As witnessed in the past week of crazed Turrets-stricken, bipolar tweets and the latest revelation of Bin Laden's whereabouts presented by Chip Brown of Orangebloods.com, it's fair to say that college football fans everywhere are emotionally unstable and should probably be quarantined until all of the 2015 schedules are released.
Technology has been courting you since the Gutenberg Bible and now has your mom calling to tell you that the hot boy from her class of '72 just posted something on her Facebook wall about God destroying New Orleans with a big storm. There's even a video of a dude saying so. But while the lines of electronic communication pump 20 to 25 million tons of bullshit through the web, the reader is presented with a few options: 1) swim through the raw sewage of Mangino table scraps in the equipment shed and try to pick out the goods, 2) you never learned how to swim, much less through shit, so you plug your nose and hope you swallow some of the vitamin-enriched greens that must be in there somewhere, or 3) sit back and enjoy your HungryMan until this washes over with something resembling legitimacy.
We haven't had to wait for answers, however foul they smell, since say, 1995. When the Southwest Conference imploded, you didn't know the gritty details, such as Ann Richards' fondness for orange toilet paper, much less anything behind the scenes of Stanford's objection to the University of Texas' application to join the Pac-10. Sure, speculation was there, and newspapers did a damn good job keeping you posted on the drastic hourly changes at least once a day, but to some extent, we all had to wait and look back one day to find out what really happened. Just imagine how crazy and unproductive the workday of the average college sports fans everywhere would have been if we had buzz reporters and your smart ass13-year-old sending little pieces of rabbit poop to your iPhone as the eventual formation of the Big XII conference unfolded. Even if it were only over the course of a week or so, I'm sure you would have heard some crazy rumors about creepy cephalopods, or like, mega-conferences or something.
Tidbits of info were flying across your desk the past 10 days in mass quantities that you feared would be the holy grail of Longhorn tarot cards that if not immediately retweeted would escape your grasp quicker than a laptop-toting Masoli (fear not: Masolis not as sneaky as once thought). Yes, I'm looking at you. This conference expansion has consumed your every waking hour and we can thank your obsession for a projected
twelve eleven ten percent decline in this month's productivity. Really, thanks jackass.
Confession: we are all one big dysfunctional family in this cluster f--- together. It is true, I am guilty too. At various points in the past week and a half - or several months, really - we have theorized or heard theories on the following (in no particular order): Texas to the Big Ten, Texas to the Pac-10, Texas going independent, Texas to the SEC, Big XII expansion, Pac-10 expansion, Big Ten expansion, SEC expansion, UT/OU/OSU/A&M/TTU/CU to Pac-10, A&M to SEC, Utah to Pac-10, NU to Big Ten, Mizzou to Big Ten, Baylor to MWC, BYU/AF to Big XII, and A&M to Mexico. Many of these seemed far fetched until it circulated enough times to smell less like Lubbock for us to consider it possible, or even true.
Technology is cool. It is helpful, educational and dead sexy in the right context, yet it's only a matter of minutes before we indulge ourselves as the reader like a fat kid and his cake. Fat kid sees cake, wants cake, likes taste of cake, wants more cake, wants some of your cake, eats your cake, wants west coast cake next time. But really, fat kid loves cookie more. Unfortunately, this particular chubby pre-adolescent was not aware you had cookies. Nor did he know that your cookies were bigger than him. So, the fat kid's
athletic director mommy shows him the cake, says "Mmm, that cake looks good doesn't it?", puts cake back in box and hands fat kid and his plump, but slightly slender friends a HUGE-ASS WHITE CHOCOLATE MACADAMIA NUT COOKIE WITH SPRINKLES. Fat kid posse throws tantrum and sulks in corner for a few days, blaming each other for the lack of cake, until one of the children says, "Oh look, cookies."
My guilt runs deep as a fan that craves better opportunity and, more specifically, anything that resembles a playoff in college football. As the idea of joining the Pac-10 became more of an apparent reality, I became giddy with excitement for a few reasons, but mostly because I liked the idea of Texas leading the way in the creation of America's first mega-conference. As the anticipation built to climax, we got the news that the Big XII would remain intact with only ten teams and immediately many, if not most of us fell into a deep depression. The fact that Dan Beebe took a conference that everyone had pronounced dead and not only salvaged the rivalries within it, but doubled the TV revenue for just about all its members was indeed still something of a let down. We heard there would be cake. What is this cookie bullshit?
But now I'm wondering how this would all feel if we never heard anything about Larry Scott's invitations or his 18-hour magical mystery tour of the Big XII. What if all we knew was that Colorado joined the Pac-10 and Nebraska the Big Ten? Then, as we're sitting around wondering what happens next, Dan Beebe announces to those left, "Hey guys, since those two left, I put together a deal with these big TV guys who want to give all of you a shitload of money. And Texas, since we would all be f---ed without you, you can have your very own network. Would you like that?" The other guys would have been all like, "Hey, not fair, how come Texas always gets everyt- ...nevermind, I'll take the money." Meanwhile, we, or at least I would have been all like, "Wow, I can't believe that just happened."
Finally, as I reflect on my own neurotic emotional train wreck of The Great Conference Expansion Letdown of 2010, I begin to wonder what else I don't know. It's evident that Dan Beebe managed to put together a miracle and the conference he held together is now richer as a result. What else does he have up his sleeve? Well, I'm glad you asked. My sources (I have none) have told me (no they haven't) that the Big Twelven changes have gone exactly as planned. A very highly ranked Texas official has informed me (very false, but go with me here) that Dan Beebe has met with the the remaining ten athletic directors and asked one simple question: Why should Larry Scott be the guy that builds a mega-conference? Texas is the center of the conference and maybe the entire country on a geographic, athletic, academic and financial level. An official statement is scheduled for Wednesday morning (not that I know of) in which Beebe will announce plans to expand in the next 6-12 months (sound familiar?).
Larry Scott is impressed and offers Big XII to be his wingman. Of course, Dan Beebe can only have one response:
It should be noted that Val Kilmer is currently unemployed.