I am Dre Johnson. And I am the greatest.

I am Andre Johnson
And I am the greatest

I roll out of bed in 4.3 seconds
I am 235 pounds on a bad day

I eat your lunch
I have hands of glue

And in case you missed it
I beat the life out of this fool

I have tape measure pipes
And the right hook of Frazier

I was once confused for Terrell Owens
When I was 20 years old

I made Larry Coker the new Ringo
Ken Dorsey the next Montana

I have speed for days
I have biceps for miles

I am the smoke monster
to your Revis Island

You cannot touch me
You cannot do what I do

I am a Rose Bowl MVP
I am a 2-time All Pro

I am the Big East 100-meter champ
And I am the fastest man on this field

I am a beast
I am a manchild

I go for distance
And I go for speed

I am what you wished for
the first time you ever wished for anything

I’ve got 869 yards in 10 games
I’ve got 869 yards on 1 leg

I know Michael Irvin
I know Robbie Hilson

I am All-America
I am a national champion

I am The U
I am the 305

Got foundations for single moms
But ne’er been single

You can’t see me
Cuz you’re in my dust

You can’t suspend me
Cuz I’m why you tune in

I’m Andre Johnson, foo’
And I am the greatest

Derek Anderson and Reality

Coors Light commercial, much?

Derek Anderson made the news on Monday night, and because he’s Derek Anderson, it wasn’t for outstanding play.

No, as you probably know, Anderson made the news for going off on Kent Somers, the Arizona Cardinals beat writer for the Arizona Republic. Somers questioned Anderson on why he was “caught” by cameras laughing on the sidelines during the fourth quarter of a game that his team was trailing by 18 points.

Not willing to admit that he was laughing because his team is still technically playoff-eligible in the anemic NFC West, Anderson took to making a very confused argument that went something like this.

It’s none of your business… I wasn’t laughing… Maybe I was laughing… No, I wasn’t laughing… I work really hard every week… NOTHING IS FUNNY… I’m going home.

This turns into the typical, modern-day sports story where sportswriters say athletes are jerks, and athletes say that sportswriters don’t understand the sidelines.

In short, I hate these kinds of stories. Mainly because I have a strong distaste for sportswriters who push a little too far and then somehow become symbolic martyrs for their profession. Somers asked the same question somewhere between six and 659 times. A strategy that is fine for a sit-down, in-depth interview. But the kind of thing that will easily piss off an entire press room full of people waiting for their turn to ask a question.

Take it from the guy who once used up the last question of a press conference to ask a guy what kind of boat he owns.

That’s why this post was almost named “Why Nobody Likes Sportswriters, Part II.”

But then I heard Somers’ explanation and it was fair enough. After the screenshot and Jon Gruden mention of Anderson’s sideline exuberance, Somers received tweet after tweet and E-mail after E-mail from miserable Cardinal fans asking why Derek was so damn happy.

Since Somers’ prime audience is obviously Cardinal fans, it was simply his job to give them a little bit of an angry voice in the press conference. He did his job and I honestly felt a tiny bit sorry for the guy when I heard him on ESPN today. Except I didn’t because it was probably his life goal to be on ESPN, but I digress.

After listening to Somers, I felt the need to turn my attention to the fuel behind this entire event. Yes, the fans.

This is where this turns into the most hypocritical post ever. Because, yes Cardinal fans, I am like you. I am loyally bound to my teams through all kinds of sunny and dreary weather. I overreact to everything. Literally everything.

I scream, I pace, I punch couches and throw things. All in the name of games that I have absolutely zero control over. Watching games with me is not fun, and I actually feel a little sympathy for the people who do.

But I know that I am not anywhere close to being alone in all of this. I know that last night there were rabid Cardinal fans absolutely fuming over the sight of their quarterback smiling during defeat. HOW DARE HE!?!?

Well, here’s the thing. Get over it.

The painful fact is that you care about this all so much more than Derek Anderson that it’s not even comparable.

Does Derek Anderson suck? For sure.

Do the Cardinals suck? Certainly.

But you see, Anderson is making a smooth $645k, and you’re getting paid in tears and a growing lack of productive time management. He is living out his dream while your dreams of a Super Bowl rely on him.

Sure, he works hard and he wants to win and he loves being a Cardinal as long as they’re paying him. But that doesn’t mean that the girls in the Phoenix bars give a damn about who won or lost on Monday night. And that’s probably been his life since roughly the fourth grade.

Derek Anderson has it good. If you were living his life, you probably wouldn’t care as much as he does either. In fact, he was probably playing a round of golf in the desert and sipping on an ice-cold beer while you were pulling your hair out at work today over “your” season being over.

So remember, feel free to stay angry, football fans. I’ll be right there with you. But try to understand that your favorite football team is pretty much never going to share your emotions.

-Bryan

Monday Morning Quarterback: A Bitchin’ Post

My gears are grinding

A new feature in which I bitch about EVERYTHING.

