy: Our last items today are a pile of Letters of Intent. 2008 Letters of Intent from a perennially stout Michigan recruiting class. Well into the teens, this crop of potential Midwestern talent would do well for any program hoping to compete on a national stage.

Bob: Now, Rich. We're going to ask you to do something a little bit different here, so listen carefully. How many of those letters do you think you can keep? How many of those letters do you think you can keep?

(The crowd bursts into opinion one last time. Coach Rod is in a frenzy. His eyes darting all around the crowd for the correct answer. He finally settles on ignoring them all together and motions to Bob confirm in his answer.)

Rod: All of them Bob.

Bob: All of them is not a number, Rich.

Rod: I don't care! ALL OF THEM!

Bob: I don't know about this. I'm going to have to ask the gentlemen for a ruling. Gentlemen, can we accept "All of Them?"

(A car horn blares over the PA, signaling approval of the answer.)

Bob: Ok

Cliffhanger: Yodelyodely yodley yodley yodely yo de yodley....

Bob: Oh no....Oh dear. This doesn't look good for you Rich.


Rod: AW HAYSTACKS!

(A trombone plays the well known Price is Right theme in a minor key, as is its wont. Coach Rod has lost.)

Bob: Cheer up, Rich. We'll see you right after these words to spin the Wheel of Death.

FireMarkMay watches too much daytime television.

Return to Sneakyness

By Broderick West Quinnsington IV
Local Ne'er Do Well

BWAH-HAHAHAHAAH! NYAH-HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Just when you think I had been long forgotten, swept off into the ether of old news, I return, triumphantly to expose my deception, trickery, and other forms of dastardly derring-do! Most of my work has been done in secret this year, as my efforts have focused on revenge against those who spurn true talent! How else does one believe the Miami Dolphins could be so horrible in the face of mind-numbing parity in the professional leagues? No matter! But, I will suggest everyone take a look at the iron-cladness of Cam Cameron's contract, not to mention which mustache-twirling notary public has aided in sealing the fate of the franchise.

ENOUGH! Let us get back to the business at hand. Long has my trickeration been absent from these halls. Oh, how they echo with the howls of agony and the cruelty of past defeats. I only wish I could have been around more this season, but it seems I had been undercut by other less expensive forms of chaos. All of these upsets seemed to go on unaided by my own hand, but I would like to take some credit in pioneering the evil footballing arts. So, without further adieu, get me some interns to wheel in my Wheel of Death! Interns? Anyone? Hello? Fiddlesticks, Ill just do it myself...damn it all! Look at what they've done to you, my precious wheel, all dusty and what not, and it seems Mr. Alberts may have used you as a water closet at some point. Let's clean you up....

BEHOLD THE WHEEL OF DEATH!!!!!!!

Tremble at the sight of it! My glorious wheel has spun and spun, leaving the whole of the BCS system in upheaval! Revel in the fetid stench of corruption as this bowl season gives us such feats of despondence!


The Fat Man, in all of his corpulence, graces this year's BCS despite losing to once top-ranked Missouri and having a pitiful strength of schedule! Sure, Mizzou lost last, you might say, but only because they defeated the Jayhawks! Now, they must be exiled to the lesser bowls, unable to reap in the benefits of national exposure, despite being ranked higher in the BCS! Clearly, the largesse of Mangino has perswadded blazer-clad organizers that Kansas is a larger draw than Missouri. Be conpuzzled by the thought! This leaves Missouri in the long-forgotten Cotton Bowl against....

THE CERTIFIABLE HOUSTON NUTT! At least we think. The man known only as crazier than a sack full of weasels makes my black heart smile with his duplicity. He will possibly lead his Arkansas Razorbacks in Dallas, but one thinks what could have been of Mizzou had the cruel BCS not been involved. A good showing might have allowed them to back into some kind of champeenship under the old system, now they have no chance at a long shot, and a meaningless exhibition trip to the Texas State Fairgrounds! Extol their cruel fate I shall! Speaking of cruel fate, behold my henchman in the chaos....

The malevolent Wannstache! Only his boorish backyard brawling could deliver the death blow to the noble couchburners of the Appalachias! Their late season stumble contributed to the bubbling cesspool of the final results, and their reward for such failure is a BCS bid, but there is another cruel twist, for they must head to Tempe to face a team that knows it all too well...

