Tostitos Championship

I thought the Fiesta Bowl was the Tostitos Bowl, but apparently this one is, too. Did you ever wonder why pretty much every tortilla chip by local and obscure companies all are pretty good, as well as similar to each other, and then you have Tostitos, which just really suck, but they probably sell more than any of the others? There’s got to be another reason besides that they spend more on advertising and store placement. Or maybe there isn’t another reason.

I admit I’m in a bad mood. It’s one thing not putting the countless bowl games on TV, but the national championship? It’s like the Superbowl or the World Series not being on TV! I have to look for updates on the internet... how depressing. I feel like Randle Patrick McMurphy when they won’t let the patients watch the World Series, in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The NCAA plus ESPN equals Nurse Ratched.

Maybe I should just try to be well-adjusted and watch what’s on. Again it’s the thin Brett Favre and countless blond women with weird jawlines. More winter sports on the sports channel. And again, some TV show with Tim Roth. I just shouldn’t let that bug me. If one day Tim Roth got hired where I work, in the mailroom, for $9 an hour, and I was training him... I really think that would disturb me. I’d say, well Tim, I’m going to show you how to do the FedEx’s now. But can I call you Mr. Orange?

I’m wondering now, could it be a conspiracy to get football fans to watch the NFL more? But how would that work? It would have to be at the NCAA’s expense. But somebody here, some slimeball, is filling their pockets. You don’t have a huge event on TV year after year, with massive ratings and all, and then suddenly NOT have it on TV, unless someone is benefiting. Well, anyway, that’s it for me. No NCAA football for at least a decade, because I hold a grudge. I could watch other sports, I guess. I could watch the NFL, but I don’t know—I just find it so boring. It’s like watching a bunch of meatheads crushing beer cans with monster trucks.

Not being able to see these two top-rated college teams in the last game of the year, it’s probably a good time to mention how I don’t buy it as a national championship game anyway. For one thing, TCU would beat either of these teams. So would Boise State. But we’re supposed to believe that one team has superiority over another because of their height and weight and how fast they run a 40 yard dash? I designed an intricate diagram for a playoff system for 16 teams, in which the top-rated 8 would start out with a bye, but then that whole system seemed too sissified, and I changed my mind about that. I think there should be 64 teams in the playoff. End the regular season a week early and go right into the playoff. You could call it December Madness, or maybe something more catchy and original.

Okay, I’ve just about had enough. Trying to write about a sporting event I can’t even watch. What am I supposed to do, rush out and buy CABLE, like a good little victim? No, I’m not going to, and I’m not going to watch NCAA football anymore, or NCAA anything, or sports, any sports, for that matter. And I quit this stupid job, too. Glad I got paid in advance. Thanks, Tony. I’ll keep the money, for my aggravation.

New Names for Big Ten Divisions R Us!

You have no doubt heard by now that the proposed names for the Big Ten’s two new six team divisions, “Legends” and “Leaders” has been met with overwhelming and universal loathing, to say the least. Not so much because it makes little sense which teams would be designated as each, or because of the fear that Legends wouldn’t be seen as Leaders and Leaders wouldn’t be considered Legends, but because those names are about as subtle as a drunk and clunky as a bad excuse. Or maybe you like them. Read no further, and crack open another peach schnapps wine cooler.

Big Ten commissioner Jim Delany, in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, has announced that his office will reconsider the names (in what must be seen as an effort to hold onto incensed, vomiting fan revenue in these harsh economic times) (and amidst the increasing popularity of soccer). In an unprecedented move, the powers that be have admitted their lameness and opened the floodgates to tens of thousands of beer-fueled, sports-bar composed emails and text message suggestions for alternative names for the divisions in question. Unsurprisingly, most are worse than the original sorry attempt. However, a few quality outfits like The Moss Problem have agreed to set up polls featuring some of the better suggestions kicking around the airwaves. The Big Ten promises to take notice and “let the people speak.” It’s a lot cheaper than hiring Wieden+Kennedy.

Here is a sampling of the top 16 candidates, which incidentally is the number of teams that will be in the Big Ten by the end of the next decade. Please note: in a brilliant twist on the rivalry concept, some division names are comprised of a “positive” name (Wheat Division) and a “negative” name (Chaff Division)—the idea being that the winner each year will “capture” the positive name for its division for the following year—sticking the losing team’s division with the embarrassing one.

Kings
Emperors

Dorks
Nerds

Dictators
Strongmen

Crips
Bloods

Red States
Blue States

Corn Division
Soybean Division

Pork Division
Beef Division

Bo’s Bastards
Woody’s Wackos

Wheat Division
Chaff Division

Walter Camp Division
Walter Mitty Division

Jim Thorpe Division
Duane Thorpe Division

Joy Division
Pansy Division

Ghoulardi Football Division
Ruggle’s Beat Division

Nike Division
Adidas Division

Freedom Division
Economy Division

Great Plains Division
Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments Division

Why I Love (Touchdown) Jesus

In case it’s not obvious, that title is meant to be sarcastic. I love Jesus, okay? But I am not a fan of the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, because as a college football fan without cable TV or ESPN, I’ve been forced to endure their crappy teams and boring games week after week on broadcast TV for years, while the games I wanted to see were not shown. But then, when a journalist has to start out by pointing out his sarcasm, she can’t really complain about “crappy.” I’d advise you to stop reading this right now and do something more productive!

The final play of the Texas Nebraska game—Colt McCoy loses his mind, takes way too long and sails the ball out of bounds, really wanting that touchdown, but settling on setting up a field goal—but he’s taken too long—the game is over—Nebraska wins! Except then they did a review, and because the ball hit a railing—on someone’s condo or something—rich people bullshit encroaching the field—rather than sailing harmlessly to the ground—they decided the clock should stop at that point, and put a second on the clock—time enough for Texas to kick a game winning field goal. It’s kind of like those situations in baseball where an outfielder is going to catch a ball, and a fan reaches out of the stands and catches it first. I’ve heard they’re considering, in struggling markets, setting up some four star restaurant tables right in the outfield so wealthy fans can have dinner there and further interfere with the game. You couldn’t really do that with football, but what’s with this “official review” madness? What’s next? Why not have an official video review after every single play in football? The game can last 12 hours, and there will be plenty of room for commercials.

Why is this important, really? Because if they didn’t do the review, or that structure wasn’t there, and the ball hits the ground, Nebraska wins the game, and Texas doesn’t go to the National Championship game. Instead, Cincinnati rightly goes to the championship game, and Brian Kelly, instead of taking the Notre Dame job, stays at Cincinnati. Bob Stoops takes the Notre Dame coaching job, and they go 3 and 9, 6 and 6, and 4 and 8 in the next three years before he’s fired and then Brian Kelly eventually gets the Notre Dame job. The Touchdown Jesus works in mysterious ways.