Where have you gone 54b? Burnt Orange Nation turns its bloodshot eyes to you...
To achieve my dream of becoming the Bobby Fischer of the BON - you know, only blogging at random times with the prowess of a Level 4 Paladin - I purposely stopped posting stories to make my online persona seem more aloof and create some longing from you, the fine readers.
I promised myself I'd only post again when the cries for my return grew deafening and my stalkers were allowed to unionize. So far it's been six months and I've only received one email. It was from site editor and BON Founder Peter Bean. Instead of expressing his concern for my absence, he just wanted to know if I'd checked off chicken or beef on the RSVP for his wedding. Oh, and he asked me to refrain from standing up at the reception and telling the story about the time we went to Tijuana after the Holiday Bowl to sniff some blow off a hooker riding a mechanical burro outside of K-Mart. I don't know why though, It's actually a very sweet story that I'm considering retelling as a parable in my upcoming one-man Ballet Folklorico exhibition called, "Holy Pedro Frijole."
Okay, that's not true. Well, I mean the part about me wanting to be the BON Bobby Fischer. The rest of course is a matter of Baja California public record and contemporary Mexican folklore.
No, if I'm truly sober with myself, which is rare, I think the real reason I haven't posted anything in six months is because the first half of 2010 for Longhorns Athletics has been so unfulfilling. It's basically been the sporting equivalent of trying to pick up a waitress at Hooters...oh don't give me that look, you horny little BONers know damn well what I'm talking about.
You're sitting there at Hooters on that stupid stool with a sh*t eating grin while Little Miss Wing Thing talks dirty to you and practically gives you a lap dance while you're ordering. And despite having a peach-fuzz moustache dripping with bleu cheese, rocking a pair of skinny jorts, and paying with your maxed out Discover card, you still think you're money.
In fact you even bet your dork friends that you can get her phone number. But just when you're full of enough warm beer and partially hydrogenated corporate fascism to ask her for the digits, she sends Franchesco, the Second Assistant Manager and Pro Vespa jockey, over with the check and a coupon for a free cold shower.
Such is life for the average Longhorns fan in 2010.
Still don't know what I'm talking about. Well you will after the jump...
Do you like similes? Yeah, me too. Cuz if it weren't for similes, how would we explain sh*t about sh*t? And let's face it, a lot of sh*t has happened this year, particularly when it comes to our beloved Longhorns.
Let's review shall we...
A Brokenhearted Hallelujah At The MNC - First, we kicked off the new year with our all-time winningest college QB getting knocked out after the 5th play of the National Freaking Championship. Yeah, that happened.
Then we watched breathlessly for almost four quarters as the Horns fought back to within striking distance of a seemingly sputtering Alabama Crimson Tide team that actually looked beatable for a second. But then our QB To Be Named Later gave us a sneak preview of the feel bad movie of the year, The Blind Side, and Bama rolled us like a doobie, smoking our asses the rest of the way.
You know it was like...mortgaging yourself to the hilt to afford your dream house only to find out it had black mold shortly after moving in, but then finding a winning lottery ticket only to realize it had to be cashed in Afghanistan. Good times.
B-Ball Is All Hat, No Longhorns - Next up, our highly touted basketball team featuring three standout Freshmen reached #1 in the AP rankings midway through the season as delusions of grandeur danced in our heads. Just when we thought thing couldn't get any better, they showed us what happens when Millennials get their fragile egos bruised by a coach who doesn't award points for second place or trophies and gold stars for simply showing up.
We all thought we were going back to the Final Four, maybe even win it all. Instead, we got on board the Purgatory Express, actually lost to Baylor three times, and went home after the first song at the Dance to cry to our mommies.
You know it was like...finding out the puppy you recued from the Pound simply for companionship was actually a pure bred show dog, then investing tons of money for training only to discover slowly over time that the dog had authority issues and sh*t himself whenever he had to perform in front of crowd.
Baseball Has Just Enough Gas Left To Drive Off A Cliff - Not to be left out of the "pity-ful party, our baseball team waltzed through the regular season damn near winning every game and earning a #2 seed in the CWS playoffs only to find out that there was another Texas team even hornier to blow out the candles on Rosenblatt Stadium.
With plane reservations to Omaha in hand, Longhorns fans couldn't believe their eyes as the season ended rather unceremoniously in the Super Regionals and at home no less.
You know it was like...being a little kid who proudly goes 3 straight months without wetting the bed only to crap the bed the night before Christmas with all the grandparents and extended family present for the occasion.
Red Rover, Red Rover, Let Dan Beebe Bend Over - Not long after the Big 10 threatened expansion early this year, the rumor mill switched gears to ludicrous speed giving Chip Brown extra bounce in his Jheri Curl and the last laugh on the Dallas Morning News. Thanks to his "connections" he churned out stories speculating that the Longhorns would leave the Big XII to join every conference from the Pac 10 to the NFC East. Only a funny thing happened on the way to the podium and Big XII commissioner Dan Beebe happily informed the sports world that they could kiss his ass, kiss my ass, kiss Texas' ass and have a Happy Summer Solstice.
Not only was Texas staying put in new Big XII minus II, but Dan was also happy to report that Baylor had agreed to put the butter knife down and back off their threat to go independent signing an exclusive TV deal with the Christian Television Network (though it's been reported that Pat Robertson will retain duties as inside linebackers coach).
Anyway, this whole sordid conference realignment affair has been one big circle jerk.
You know it was like...going to the hospital for a penis enlargement and coming out with a breast reduction. Sure, it was nice to get rid of two boobs (CU Later and the The Osborne Identity Crisis) but it still feels like something's missing you know? And somehow I don't think an annual clash with Iowa State is going to fill the void.
On another note, please feel free to join me on my final pilgrimage to Lincoln this fall to pat Big Red on the head and remind them not to let the door hit them where the good Lord split them on the way out of the Big XII. You know I really used to like the Cornhuskers fans until they got a hard on for Texas and turned into Aggie-Lite.
And speaking of Farm Aid...
A&M Makes Eyes At The SEC - I'm sure you all recall the recent viral voicemail message from one very perturbed Bill Byrne that made its way around the Interwebs. On it Bill expressed his displeasure to a blogger whom allegedly emailed to ask what kind of dressing goes best with a Tossed Deloss Salad. Apparently the embattled Aggie Athletic Director had received several messages from Agro Separatists who were upset that A&M, also known as, "The Ewe," had passed up the opportunity to escape the prodigal son's shadow and share their love of animal husbandry and cousin-lovin with the SEC.
Of course A&M threatening to go to the SEC was like..your codependent roommate from freshman year - the one you got by accident in the dorm lottery - threatening to move in with the role playing dice dorks down the hall if you didn't curb your drunken whoring ways.
Seriously, if we no longer played A&M, would you miss them? Would ya really? (That was a rhetorical question for you Beergut.)
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, trying to pick up a Hooters waitress. Got close in 2010 but no cigar. Next year let's hope UT Athletics goes to Buffalo Wild Wings. I hear their waitresses have emotionally unavailable fathers and aren't as picky.
Ah, only one more month to football season. You know, it feels like the Novocain wearing off long before the dentist finishes the root canal.
You guys be good,
Author of the popular children's book, "Mommy Cries Vodka"
PS. BTW, on my last trip through Love Field in Dallas, I stopped by the newsstand and signed all the unsold copies of the Eyes Of Texas preview guide because 54b really does want you to "Have a Bitchin' Summer" and I figured you could ask the lady at the register to take $5 off because the mag is now technically damaged goods. You can thank me never.