Texas vs Arkansas
- Thread starter BattleshipTexas
- Start date
Looking at the CWS lineup I can't see a single team I would even consider pulling for. The field just looks so boring, no team to really peak my interest. All the teams in it have all been there at least once since 2013 or 2014 I believe. I like a good Cinderella story like when Coastal won it or when we won our first year.
Battleship, a little off topic. Why would Texas have a fake baseball field? It can’t be a money issue. Field turf for baseball is unamerican!!!
Other than the one annoying fan that the cameras gave way too much attention too, I can't find too much to dislike about Arkansas. A gritty team and I guess I'd be fine them winning over the likes of Miss St. or UF (or any other team).
No real expectation one way or the other.
No real expectation one way or the other.
I will root for SEC but i expect Texas to win, I was the first vote in that one!
My question if Clemens hits a HR and mocks certain Arkansas fans we have mocked on here, then what happens to this board?
My question if Clemens hits a HR and mocks certain Arkansas fans we have mocked on here, then what happens to this board?
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It looks to me like it will be Oregon State. They look like the most complete team.
All I know is I'm proud as a PeaCock of our guys. Arkansas is too much of a baseball team for Texas.
I don't particularly care. Are you a Gamecocks fan at all? Every post I see relates back to Texas
I asked some knowledgeable people that. Both Coach Augie and Coach Gustafason before him liked small ball baseball. Good fielding, fast running and lots of doubles and singles hitters. Rather than relying on home runs and power hitters. A fast surface may be advantageous for that style. I don't know if the surface dictated who we recruited or the surface stayed because of the style of teams we had. The two go hand in hand.
We have a new coach this year and no one is sure of his preferences. We also have a new athletic director that we acquired from TCU. He had been very successful there with a small school that doesn't on its face have a lot going for it. But it was always competitive in football and baseball anyway. So the new AD from TCU is said to prefer grass. TCU has the 419 Bermuda grass that I think y'all use. So I wouldn't be surprised to see a change in the next few years. The AD isn't shy about changes, he has already changed a number of significant things. But so far, since Disch-Falk was opened in 1975, it has always been synthetic turf. Half the answers I got when I asked were "because it has always been that way." We have the money, the regular sunshine and the water (the Colorado River flows through UT-Austin property and it has significant water rights.) So if the new AD decides to change, we will. I can see it in the next few years.
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I am a Longhorn fan. I won't claim to be a Gamecock fan, but I like the South Carolina team better than other SEC teams and have some South Carolina friends. I like to discuss college baseball and your fans are more reasonable and knowledgeable than most other fan bases on that subject. I am also a huge fan of Coach Muschamp, we really loved him in Texas and I am sorry he didn't wind up as our coach. Mack Brown just stayed on too long. Does it help if I hate Clemson?
Doesn't hurt
Are you the caller "Cowboy" that used to call Teddy's show to talk Longhorns?
Pulling for Arky. Hognoxious will be there with Roger Clemens looking to steal all the limelight. Roger may get a live interview in the booth but as soon as Hognoxious starts to point at the ump, the camera stays on him.
Doesn't hurt
Are you the caller "Cowboy" that used to call Teddy's show to talk Longhorns?
No, not me. Lots of Longhorns around.
Played River Place, Twin Creeks and Wolfdancer this spring...buddy lives there....I believe Ray Tanner had some UT connections....screw the hogs.
Plus UT had the funniest thread of all time a few years back.
You probably are talking about the Longhorn going to a Nebraska game thread. It was hilarious.
I am not a golfer. I inherited some expensive Ping golf clubs, so feel guilty not using them. Maybe when I retire I will take it up. Those are known as good courses. I grew up next to the Colonial course in Fort Worth.
Texas Tech has fake grass also. I can almost see it but not quite up north but Texas? I can almost live with the fake grass part but the fake dirt card kills me. Ridiculous
No...it was the statue one....The Longhorn football/basketball day was like in 2005 I believe...both hilarious...copied but never duplicated.
YES SIR, this is always encouraged. Besides we may need some of your perspective this fall.
It was 1999
This is a Texas fan back in 1999
A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and the early morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999: Can you relate?????
6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at full_freaking blast
6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunsfel for golf.
7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee_time of the morning)
8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)
8:53 Crack open second beer
8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)
10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for smoooooth 95
10:35 Headed for San Antonio
10:50 Buy three 18packs for pre and post_game festivities
11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we double_back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750 ml plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam
11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees.