Thanksgiving is such a buzzkill for this half of SC – totally at odds with the snarky, d-bag vibe powering this unstoppable train of awesome. Plus, rooting for the ‘Canes and – to a much lesser extent given their lack of U alums, circus of a front office, and overall penchant for embarrassing me – the Dallas Cowboys, one can count on being bated at least once into throwing a leftover turkey sandwich at the 40-inch plasma.

Yes, I have a 40-inch plasma. WHATTAYOU GOT?

Seriously, if Roy Williams is a Cowboy next year, I’m writing a letter of fanhood protest to Jerry Jones, or more probably, permanently adopting the Ravens.

Heart you, Ed.

Also, this Pepto Bismol is not working, which means I have to put up with those DISGUSTING commercials and get NOTHING in return. Really guys, what’s gonna happen if I take this fifth dose in 24-hours? Because UP UNTIL F*CKING NOW, I’ve been swiggin this sh*t like Jack Daniels at a Bryan Holt tailgate.

(*doubles over/crouches in fetal position/quivers in corner*)

Let’s bitch, shall we?

The Problem: Combined Statistics

Are you telling me, ESPN ticker author, you have time to explain ‘Anthony played 3 minutes due to flu-like symptoms in his first game since hitting a buzzer-beating jumper against Chicago on Nov. 27,’ but can’t give me separate stats for Ronnie Brown and Ricky Williams? What does 180 COMBINED yards mean? Because right now I’m assuming a buck 70 for Ricky and 10 for Ronnie. You’re a lazy ass. And you’re killing my Fantasy League high. Here’s the number for Checkers:

(352) 373-2069

Find a job you’re good at.

The Problem: “Clean” Rap Albums

Censored ****

So I bought the new Yeezy record on Monday, and needless to say, it’s one of the dirtiest, sickest, most nauseatingly vulgar things I’ve ever heard in my life (and the best album of the year). Here’s what I don’t get: How the hell can you make sense of this thing when you have to translate entire choruses of “This sh*t is f*cking RIDICULOUS”? HUH? I mean, seriously Disintegrating Major Record Labels, tell me how you adequately replace that line. “This bad stuff makes me UNHAPPY?”

THAT DOESN’T F*CKING RHYME!

Clean Rap Albums, you my friend are responsible for a whole generation of young people with no flow.

The Problem: Lazy Ass Starbucks Employees

This one REALLY grinds my gears, and for my money – my $2.11 – is even more unacceptable than employing Lazy Ass Ticker Authors. I’m a purist. Don’t want any of your Frappacino BS. Don’t want a double soy mocha latte with two Splendas. Just want a freakin cup of regular coffee. AND I WANT YOU TO SERVE IT TO ME IN THE SAME SPOT YOU SERVE ALL THE OTHER DRINKS! Ever noticed that when you get a reg-brew, they hand it to you RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE CASH REGISTER? Great. Now I have to either A) hold up everyone standing behind me or B) cut back through the 20-person deep line when you, Lazy Ass Starbucks Employee, could have walked 10-feet to the left and served my coffee at the counter you SERVE EVERY OTHER PRODUCT. I think next time I might just “accidentally” spill my coffee all over your effin’ cash register. Dumbass.

The Problem: Text Messaging

Some pissed off bro

A beef that could be briefly remedied if I felt like buying an Apple product that’d probably just break in three months anyway. Here’s the deal, I have a crappy phone. But I have this crappy phone for a reason – it fits in my tight pants, stays in said pants when I dance, and DOESN’T HAVE A KEYPAD. HINT FREAKING HINT. Unless you’re one of four specific people, I DON’T WANT TO TEXT YOU. Do you realize how long it takes me to type a coherent sentence on a 10-digit config? Let me give you another hint: a lot f*ckin’ longer if I have to keep starting over to account for the NEXT text message you sent me TWO FREAKING SECONDS AGO. COME ON, MAN! Do you freakin realize how fat my fingertips are? Do you realize that the odds of me hitting the right key is roughly equal to the odds of John Goodman fitting into a Space Mountain car?

Here’s the deal: don’t send me any texts that require a response other than “sure” after 9 p.m. I’m tired. “Iron Chef” is on. I just want to chill. Not have a f*cking G4 heart-to-heart.

The Problem: Jon Gruden

Riiiiiiight.

Don’t ever tease me like that again, as*hole.

The Solutions: NONE

Beautiful day outside! Have an inspired Monday!

- Ball ‘o Joy

My Post-FSU Reaction: Let’s Blow This Up

The Urban Meyer fan club is dwindling.

“Obviously, we’re down a little bit. I didn’t believe we’d be that far down, but we are.” – Urban Meyer

Florida State 31, Florida 7.

I’d say that’s pretty far down no matter how you look at it. Any small inch of honor and pride that Florida Gator football once had is momentarily dead and there are more fingers to point than anyone can fathom.

It used to feel like a birthright to beat FSU. Like Florida was so far ahead of the rest of the state that dominance was a given for years to come. Yeah, that was 12 months ago.

The laundry list is too long to tame, so I’m going to simplify it.