The Oklahoma Sooners, out for revenge in the desert, will surely be ready to crush all who oppose them into a fine powder. Pepper their porridge they will, and the remaining allure of biggest non-title matchup will crumble twixt their pestle and mortar, leaving us with the final display of BCS incompetence from none other than the Baron of Incompetence himself!

The coach without a name! The [Fighting Redacted] have stumbled their way into the Rose Bowl, thanks mainly to the embarrassment that is the Michigan Wolverines and the overall bore that a rematch with SC would invite. This leaves the orange-clad neophytes being thrown to the lion's den itself, the granddaddy of them all, the winter home of the Trojan Horde. They are out of their weight class in this one, and I don't think the various wagering houses can devise a line high enough to handicap their fortunes. I wager a whole two pence that at least 5 former Indian chiefs will be torn asunder into little itty-bitty pieces by the end of the fixture!

This leaves us with the relatively unexciting coronation of my favorite familiar, the werewolf with a chained saw for genitalia!
Behold as it is gifted a title match in its own domicile! The darkened skies will foreshadow the coming of thousands upon thousands of local fans that are both raging and of Cajun descent. The unending wails of the Buckeyes shall know no bounds as they are once again humiliated on the largest stage, shaming themselves and their conference once more! So it is written! SO SPINS THE WHEEL OF DEATH!

Broderick West Quinnsington IV is a charlatan of the highest order. His zeppelin is currently in the shop.

Joe Paterno is 8 feet tall if he's an inch.

By Trev Alberts
formerly of ESPN.com

It's only a matter of days before the old man's Nittany Lions probably humble the kid's beloved Fighting Irish in front of 100,000 bloodthirsty Pennsylvanians. So today, the Trev salutes the venerable Coach Paterno with a handful of things you might not know about this learned gentleman, even if he's never seen M*A*S*H until recently.

To Joe Paterno!



Joe Paterno once coached Penn State to a 2 touchdown victory against invading Hessian mercenaries.

In his day, he was quite the ballroom dancer.

Rumors to the instance of him stealing Bear Bryant's hat are decidedly true. He used it to tureen a delicious blue corn gazpacho.

Joe Paterno is a son of a bitch. He strongly opposed the Treaty of Ghent.

He invented the trident. His original name for it was the ass-forker.

His tears are older than cancer.

Joe Paterno once schtupped Helen of Troy.

In 1927, the original production of Show Boat featured the song "Joe Pa's River."

The events of the movie "Yahoo Serious" are loosely based on his time spent in debtor's prison.

Joe Paterno was the last man to walk from Russia to Alaska.

He's actually one-quarter Sumerian. You don't really see a lot of them around.

The Mayans invented zero only after they shut out Joe Paterno. He slaughtered most of them out of spite.

Joe Paterno was a consultant on the hit show "Bonanza." He feels the percussion-heavy theme song used in its later years is a goddamn sellout.

The Bessemer process? Totally his idea. He used to yell at pig iron until it oxidized itself.

If he had his druthers, we'd all be watching football in the intended Latin.


Trev Alberts can probably be seen daily on CSTV. He also observes America's divine right to Canada.

Positional struggles of impending DOOM

By Cerberus
1st circle of the Underworld

From the depths of darkest Hades, I had been summoned by the Dark Lord Saban to devour one Trev Alberts, He who mocked the Dark Lord, commissioning internet implications that the Dark Lord was, for lack of a better word, a poofter. Upon reaching the pre-fab gates of this modern-day cubicle-shaped dominion, I was greeted warmly by a a festering pile of the primordial and handed a nice saucer of warm cream. Although I am lactose intolerant, I enjoyed it immensely as both a token of gratitude and for its dairy delectableness, garnished with some nice coconut shavings, but I digress. Having entered the inner sanctum of the one they call Alberts, I found him boorishly dozing on a fold-a-way cot, still sullied with the stenches of an unsavory evening and senses dulled by such. As wrenching one's soul from their slumber is most unhonorable, I calmly waited like an agile hunter, preparing for my dutiful strike while my prey broke free of his chains of bourbon and rye. The minutes turned to hours, and the hours turned into quite a time stealing afternoon. Busying myself with inspecting his office, I realized that his earthly domain was truly foul, fit to be a country home for myself, a break from the daily toils of Hades for the mere light-hearted masochism of this internet punditry.