11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the s**t out of Nebraska.
11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go f**k himself.
12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. We're on the second floor of a two_story parking garage on the corner (a couple hundred of us). We're hooting and hollering like wildmen. The band doubles back to the street right below us and serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT.
12:25 In the post_serenade serendipity, 50_100 grown men are bumping chests with one another, each and every one of them now secure and certain of the fact that we are going to kick the s**t out of Nebraska.
1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the band doubles back and stops right below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska fight songs. Although somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are going to kick the s**t out of Nebraska.
1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to stuff the "Traveler" and 11cans of beer into my pants.
1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They are taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the st out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play what I now call and will forever be remembered as "Cell_Phone Flop Out." Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska jacs that if he's so confident in his team, he should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: "And not those dang refundable tickets, either! You request those non_refundable, non_transferrable sons_of_bi**es!" He backs down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix, non_refundable and non_transferrable. Price: $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11 beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the pre_game kingdom.
2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and pour my first stiffy.
2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very pi$$ed off at Texas.
3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still talking s**t. I pour another stiffy from the Traveler.
3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety.
3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another Traveler.
4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at halftime, I attempt to revive the classic Brice_ism from the South Bend bathroom: "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice c**k." He is unamused.
4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to purchase $5 Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch of pu****s.
4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants.
5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field.
5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non_refundable and non_transferrable."
5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the fk didn't you announce last call over the fking PA system??!!"
5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts.
"Whazzis?," I mutter, awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo stopped to take a gargantuan s*it all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the "Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty.
6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off_color remarks about their parentage, but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State for the national championship.
6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the 8:00 Texas_Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care.
7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store. I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the frig.
7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care.
8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck_mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play on its own. I tell him to f**k off and restart "Neon Moon."
8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a f***ing tent here. He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly.
8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're going to kick the s**t out of Arizona.
9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Bernice." There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice c**k." No one is amused but me.
9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center, much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: "Where did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no s**t): "Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light.
9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing.
10:09 Texas is being sc**ed by the refs. I am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to f*k off.
10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst f**king call I have EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one_quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, "I'm taking this a bit too seriously."
10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops.
10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on my body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20 seconds by a good samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and keep moving.
10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the parking garage. I walk up six flights of stairs, promise that when I see my friend I will punch him in the face for making me walk up six flights of stairs, find the truck, and collapse in a heap in the of the bed of the truck. I look around and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I take a nap.
11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver's seat. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my friend a "Stupid c******ker."
11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c*******er."
11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c*****cker."
11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c*****cker."
11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the parking facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street below. My friend looks at me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn around and pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to "Neon Moon."
12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two beers. I am happy. I return to my vehicle.
12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We make our way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of him. We are all going to die tonight.
12:59 We have finished three_quarters of the bottle of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at PollyEsther's. Ed has to pee. He walks down the hall to our apartment and directly into the full length mirror at the end of the hall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther's.
1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably at our efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says in between his fits of spastic laughter, "I've been working this door for almost a year. I've been working doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can honestly say that I ain't never seen three drunker mother f******s than you three. Sorry, can't let you in." We attempt to reason with him. He laughs harder.
1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in the door and hear "Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group and mutter: "See, dat wasn't that fkin' hard. Day don't fkin' do that at the Awamo...the awaom...the alab...f**k it, that stadium we was at today.." We order 6 shots of tequila and three beers.
2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail a cab to take us one and one half blocks to Katz's. The cab fare is $1.60. We give him $10 and tell him to keep it.
2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We are seated immediately.
2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Reuben sandwiches, a hamburger, two cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an order of onion rings.
2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads on the table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every f**ing bit of our food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted. We don't give a f*k. The tab is $112 with tip.
2:46 I'm sleepy.
9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is the bartender at Katz's. She is not pretty.
This is a Texas fan back in 1999
A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and the early morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999: Can you relate?????
6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at full_freaking blast
6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunsfel for golf.
7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee_time of the morning)
8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)
8:53 Crack open second beer
8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)
10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for smoooooth 95
10:35 Headed for San Antonio
10:50 Buy three 18packs for pre and post_game festivities
11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we double_back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750 ml plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam
11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees.
11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the s**t out of Nebraska.
11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go f**k himself.