There is not a single assistant coach on this staff that can justify keeping their job after Saturday night. A mass-firing would be far less surprising than the blowout loss to FSU. Honestly, the loss to FSU surprised no one except Meyer and Steve Addazio.

And if you’re wondering if this is just another “Fire Addazio” blog post, then you are completely correct.

After the disaster that was the South Carolina game, Meyer addressed everybody’s question. Addazio has to go, right?

The answer was no because Urban “doesn’t make excuses.” It was just as bone-headed and stubborn as everything else Meyer has uttered this season. The worst season in Gator football since B.S. is all because of player execution, not horrendous coaching. I’m sure that makes high school kids get all tingly inside about coming to Gainesville to play football.

Uh, no thanks. I’ll take the school with the fireworks and the blonde in the sexy indian costume, please.

Addazio has to go and it’s not even an option. If we’ve learned anything in the past two years, it’s that Meyer really has no say over this offense. How else do you explain the offensive game plan doing a 180 from 2008 to 2009?

That revolutionary spread offense that Meyer was touted for. The one that got him the Florida job. Was it really him, or was it actually Dan Mullen?

And with the reins, Addazio has driven Florida football so low that Ron Zook is laughing. Let’s look at some examples:

• At one point early in the fourth quarter while trailing by 24 points, the Gators ran the ball 11 times in a row. All of those came with Trey Burton at QB. You know, our QB that apparently has no passing ability which FSU figured out pretty quick and started loading the box whenever he took the snap.
• The Gators had 64 yards passing against FSU. Now John Brantley hasn’t exactly thrilled anyone this season, but at times it was difficult to remember that he was even on the team Saturday night. The three-QB rotation is nothing more than an excuse for Addazio and Meyer to rid themselves of a player they’ve viewed as a burden all year without completely cutting ties with a guy who has deep UF roots. Either change QBs permanently or try actually fitting your offense to Brantley. Watching him try to awkwardly run the Addazio plan brings back painful memories of 2005 Chris Leak.
• Speaking of the three-QB rotation, it’s ridiculous. It makes the offense even more of a jumbled mess than it already is. For some odd reason, Addazio thought that its success against Vanderbilt and Appalachian State would mean victories against South Carolina and Florida State. This is an idiotic thought by an idiotic man.
• The Gators continue to try to run the rapid Oregon offense even though it is painfully obvious that they have no business doing it. Playing that fast is something that you condition and prepare for over long periods of time, not something you implement at the end of October.
• Down 24 with under nine minutes left in the fourth, the Gators punted on fourth down from midfield. Did they have a chance to win? No, but the sign was clear that the coaching staff had given up. After the game, Meyer made it clear that the season is over. Not if the Liberty Bowl has anything to say about it!

So Addazio needs to at the very least be demoted back to offensive line coach. And the rest of the staff shouldn’t be safe either. This team is undisciplined and unprepared and, to cite Pat Dooley, makes you wonder if they are actually practicing behind those gates.

Yeah, they still have that gator head.

The Gators will tell you that they can fix these problems with recruits. As if the players they have now wern’t once the best recruits in the country. As if a real quarterback wants to come to a school where the offense is patterned after Army. As if a running back wants to come to a place where he might average nine carries per game if he’s lucky. As if anyone wants to play for a team whose coaches give up in a rivalry game.

Saturday night was nothing shy of a program embarrassment. Nothing can be over-exaggerated. It was the kind of night that has to end in firings if for no other reason than to make a statement.

Meyer looked as humble as he probably ever has and swears that he will re-build this program with “tough-ass players and tough-ass coaches.” Hopefully the second part of that line is especially true.

The Meyer tenure has given us some of the best seasons in Gator history, but it has also provided us with its fair share of arduous moments. As far as I’m concerned, this mess could be much more Urban than it is anyone else’s if big changes aren’t made before next spring.

In other words, make cuts or join them in the firing line.

-Bryan

UM’s Next Hire: A Matter of Dollars and Sense

On the precipice of rebirth

Needless to say, I’m overjoyed to see the words “search committee” appear in a sentence that doesn’t describe Randy Shannon trying to recover the deceased career of Jacory Harris.

Well… as “overjoyed” as one can be coming offing a 5-defeat season and a typically brutal loss to instate non-rival USF. Playing in front of cavernous orange and 27,000 recipients of free tickets, the Hurricanes – the team people used to call “The U” until realizing their incompetence – came out flat and proceeded to show little interest in competing against their opponent, let alone defeating them. Hell, Saturday was really no different than most weeks until you realize that this was Senior Day, for both players and their 4-year-tenured head coach.

Randy went out like he came in: arms folded, in silence.

Now the University of Miami, led by more-than-capable President Donna Shalala and AD Kirby Hocutt, have a rare and pivotal opportunity to do away with that silence.

The university’s athletic program, as I’ve written before, stands at the crossroads of stagnation and landscape-shifting shakeup, the latter of which could vault the program back into the ranks of the elite in a matter of months should administrators acknowledge said path as a real option.