Caught unawares in my daydream haze, He who is Trev blindsided me with praise, some informal grooming, and a thorough game of That Which You Call Frisbee. You are a pernicious lot of beggars, thieves, sloths, and other ne'er do wells here, and you shave a fine coconut. Make me a doghouse in the style of He Who Is Snoopy, The Dog Who Walks, and you shall have my services.

Now, with that infernal segued introduction firmly in my past, I bring to you, oh handful of obsessive electronic fanatics, the positional struggles of impending DOOM! Yay, these struggles are sure to tear your carefully crafted predictions asunder. Your hopes and dreams crash upon the rocky crags of uncertainty with every stumble of your alma mater. Look, thee, into the abyss. (As is your heathen custom, I tip my proverbial hat to Rivals.com)


Southern Cal running back: CJ Gable, Chauncey Washington, Emanuel Moody, and Joe McKnight-
The unending list of touted running talent knows no bounds in Heritage Hall. In truth, the list is infinite, as the position is truly a Hydra. Strike down one back, and two spring up in his place, an endless cycle of controversy. On and on, the mobius strip of pain and HB Wham shall turn, and a silver poodle shall yip wildly in the blackest of the moonless nights over Englewood. The bodies of the also-rans shall rise so high, the clamoring for playing time so intense, eventually the fields will run red with blood, as practices cull the weak. Unfortunately, the surviving victors shall be horribly stricken in the melees, unable to perform. SO IT IS WRITTEN! DOOM! DOOM UNTO THEM!


Notre Dame Quarterback: Evan Sharpley, Demetrius Jones, and Jimmy Clausen-
A truly biblical struggle as the entire Fighting Irish team is shrouded in mystery this season. The guise of rebuilding clouds all judgment, and the always enigmatic offense of the obese robotic man further muddles the picture. Each man has a unique skill package that completely transforms the team's identity, from dual-threat madness to austere pocket efficiency, causing all outcomes to be both possible, yet impossible. The howls from South Bend following every practice report will fall deaf to the unending screams of horror should the first anointed QB fail to complete the slightest check-down. The dust will settle, and their false messiah will arrive with the sound of a trumpet, signifying the end time of unimaginable DOOM! AS REVEALED IN THE DARK HYMNALS AND TAKEOUT MENUS OF THE DAMNED! DOOM!


Colorado Quarterback: Bernard Jackson, Cody Hawkins, and Nick Nelson-
Another three-headed beast of the two-deep, and the festering evil within warms my cold black heart forged from the blackest, coldest obsidian, in the depths of the Underworld's reputed glass-blowing district on 7th street. A program radically shifting schemes like the sands of time in the vortex of the never ending abyss of the hereafter, the noble Buffaloes search for a leader of a faceless army. The visor-clad hordes shield their identities, until one imminent day the coach puts his kid in under center. The silent moans of the Colorado faithful ring throughout the mountain time zone like the din of an unexpectdly adorable demonic hummingbird. DO NOT IGNORE ITS HUMMING OMENS! DOOMY DOOM DOOM RINGS IN THE HALLS OF THE MOUNTAIN KINGS!


Florida State Seminoles Quarterback: Drew Weatherford, Xavier Lee, and Christian Ponder-
More controversy of the quarterbacking variety, as the Seminoles have been long cursed with the spectors of these men's prospects hovering over them like a lucid telemarketer calling in the middle of the night. The wrong number of pain and devastation begat to all on the....excuse me, I lost my place...woe unto the truth-listerner type who mishears the clarion call of the all-knowing Bowden patriarch, bumfuzzling his way into the decision that molds his program's fortune. An endless enigma of athleticism versus efficiency wrestles to be wrestled upon within each of the upcoming warrior spirits, but they must choose from the breakfast offerings of their ancestors wisely, as they must not choose improperly. A poor choice is not part of a balance breakfast! DOOM TO THOSE SIDING WITHOUT BREAKFAST SANDWICH! DOOM UNTO THE UNACCOMPANIED HASH BROWN! DOOM! DOOM! DOOM!

