Well OK then. In Orlando, the Clemson Tigers absolutely demolished Oklahoma to the tune of 40-6. The boomer Sooners were given the see ya later treatment. A good old-fashioned ass-whupping. This happened in the Athletic Cup Bowl, or something like that. You know there's too many bowl games when the only thing they can figure out to name one is "Athletic". I mean, what's next? The Nerd Bowl or the Spaz Bowl featuring brainy, but twitchy guys whose teams finished last in their conferences?
But back to Clemson. They have/had the #1 college football defense in the country. Being #1 at anything is pretty impressive. I'll have you know I'm the #1 ranked Oakland Press sports blogger on my entire block. Further, I have the power to truly, and literally move people with my words. When I took up residence years ago and started chatting up the neighbors, for sale signs started popped up in front yards everywhere. Eat your heart out, Bob Costas. Lightweight.
Getting a little off track here. Sorry. Where was I? Clemson. Right.
To be the #1 defense in the country means a team can not only stuff the run, but shut down passing attacks as well. They guard everything.
Apparently even their own coach. They assigned a tall beefy guy (300 poundish) to follow behind the coach on the sidelines, to ensure he didn't run on to the field. And lord knows, he kept trying, only to be repeatedly hauled back by the brute that was shadowing him. Yours truly never did know what "graduate assistants" actually do to earn their keep, but maybe this is an example.
Yet it leaves one to wonder -- what was it with this coach that he needs a hulkster to prevent him from going onto the field of play? Does he have that little self control?
As the cameras repeatedly zoomed in on him, it became apparent the Clemson coach was far beyond your typical hyper. Besides talking into his headset and pacing the sidelines motor-mouthing to others, he kept flailing his arms like the late Joe Cocker, contorting his face into expressions that would have shamed even Steve Spurrier, and chewing gum at roughly 300 chomps per minute. This guy doesn't need a Mr. Beefy holding him back . He needs meds. Serious ones. If one can imagine combining the personality of Barney Fife with a murderer on the loose in Mayberry and after taking a couple hits of "engage maximum warp drive Scottie" type speed -- well -- that's what the Clemson coach came off as. Sure, like the good deputy, he's a little guy and harmless enough, but good grief, there comes a time to chill and get a grip. If it requires heavy doses of pharmaceuticals, so be it.
[Idle thought. Yet another passenger plane went down over an Asian sea without a trace. That ought to keep the CNN yappy heads and their merry band of "experts" busy for another month or so. Remember the last one several months ago? They still haven't found it, but CNN's ratings went up as they talked about things they were clueless about, week after week. Something was wrong with that picture.]
Besides, behemoths like Mr. Beefy could be put to better use elsewhere. I dare say guys like Ray Rice and Adrien Petersen could have benefited if a 300 pounder had been shadowing them to keep them from doing something rash.
And think of the possibilities elsewhere in the NFL. Station a couple beef-steaks on every sideline. Not necessarily to hold back out of control coaches, though it wouldn't hurt. But they could fill a more crucial role. We've seen instances of cheap shot artists on the field attempting to hurt opposing players with stomps and the like. Sometimes they get fined or even suspended, and that's a good thing.
But when they eventually return to the sidelines and are standing there complaining and acting like they did nothing wrong -- have a fellow 300 pounder walk up behind them and deliver a thundering kick to their athletic cup. Appeal THAT.
And on the subject of Athletic Cup, I think that's where I came in...