If this was an act now commercial, the pitch reads something like this:

A proven, big-name coach with a winning track record takes over a talented (though underdeveloped) crop of players capable of competing for a BCS birth next year.

This coach, should the splash prove big enough, positions your program to steal offseason buzz from a fluky champion like Oregon or TCU that cannot possibly sustain 9-months worth of fawning media coverage given their lack of national notoriety. Miami, like Ohio State, Alabama, USC, Florida and Texas, is still a name brand – a tarnished one, but a name brand nonetheless.

And finally, this coach, should he attack the job with the fervor demanded of such a tenuously decisive moment in time, will provide a swift kick in the rear to a till-now lackluster 2011 recruiting class hinging on Rivals 4-star QB Teddy Bridgewater.

These are the stakes. The stakes are high. And while it is true that no one man can singlehandedly spawn a multimillion dollar football hegemon, it is also true that, in the college ranks, the head coach matters far more than any other individual, either on the field or in the front offices. The examples of immediate, 180-degree turns are many, but one need look no further back than the matrimony of Alabama and Nick Saban, a man who, treated like Jesus upon his arrival to Tuscaloosa, wasted little time resurrecting a depleted, 6-7 squad with an incomparably lofty standard of success.

Saban made the Sugar Bowl in year two. He was a champion by year three.

Miami, surely, is in a different, though no less opportune situation. It does not have the resources of a SEC powerhouse or the generous booster base of a program like Oregon. But to throw one’s hands up and argue this matter is besides the point: Miami is a tiny, private colllege that will likely never compete monetarily with the coin-minting enterprises to its north.

Nor has it ever.

Still, to harp on the financial gap is to overlook the one resource that matters most: talent. Of this, South Florida is an embarrassment of riches, capable of powering multiple state rivals on the basis of snubs and leftovers alone.

Are streamlined stadiums and indoor complexes advantageous? Absolutely. But they are not necessities, not the be-all, end-all. Weight rooms and practice bubbles aren’t what make the University of Miami football program what it is today – a proud, though severely wounded, traditional power with five national titles, a history of interrupted dominance, and the most prolific source of NFL manpower on the planet.

It would be negligent, too, to ignore the issue of competition. The ACC is, in short, a punching bag to be exploited in the near-term, manhandled in the long.

So to those who say the Miami job is not the jewel it used to be, you are correct. To those who say this isn’t a great job, you are delusional – discounting the location, the tradition, the alumni and the plentiful recruiting stock.

I conclude with an appeal to reason that perhaps repositions a former point – that of finances. I am no accountant, but it stands to logic that the revenue generated by 40,000 more attendees per home game would more than compensate for a top-tier coaching salary and perhaps even contribute to things Miami has always considered, unfortunately, tangential – like adequate facilities. What’s more, though the university will never secure financial backing with the ease of its elite competitors, it can certainly create an on-field product more worthy of charity than the one that exists today.

A Miami fan for all of my 24 years, I’ve seen how these vacancies usually work themselves out – with an inside hire or a bland safety pick with former ties to the program. Having heard the Steve Spurrier whispers last go-round, I hold my breath with a skeptic’s optimism and a begrudging acceptance that propositions like Jon Gruden are rumored hearsay at best and flat pipedreams at worst. That said, the University of Miami – the once-mighty Hurricanes – cannot afford at this juncture to settle for anything less than the best available option.

We cannot, like at the turn of the century, wait on another revolution. This time, we must make our own.

- Robbie

A Word About Boise State

Now you know how LeGarrette felt.

We’ll make this quick. The Sports Casualties Bowl© and Florida/Florida State are waiting.

It’s been almost four years since Boise State football trick-played their ways into our lives.

I remember it. You remember it.

We sat on the edge of our living room couches and pulled for the miracle. The upset over Oklahoma in the 2007 Fiesta Bowl got us excited because it’s what we are conditioned to do. There’s something ingrained in our human DNA that makes us love an underdog, and that’s exactly what the Broncos were.

There was the hook-and-lateral and then the touchdown and then the Statue of Liberty two-point conversion to win and then the proposal.

I remember jumping around the room in celebration. The way I did when Landon Donovan scored against Algeria. The way I did when the Gators beat Ohio State. The way I did when Ronde Barber silenced Veterans Stadium.

But yet I sit here today, and – like much of America – I am happy.

Boise State lost last night. It snapped a 24-game win streak, and I sat up till 2 A.M. to soak in every last glorious, nerve-racking second of it.

It was wonderful.

Over the past few years, Boise has gone from the delightful underdog to an American villain on par with Notre Dame and Southern Cal. They’ve become the symbol of a culture war, big conference vs. small. They’ve made people groan at their television sets as people like Lou Holtz and Kirk Herbstreit insist that it’s not their fault they play beyond weak schedules and it shouldn’t be held against them.

I’ve sat through plenty of these 10:15 P.M. Boise kickoffs during that time. All in hopes of seeing the once-feel-good story fall.

Why did we make this transition so quickly? How do you go from thinking the Fiesta Bowl was the best thing ever to despising a team in the matter of a few years?