Cerberus is the hellhound guardian of Hades. He's a huge Snoopy fan.

Posted with comment

We try to keep our soapbox locked securely in Trev's office, as he tends to use it only for imaginary soapbox derbies and as a dais for the occasional stuffed animal military rally. However, I feel that from time to time I need to borrow it from under the nose of Bloo's bedazzling arts and crafts time to say a few words about my beloved Fighting Irish. I feel that its use in such ludicrous circumstances is warranted.

Kevin White, Athletic Director of the University of Notre Dame, continues to embarrass the storied tradition of Notre Dame Football until it is nothing more than a glorified traveling circus. There is no substance to his recent actions, from corporate sellouts to jumbotron inquiries to playing Wazzou in the middle of Texas, other than sheer revenue-whoring. This practice should be considered an insult to every Irish fan, pure exploitation of our football history.

More learned Notre Dame enthusiasts have carefully constructed this argument much better than myself, so I will direct you to the fine people at ND Nation and Blue Gray Sky to learn more.

That said, all future references to Mr. White's hair-brained schemes shall be made under the assumption that he is, in fact, flash-toon pioneer, Homestar Runner.

Notre Dame AD Kevin White, sponsored by Adidas.

For further review, I present the classic short "Thing in a Bag" as a metaphor for Kevin White's savvy negotiating of the college football landscape.

*Update-We've pushed the flash movie off of the site. You can still watch it at Homestarrunner.com at this link.

Thank you for your time. We now return to our regularly scheduled general referencing and ramblings.

-irishoutsider

Prepare the list

By Trev Alberts
formerly of ESPN.com

Begin the stockpiling of provisions! The media room must be filled to capacity for the long trials that await us. Kid, get thee to the nearest GameStop and don't tarry! Interns, begin the compiling while I run throught the checklist in handy blogged bullet format:

• (1) Copy of NCAA Football 2008 for Xbox 360
• Nerdy headset for interactive Trev-bashing
• Side of beef, slow-roasting for (12) hours on open flame
• Hot sauce
• (2) bottles of Barenjager, chilled
• Copies of Phil Steele's College Football 2007, the unofficial strategy guide
• Sparks
• rechargeable batteries
• adult diapers
  
• intertubes set to tonight's Steele packed edition of EDSBS Live
• individually wrapped moist towelettes
  
• pine bench for non-playing spectators
• ship-in-bottle kits to pass time
• whiteboard for perpetual dynasty mapping

That about covers it. Our fearless editor will be most likely rejiggering his beloved Irish roster and playbook into some kind of crazy Wishbone-spread hybrid whatsit, so he'll likely be bringing his own knifewrench for TD celebrations. (Demetrius Jones: 83 OVR, 88 SPD, 92 THP, 84 THA, what! -IO)



Trev Alberts is a current CSTV blogging type guy. He enjoys the smoky flavor of mesquite

MGoBlog predicts Blisstonia for 2007 Irish

Brian of MGoBlog fame has made a rather apt comparison in his responses to our bootleg roundtable:

"Notre Dame fans could, with only a little prodding, end up building Charlie Weis a spaceship so he can fly them to salvation."

Charlie Weis, ND's own Robot Genius, the center of Robot Catholicism, the rock that the molder rejected, does bear a striking resembelance to The Simpsons' cult leader, The Leader, of the Movementarians. We Fark, You Decide.


-irishoutsider

Roll Trev Roll!

By Trev Alberts
formerly of ESPN.com

The glory of Trev knows no bounds, interweb! In just a scant 14 months, we've hit six figures on the odometer! Hell to the yes! Hell yes, I say! 100,000 visitors to this monument to college football, me, Sparks malt beverage, Kool-Aid, me, Epcot, and more college football!

I have to give thanks to the blogging community at large, you all know who you are. But, more importantly, you all know who I am. Every cult following needs a cult leader, so thank you for letting me be your High Holy Grand Wizard of the 33rd Level of the Trev. Furthermore, this site would be nothing without the painstaking care, maintenance, and sobering presence of the kid. The next time I throw a whiskey bottle at your head, Irish, I'll try to miss, but just the one time.