12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. We're on the second floor of a two_story parking garage on the corner (a couple hundred of us). We're hooting and hollering like wildmen. The band doubles back to the street right below us and serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT.
12:25 In the post_serenade serendipity, 50_100 grown men are bumping chests with one another, each and every one of them now secure and certain of the fact that we are going to kick the s**t out of Nebraska.
1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the band doubles back and stops right below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska fight songs. Although somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are going to kick the s**t out of Nebraska.
1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to stuff the "Traveler" and 11cans of beer into my pants.
1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They are taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the st out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play what I now call and will forever be remembered as "Cell_Phone Flop Out." Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska jacs that if he's so confident in his team, he should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: "And not those dang refundable tickets, either! You request those non_refundable, non_transferrable sons_of_bi**es!" He backs down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix, non_refundable and non_transferrable. Price: $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11 beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the pre_game kingdom.
2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and pour my first stiffy.
2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very pi$$ed off at Texas.
3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still talking s**t. I pour another stiffy from the Traveler.
3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety.
3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another Traveler.
4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at halftime, I attempt to revive the classic Brice_ism from the South Bend bathroom: "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice c**k." He is unamused.
4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to purchase $5 Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch of pu****s.
4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants.
5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field.
5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non_refundable and non_transferrable."
5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the fk didn't you announce last call over the fking PA system??!!"
5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts.
"Whazzis?," I mutter, awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo stopped to take a gargantuan s*it all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the "Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty.
6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off_color remarks about their parentage, but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State for the national championship.
6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the 8:00 Texas_Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care.
7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store. I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the frig.
7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care.
8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck_mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play on its own. I tell him to f**k off and restart "Neon Moon."
8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a f***ing tent here. He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly.
8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're going to kick the s**t out of Arizona.
9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Bernice." There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice c**k." No one is amused but me.
9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center, much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: "Where did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no s**t): "Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light.
9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing.
10:09 Texas is being sc**ed by the refs. I am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to f*k off.
10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst f**king call I have EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one_quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, "I'm taking this a bit too seriously."
10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops.
10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on my body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20 seconds by a good samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and keep moving.
10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the parking garage. I walk up six flights of stairs, promise that when I see my friend I will punch him in the face for making me walk up six flights of stairs, find the truck, and collapse in a heap in the of the bed of the truck. I look around and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I take a nap.
11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver's seat. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my friend a "Stupid c******ker."
11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c*******er."
11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c*****cker."
11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c*****cker."
11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the parking facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street below. My friend looks at me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn around and pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to "Neon Moon."
12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two beers. I am happy. I return to my vehicle.
12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We make our way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of him. We are all going to die tonight.
12:59 We have finished three_quarters of the bottle of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at PollyEsther's. Ed has to pee. He walks down the hall to our apartment and directly into the full length mirror at the end of the hall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther's.
1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably at our efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says in between his fits of spastic laughter, "I've been working this door for almost a year. I've been working doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can honestly say that I ain't never seen three drunker mother f******s than you three. Sorry, can't let you in." We attempt to reason with him. He laughs harder.
1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in the door and hear "Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group and mutter: "See, dat wasn't that fkin' hard. Day don't fkin' do that at the Awamo...the awaom...the alab...f**k it, that stadium we was at today.." We order 6 shots of tequila and three beers.
2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail a cab to take us one and one half blocks to Katz's. The cab fare is $1.60. We give him $10 and tell him to keep it.
2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We are seated immediately.
2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Reuben sandwiches, a hamburger, two cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an order of onion rings.
2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads on the table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every f**ing bit of our food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted. We don't give a f*k. The tab is $112 with tip.
2:46 I'm sleepy.
9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is the bartender at Katz's. She is not pretty.
The best argument for replacing it with grass is that you play on grass at Omaha. So if winning that is your goal you are best off tailoring your team to and practicing on what you will play on in Omaha.
I remember at the time reading this and thinking it might be the single most hilarious message board post I had ever read. It's still a top 10er.
On an unrelated note, South Carolina has some ties to Texas from way back in the day. Samuel Maverick was a real guy and originally from Pendleton, SC. And, William Travis and James Bonham, Alamo heroes, are both native sons.
And that is why I'm pulling for Texas.
That and I do not want any team with a fan who fingerpoints for five minutes to enjoy anything any longer than possible.
oh, and these guys.
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