It’s simple.

With media outlets feasting on the cash mammoth that is college football, underdogs are blown out of proportion. They’re built up until we can’t take it anymore and then we celebrate their downfall.

If I wanted to jump on a personal note, I could tell you about the time the country jumped behind USF as they upset Auburn and West Virginia on their way to a 6-0 start and a No. 2 ranking in 2007. But those same people snarled at the No. 2 ranking and were happy to say “I told you so” when it all fell apart.

We love underdogs until they get too big.

I’ll admit as quick as anyone else that college football is an elitist system, and I thoroughly enjoy being an elitist. It’s why I trash small conferences like the WAC, and why I cheered for Auburn yesterday even though it’s a team that has caused my Gators as much pain as anyone over the years and is led by a guy that should be OUR quarterback right now.

Because I want to see an SEC champion for the fifth year in a row. Even though my team is beyond irrelevant right now, it somehow makes me feel a small sense of victory. And if Auburn can’t be the answer, it at least needs to be because of the OBC.

It’s why we all secretly love the BCS even though most of us will never admit it. The dire importance of the regular season and the never-ending discussion points. The chance to say “You don’t deserve it because you’re below us.”

Boise didn’t do much of anything to make us hate them besides win and suggest that they should be a title contender. But we rejoice nonetheless.

Don’t celebrate for too long. We only have a couple of years to turn the tide on Nevada.

-Bryan

God bless you, Randy… But get lost

A metaphor.

University of Miami head football coach Randy Shannon gave today what sounds to me like the requiem for his college coaching career. Shannon in fact played defense with the kind of purposeful tenacity that might’ve spared him from this quite untenable position had it ever carried over to the locker room, the field, or any of his woefully underachieving football teams.

Even amid the soft-pitch arc of a dozen or so tepid non-questions – Coach, talk about this; Coach, talk about that – Randy Shannon doggedly played up his pros with a series of canned, occasionally accurate talking points which, when you cut through the BS, said one thing loud and clear: yes, I feel the heat.

What unfolded in Tuesday’s press conference, then, was an exercise in framing that deserves serious consideration for future communications theses. And that Shannon had so obviously mulled these responses and still came off as a complete loser – not as a human being, but certainly as a coach – adds to the mounting pile of evidence suggesting he is not fit to run a soup kitchen let alone a prestigious football program.

Coach, how big an impact have injuries made? “Big, a lot, tremendously. We’ve had some injuries across the board. Most teams that win it are probably going to be injury free.”

Coach, have you ever thought about benching junior Travis Benjamin, given his penchant for mental errors and dropped balls? “No. The one thing you don’t do is get down on a young man.”

Coach, what do you make of this senior class? “We had the fight on the football field, the situation with Bryan Pata, academic things going on, a new stadium we had to go to, a lot of adverse situations people were using in recruiting. I wasn’t the head coach at that point in time… We were 5-7, go to second in the Coastal Division. It’s improvement. Now is that where we need to be at Miami? No. But you have to give them a lot of credit in believing in me… If it wasn’t for those guys we wouldn’t be where we’re at today.”

“Where we’re at today” may be aptly characterized as a fork in the road, the paths of which will dictate the near and long-term trajectory of a program that used to be a short time ago among the very best in all of sports. Since the unparalleled deluge of NFL talent filtered out of Coral Gables circa 2004, the Miami Hurricanes have waffled between frustrating mediocrity and complete incompetence with two incapable and overmatched coordinators at the helm.

Shannon’s tenure, though promising in fits and spurts, has been mostly marked by exceptionally inconsistent play, an inability to win big games (or in some cases, even compete), and perhaps most disappointingly, a career-altering failure to develop highly recruited talent.

Lost.

Shannon deserves credit for the battles he’s won on the first week in February, but unfortunately for “The U”, a top-5 class is only as good as the wins it accounts for. Shannon’s touted prospects more times than not waste their eligibility in a dreaded holding pattern of physical and mental stagnation in which the significance of dropped passes and false starts defers to that of seniority, the emphasis on game film and weight training to study halls.

To this latter point, Shannon has done a truly remarkable job at cleaning up a program in danger of relapsing into old ways. There have been no on-field brawls, no off-field murders, nary an arrest. His players graduate, and in a time when the university on the whole has vaulted up the academic rankings, Shannon is at least partially responsible for the improvement. His emphasis on grades proves a refreshing creed, especially when weighed against the hijinks of his upstate rivals.

None of this should obscure his central commission as a head coach: to win football games. At this, Shannon is not good, his near-.500 record not befitting of Miami’s rich tradition.

The options then are these: accept that this experiment has failed and bring in a proven coach with a winning track record – try to right this sinking ship and reclaim a rightful spot among the elite… Or continue to wallow in the ordinary.

I choose the former.

- Robbie
__________
Note: all quotes from the Miami Herald and Rivals.com.

Jamey Johnson: The Guitar Song

Jamey Johnson lives under the black veil of a modern day outlaw. But that might be more out of circumstance than desire.