Lastly, most recent handslapping goes to the fine, fine fans of the Alabama Crimson Tide. What can I say? It was just a random rundown in the middle of June, but thanks for believing in me. Basically, I just wanted an excuse to post this. Enjoy.



Trev Alberts is an honorary merchant marine. He knows that the Kirby Silver Surfer is the only true Surfer.

Gather round my blog table!

By Trev Alberts
formerly of ESPN.com

I've taken so much from the blogosphere community that I think it's high time I take something more! Behold, the first of what I hope will be a lengthy series of Trev-fueled round tables. This is an open invite to all of my friends and soon-to-be followers on the interweb. Let's have some fun discussing whatever topics the old bean came up with after a long night of liquid inspiration. Summer is for creativity, so let's fire it up now and keep the momentum rolling right on through to Labor Day. The niche T-shirts will flow like wine coolers!

I'm going to put on my patented Trev thinking helmet while assuming the role of Quizmaster. As I will be in an inquisitional trance for the duration of the composition, I'm going to ask that my lovely assistant, the kid, field the brilliance that is soon to come forthwith.

Multiple bloggers? Give me an effing reference!

Your Home Field Advantage

Give the more zealous portion of your fanbase a religion. What's this cult following? Feel free to give the splitters a derogatory nickname.

Considering the Robot Catholics (HT: Marco) are more a creation of this site than anything else, I'll have to answer with the more tangible, yet equally zealous Notre Dame traditionalists, the plaid panters, the Latin massers, or the anti-(Jumbo) Tronites. These folks are vehemently opposed to any kind of progress, even if theres a possibility of tastefully done progress (however unlikely). To these passionate old salts, Notre Dame isn't broke, so don't fix it. Green jerseys, dance squads, outdoor pep rallies, anything that isn't exactly how it was "in my days" (read 1915-1950, 1966-1979) is a blight on the entire college game and the cause for our recent struggles. These are the types who have violent allergic reactions to second-tier bowl games, and I'm with them on that when it comes to the "city" of Jacksonville, but all in all their passions, while noble, always seem to be slightly misdirected.

Your biggest rival is in town, and College Gameday is coming....to your citaaaaaaay... Create a blatant corporate sellout promotion to appeal to the mass unwashed.

This one is easy. Large foam papal hats sponsored by the Congregation of the Holy Cross. If these are deemed too offensive, I will also accept giant foam Crusader swords sponsored by The Home Depot. I would like to avoid Chick-Fil-A inspired foam at all costs.

Add one local delicacy to your stadium's concessions. Post-tax pricing is optional.

CJ's Pub, home of the world's greatest burger, has taken to exporting their meatnormous "pubs" to the local chain of Martin's supermarkets, both being within a mile of the stadium. Import cases upon cases of these delectable half-pounders to the stadium, and feel free to pop a bunch of pre-made swissburgers in the concession warmers: nine American dollars. For an added touch of local flavor, place a freestanding grill cart on the north concourse cooking pubs to order with a variety of traditional condiments including Canadian bacon, various olives, onions, and a selection of cheeses from throughout the land: nine to twelve dollars depending on levels of deliciousness.

With an unlimited AD budget, add or subtract one thing to your school's gameday experience that has nothing to do with football.

Pep rallies are officially moved back to Stepan Center until the approved demolition of said dilapidated fieldhouse. Students only with a TV feed to the rest of the masses at the Joyce Center. A general atmosphere of youthful furor shall be encouraged and/or shown a blind eye as hordes of students filled with Irish "spirits" raise the roof without having to concern themselves with playing nice for the older set. No fancy celebrities or motivational speakers, just thirty minutes of sweat, screaming, marching bands, and the occasional word from a team member saying something along the lines of "Tonight, we play Beanville. Tonight, we beat Beanville."

General NCAA questions

Coin a hilariously unrealistic stereotype that you would like to "make stick" for this upcoming season.

All of the Florida State coaching staff is currently living in a four-bedroom condo in Del Boca Vista. Outside of their regular footballing activities, Bobby, Chuck, and Jimbo all enjoy playing bridge, attending senior mixers, grabbing Early Bird specials, and dealing with the foibles of their silver years. Later in the season, a cantankerous Betty White will move in to play Amato's lovable Italian mother. Hilarity ensues.