In a country music industry that continues to shift away from steel guitars and songwriters and more towards boy bands with guitars and pop stars, Johnson doesn’t necessarily fit in. Attending one of his shows is like going to the Opry on a Saturday night… In 1968.

He’s rough and rugged and much more comfortable playing a guitar and singing than he is talking or dancing around a stage.

But he hasn’t necessarily always been this way.

In 2005, Jamey looked like your standard, generic Nashville country music singer. He wore the cowboy hat, the plaid shirt and his first major album cover featured the cheesy “hey guys, this is my CD” picture. He had one single called “The Dollar” that did marginally well on the country charts, but nothing else stuck and Johnson was quickly dropped from his record deal with BNA.

The next few years played out like, well, a country song.

Jamey divorced his wife and moved into a friend’s house. He kept almost entirely to himself. It was during this time that his songwriting took a distinct turn towards darkness. It was also during this time that he began growing out his trademark long hair and beard that has recently reached epic proportions.

First it was songs for other people that came out. There was “Give It Away,” a No. 1 hit for George Strait and “Another Side of You,” a top-20 song for Joe Nichols. Both written by a mentally-confined Jamey Johnson.

Imagine the scene in “Get Rich or Die Tryin’” where 50 Cent gets released from solitary confinement and they find that he has completely covered his cell’s walls in engraved rap lyrics? Well, replace 50 with a 30-year-old white dude and prison with a house in a Nashville suburb and you set the scene.

And that was the birth of a CD.

In 2007, Johnson and his road band, the Kent Hardly Playboys, recorded and produced an album properly titled “That Lonesome Song” without any form of a record label. The album made waves on the Internet, and Jamey and friends were quickly picked up by Mercury Records in 2008, and the CD was released.

Fast forward two years, and Jamey is a mega star. Okay, not really.

While he has come a long ways from his days in a buddy’s basement, Johnson’s sound hasn’t caught on with mainstream country in the way other recent newcomers have. Critics love his genuine sound and the Grammy’s have offered him praise. But in country music, the lines between popularity/notoriety and critical acclaim don’t always intersect.

But Jamey is “ridin’ around and playing country music” which he insists is all he ever wanted. On Sep. 12, he released “The Guitar Song,” a double-disc, 105-minute, 26-second monster of an album that Johnson said he has worked on for four years.

He describes it as a Yin-Yang concept. A “Black Album” that runs through those days of darkness and ends at his lowest point. But then a “White Album” that slowly becomes more positive and depicts his current state.

Now by positive, Jamey means less dark than the black album. Don’t expect any kind of inspirational or cheerful rhetoric.

Johnson said the goal was to make it play out like a movie. I say it plays out like one of the best damn things I’ve ever listened to.

Time to go all Hilson on you and review some music that’s not played by angry teenagers.

BLACK ALBUM

1. Lonely at the Top written by Don Cook, Chick Rains and Keith Whitley

A song heavily led by steel guitars that tells of a country music singer complaining about his life to a regular working man at the bar. The working man of course has no interest in the tedious whining and instead takes advantage of the singer’s bar tab, as any good, blue-blooded American would do. Musically fun opener to warm you up before you go plunging down to the depths of Johnson’s sordid hell.

“Lonely at the Top” is a song originally put together, but never released by Keith Whitley, who died of alcohol poisoning in 1989. It is the first of five covers on “The Guitar Song.”

Favorite Part: “I said ‘would you like a drink?’/He said ‘thanks, I’ll have a double/I’ve worked up a powerful thirst just listenin’ to all your troubles.’”

2. Cover Your Eyes written by Bobby Bare, Wayd Battle and Jamey Johnson

I told you you were about to take a plunge. If most divorces have the on-again, off-again vibe before the final conclusion is made, this is how Johnson talks about his. They’re bouncing between together and apart and it’s clear that it’s more straining than it is rewarding for both. It’s going through the human motions, but maybe it’s best if she doesn’t watch.

Slow build with an eery acoustic riff that picks up for the chorus but still allows Johnson’s insanely painful voice to resonate above all else.

Favorite Part: “Cover your eyes/It can’t hurt forever/Soon I won’t ever cross your mind.”

3. Poor Man Blues written by Jamey Johnson

So is this what happened to Jamey’s wife? The song starts out with the old school vibe that has been heard so many times in country music. Characterizing the selfish rich man that walks all over blue-collar America, all in a classic “talking verse, croaning chorus” style that takes you back to Nashville 30 years ago.

But just when you begin to write it off as a slight cliche, Jamey makes it personal. This rich man wasn’t just firing his friends and invading his honky tonks. He stole the only thing Jamey had. Oh, and this song makes him sound like one scary bastard.

Favorite Part: “Rich man waltzed right into her life/ Swept her off her feet/For all his fame and his fortune/Lord knows I couldn’t compete/When he took her love away from me/I had nothin’ else to lose/So I showed that rich man just what happens/When a poor man gets the blues.”

4. Set ‘Em Up Joe written by Buddy Cannon, Hank Cochran, Dean Dillon and Vern Gosdin

The Black Album hits its second cover fairly early. This one was recorded as a bit of a tribute on the morning that Johnson discovered Vern Gosdin had died. The song itself was a tribute to Ernest Tubb that was Gosdin’s second No. 1 single in 1988. It talks about a man playing the life out of Tubb’s “Walking the Floor Over You” in reaction to his woman leaving.

A catchy track that fits perfectly in Johnson’s chronological thinking.

Favorite Part: “Every day they replace old B24/’Cause every night I run the needle through ‘Walking the Floor.’”

5. Playing the Part written by Jamey Johnson and Shane Minor

In 2007, Johnson was part of a failed Fox reality series called “Nashville.” The show was supposed to depict nine aspiring country music singers. It lasted two weeks and was dropped. Johnson has talked about how much he despised the experience and dealing with the Los Angeles scene during production. So he wrote “Playing the Part.”

It sounds line-danceable, and it’s always fun to take a jab at L.A. This song has been released as the album’s second single.

Favorite Part: “These high-dollar women/And the fame and the fortune/Ain’t worth the ticket I bought.”

Jamey Johnson circa Hollywood.

6. Baby Don’t Cry written by Jamey Johnson and George Teren

Well, when he’s not popping depression pills in Hollywood or threatening to kill rich dudes, Jamey Johnson is of course a loving father. Because “transient songwriter that lives in his friend’s basement” isn’t the best description to have if you want custody, Johnson assures his baby daughter that he is only a phone call away.

It’s all told in a charmed fashion that links numerous traditional bedtime fairy tales. I’m sure this will be a favorite at all outdoor wedding reception father-daughter dances for the next few years.

Favorite Part: “So pretend I’m right there by your side/And we’ll save the princess tonight.”

7. Heaven Bound written by Jamey Johnson

A distraught song from a man at an uninspired phase of his life. This song is a very mild acoustic ballad that almost serves as more of a buffer between two very different installments than it does as a song. It creeps along and gets inside the mind of someone who is beginning to think that Heaven is all they have to look forward to.

Favorite Part: “Sometimes it sure gets cold/In the fall on music row/But it’s worth it/If it gets me by somehow.”

8. Can’t Cash My Checks written by Jason Cope, Jamey Johnson, Shannon Lawson and James Otto

Easily one of my personal favorite songs on either CD. It has all the wit and simple-yet-clever lyrics that bring people to country music in the first place. It’s obviously depicting a hard time but it’s still able to have a little back-handed sarcasm. Starts slow but picks up as it goes, and since it comes after “Heaven Bound,” the slowness is barely even noticed.

There’s also a really cool band-inclusive jam session that stretches it out past the seven-minute mark.

Favorite Part: “It’s so hard to stay honest in a world that’s headed to Hell/You can’t make a good livin’ these days ’cause the truth just won’t sell/So if you go out my back door, just over the hill/You’ll see all these plants that’s been payin’ my bills.”

9. That’s How I Don’t Love You written by Jamey Johnson and Dean Miller

Country music has long been known for its “kiss-off” songs. You know, the song where boy finally gets over girl and writes his “good riddance” composition. Usually these songs are kind of bright and sunny and “I’m so much better without you.” But, well, this is Jamey and he has a different take on it.

So what made you get over her, Jamey?

- Uh, I drank a lot.

Awesome answer. Major blues vibe from the opening guitar lick on until the fuzzy ending. Drink up, heartbroken America.

Favorite Part: “Now I just pour the poison in/And act like it’s my new best friend at night/And I cry/ And that’s how I don’t love you anymore.”

10. Heartache written by Jamey Johnson and Rivers Rutherford

Yes, the subject of heartache has been pretty well-covered on this side of the Yin-Yang. So what’s the difference here? Pretty simple, this song is actually written from the perspective of… Heartache. As far as we know, heartache is not a real, functioning person with objectives, but that doesn’t stop Jamey from making it one.

A really tense song that should transfer well over to radio if promoted right. It makes for an interesting take on songwriting’s favorite topic, and a cool palm-mute/shred guitar mix in the back gives the song a grinding pulse.

Favorite Part: “From Anthony and Cleopatra/Samson and Delilah/To Jackie and JFK/To Elvis and Priscilla/Charles and Diana/I’d say I’ve had some pretty good days.”

11. Mental Revenge written by Mel Tillis

What were we saying about kiss-off songs? This song, which was crafted by Mel Tillis and popularized by Waylon Jennings, fits that category in a prototypical manner. Light-hearted but vengeful, Jamey’s rendition sways along like a bluegrass band at the county fair.

Listen to it twice. It will be stuck in your head all day, and you won’t be mad about it.

Favorite Part: “Well I hope that the train from Caribou, Maine/Runs over your sweet love affair/That you walk the floor from door to door/And pull out the peroxide hair.”

Jamey Johnson circa Now.