Redesign your conference or independent schedule with reckless abandon. Be prepared to include compensation for jilted schools and conferences in your explanation.

Every conference is getting a championship game, come hell or high water. Let's forget about the strawman of student-athlete concerns and go straight to admitting we're all in this for the money.

Starting with the Big XII: TCU and Arkansas are in, bringing everyone closer to the old SWC days. Rice, SMU, and Houston would come along for the ride as well, but since they feature heavily in the regions non-conference games, I didn't worry about messing things up for everyone else. Iowa State and Missouri are out.

Out to the Big Ten, which loses Penn State, and is realigned to two conferences. Iowa, ISU, Mizzou, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois to the West with Northwestern, Indiana, Purdue, Michigan, MSU, and Ohio State to the East...give or take an Illinois.

Penn State hooks up with Pitt and WVU in the Big East, adding Marshall and Memphis to the mix for backyard brawling fun. Unfortunately, the largest sacrifice is Louisville to the SEC. A split basketball/football arrangement may be made for appeasement.

Louisville, now in the SEC East, bumps Georgia to the SEC West. The World's Largest Jacksonville based outdoor coke orgy and alcohol exposition remains intact.

Out West, BYU and Utah link up with the new PAC-12 as the MWC, WAC, and C-USA realign the remains.

The MAC is surprisingly blemish free to continue their up and coming mid-major ways.

Following up on your new realignment, blow up the BCS and devise a national playoff system, money grabs and missed exams be damned. Using your new fantasy conferences is optional.

Traditional bowl alignments are reinstated with the exception of a rotating "plus-one playoff" circus gracing each of the traditional sites once every four years. The new Final Four will play a day-night double header at the home site on New Years Day, with a national final to be played the following weekend, creating a two-week festival surrounding four games. Keeping the traditional bowl matchups intact, an additional bowl game will be played at a nearby alternate site. For example, on the Rose Bowl's turn, the national semifinals would be played at the LA Coliseum (finals at the Rose Bowl) while the PAC-10/Big Ten granddaddy would still be played in Pasadena.

This would be last year's bowls based on the new system, bowls that lose a top 4 team may select any eligible at-large, automatic berths apply:

Rose Bowl: Southern Cal vs. Wisconsin or at-large
Fiesta Bowl: OU vs. at-large (At Univ. of Phoenix Stadium)
Orange Bowl: ACC vs. at-large
Sugar Bowl: Arkansas or at-large vs. at-large

Semi-finals: OSU vs LSU (At Univ. of Phoenix Stadium), Florida vs. Michigan (at Sun-Devil Stadium)
Finals at Univ. of Phoenix Stadium

"Alternate sites" for other title game sites could include the LA Coliseum, Death Valley, and Dolphins Stadium

Elect one public figure to replace NCAA president Myles Brand. Anyone with proper name recognition is eligible.

FireMarkMay.com would like to nominate soon to be retired Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling. The man certainly takes no guff from anyone, would shoot straight through the bullshit and start cracking some university president skulls. We are confident he would run on a trust-busting , student-athlete liberation platform, and since he is already proficient in the ways of Everquest and the blogverse, we know he will always have an ear to the tubes.


So, there you have it. Get the creative juices bubbling and lets stir up some manufactured controversy! It's only a matter of time before we start messing with NCAA 2008 all nimbly-pimbly, so fire it up internet! All I ask is that you link back to the pure Trev source in your responses so the kid can tally up any new blogs we don't have on the blogroll. Feel free to contact the editor if you'd like to drop him a line.

Trev Alberts is a former ESPN commentator. They never let him on The Sports Reporters, but that's ok, because he never wanted to be on their stupid show anyway. Bob Ryan has old man stink.

8-bit analysis: NCAA Punch-Out!

By Trev Alberts
formerly of ESPN.com

It has been a relatively laid back week here at the compound, full of relaxed attitudes towards work and a general malaise onset by the past weekend's barely average servings of collegiate football. Time around the office was well spent procrastinating in all of the various varieties of this vice, the least of which is firing up our editor's old Nintendo Entertainment System (NES). The old girl still worked like a charm, allowing us to Contra Code and RC Pro-Am to our heart's content while ignoring all responsibilities to our professional tasks and/or livers. in the midst of the hurly-burly of the low-res splendor, I realized that one of the greatest cartridges of all bore a striking similarity to the bare-knuckle fistfight that is the annual national title chase. So, without further ado, a tip of the cap to the pioneers of this oft-used blogging mainstay, and onward to another arbitrary comparison column!














Glass Joe-Illinois head coach[name redacted]:
Every game has a doormat, and in college football, that doormat is currently Illinois. Like Glass Joe, [name redacted]'s teams are easily predictable and go down quick, a mere afterthought on the schedule. MSU not withstanding, anyone who even gets knocked down by a [name redacted] team should just stop playing. The Spartans have already stopped playing, so this rule is already in effect.










Von Kaiser-Purdue's Joe Tiller:
One must only look at their elegant moustaches to see the resemblance. Considerably trickier than the previous opponent, but still fodder to the savvy fighter. Their trademark nose neighbors tip off their every move, subtly twitching before each strike. Repeated viewings of Purdue game tape reveal Coach Tiller's tendency to bristle his pushbroom before each and every designed pass.










Don Flamenco-tOSU's Jim Tressel:
A truly deceptive opponent that wears you down as the fight goes on. You'll find yourself completely drained of stamina trying to take them down, forced to perfectly counter their extremely sound fundamentals. Just when you think you've got Ohio State figured out, Coach Tressel changes up his gameplan and completely catches you unaware, just like his World Circuit likeness.









King Hippo-KU's Mark Mangino:
This is clearly shooting fish in a barrel. The Mangino and King Hippo are so alike, you may start conspiracy theories that they may actually be the same person. The Jayhawks pack a mighty punch, just like their coach, and at first, are extremely difficult to figure out. If you've done your homework, perhaps read a few issues of Nintendo Power, you'll be able to expose The Hippo's weakness, causing him to fall uncontrollably to the mat. Once down, Hippo rarely, if ever, gets back up.









Great Tiger-Auburn's Tommy Tuberville:
Not only is there the whole Tiger thing, but you have to admit the uncanny similarities. While Tuberville's playbook does not have anything remotely as deceptive as the infamous Tiger Punch, he is still remarkably sneaky and unpredictable in his own right. Sure, everything is usually the same right hook to the mouth, but you're usually too off balance from the surrounding shenanigans to see it coming. If Tommy wore a turban, it would probably blink whenever he called the HB's number.









Bald Bull-The Orgeron!:
Like the Bull Rush, you all saw this one coming a mile away. The size, the stature, the temper, The Orgeron! is Bald Bull. He may not be from Istanbul, Turkey, we're still checking on that, but charging rhino that is The Orgeron! draws his fair share of comparisons, mainly involving that trademark finishing move. If you see it coming, you know exactly what to do, and its an easy KO. For many lesser opponents, too bad Ole Miss doesn't have many this year, it can be too much to handle. For the rest of us, its a matter of staying alive until The Orgeron! screws up...and even if you get knocked around, a good fighter has plenty of continues saved up to get past him.









Super Macho Man-Chuck "The Chest" Amato
I'm probably overrating Coach Amato at this point, placing him at the #1 contender slot, but I'm sure he's used to it. Super Macho Man, like The Chest, focuses on intimidating his opponent with his tremendous size and stature. Anyone remember playing him? He's freaking huge! Attempting to do the same with his trademark pectorals, Chuck has yet to find similar success and may always wind up second-best despite all of his posturing.










Mike Tyson-Maurice Clarett:
Last but not least, Maurice Clarett, prisoner #007-373-5963. The career arcs of the former college star and the heavyweight phenom are oddly similar, except Iron Mike never ran from the cops while wearing a bulletproof vest. There is no doubt in my mind that, had Mike had access to such an arsenal in the 80s, he would have been the pioneer of the crazy police chase long before OJ bought his Bronco. The sum amount of the talent wasted by these two is incalculable, but at least we have one of the sweetest Nintendo games ever to commemorate Mike Tyson's brand of crazy. Here's hoping Mo gets one of those evil-supervillain tattoos over his eye.


Trev Alberts is currently roaming the squared circle for CSTV. He could never figure out why Little Mac trained in a pink sweatsuit.