12. Even the Skies Are Blue written by Jamey Johnson and River Rutherford

Jamey says this song is as low as you can go and as low as he did. My response? Uh, thank God because this might be the most downtrodden, hopeless message ever conveyed in a song. Basically the message here is that the world is in terrible shape. There’s wars, divorce and the abandonement of faith. And even on the occasional day when it’s sunny and bright outside, all that it tells us is that God is crying because even the sky is blue.

It’s brilliant writing and it comes off completely raw and stoic. But this is the one song in this whole thing that just crosses a bit of a line for me. It’s one of the only things in the case that I can’t listen to over and over again. And I think that’s a credit to what Jamey is actually trying to do here. This is the jumping off point before things pick up on the White Album.

Every turn-around has the bottom moment and maybe that realization is why this song is a little more difficult to listen to than the rest.

Favorite Part: “These are hard days/Heavy old hard days/Dead string guitar days/And the Devil is picking his tune.”

WHITE ALBUM

1. By the Seat of Your Pants written by Wayd Battle, Carson Chamberlin and Teddy Gentry

One of only two non-cover songs on the album that Johnson did not at least co-write, this one administers the turn-around that comes from looking back on some fatherly advice. It’s nothing real revolutionary, but it provides the needed transition from “Even the Skies are Blue” into the White Album.

A funky steel guitar sequence takes it near the 6:32 mark where you hear something that you never thought you’d get after Black Album intake. Yes, that sound is laughter.

Favorite Part: “He said sometimes huntin’ ain’t all about the kill/Sometimes that woman of your dreams can be a little bit too real.”

2. California Riots written by Jamey Johnson and Lee Thomas Miller

Another candidate of mine for favorite track on the album. “California Riots” basically serves as the sequel to “Playing the Part” but takes on an entirely different demeanor. Where before he was giving up and resorting to drugs to get by, he’s now dropping the pill bottle and leaning on his southern roots. He still doesn’t care too much for the L.A. lifestyle, but he’s now focused on the glimmering fact that he won’t be there for long, and the city is someone else’s problem.

Favorite Part: “All the women here look perfect/And it hardly ever rains/And for some folks here I’m sure it’s paradise/Well I’ll dabble with the fortune/Rub elbows with the fame/But I’ll be damned if this is where I’m gonna die.”

3. Dog in the Yard written by Buddy Cannon and Jamey Johnson

Normally, a man saying that a woman treats him like a “dog in the yard” would probably be a negative statement. But somehow, Johnson finds a way to make it sound pretty damn endearing. This song is straight out of your stereotypical, outskirts of town honky tonk and it works to perfection in that role.

Any woman who ever wanted to know how simple-minded and content a man really is, here’s your evidence.

Favorite Part: “Sometimes you kick at me when I’m down/It drives you crazy when I just lay around/No matter what you do/I think I’ve found the perfect home.”

4. The Guitar Song written by Bill Anderson, Jamey Johnson and Vicky McGehee

Well, we’ve already heard one song written from the perspective of heartache, so it’s obviously time for one written from the perspective of two old guitars hanging on the wall of a pawn shop. Guitar No. 1 is a bit of a show-off that’s shared a stage with Lefty Frizzell, Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash while Guitar No. 2 has a more humble background, playing in smokey bar rooms and “selling a lot of beer.”

The two guitars just might be symbollic of the song’s two primary songwriters. Anderson is a songwriting legend in Nashville who has worked with everyone from Ray Price to Kenny Chesney. Neat piece full of talking that almost serves as a musical skit.

Favorite Part: “But I dream about the spotlight/And the roaring of the people/And I wonder if I’m ever gonna hear ‘em sing along/I’m just a guitar in the pawn shop on the corner/Hey, come on by and listen to my song.”

The Kent Hardly Playboys

5. That’s Why I Write Songs written by Ashley Gorley, Chris DuBois and Jamey Johnson

One of the truly great songs on an album full of great songs. This one is as stripped down and basic as country music will ever get, but it is a sharp description of Johnson’s love affair that he has with his career.

Given four hours (12 A.M. to 4 A.M.) to record the song in Nashville’s historic Ryman Auditorium, the song is one part acoustic guitar, one part Jamey and one part Ryman. With headphones on, you can hear the creaking of the wood floors and the delicate distortion of sound in the old building. Johnson likes to think that you can hear the ghosts of country legends that have always been apart of the storied structure.

They just might be singing along.

Favorite Part: “You fell in love or threw it away/You’re looking for the perfect thing to say/You’re no good with words, well that’s okay/That’s why I write songs.”

6. Macon written by Kacey Coppola and Jamey Johnson

“Macon” opens with an awesome piano melody. The kind of piano melody that when you hear it thirty years from now, you’ll immediately think “damn, that’s ‘Macon.’” And it doesn’t let off any from there. The motivation of having someone to come back home to after long days on the road is accented by a background female vocal presence that almost sounds like something you would have heard out of southern rock in the 70s.

It also doesn’t hurt Jamey career-wise that this is one of the more mainstream-friendly installments listed here.

Favorite Part: “Well, my baby says she ain’t crazy ’bout stayin’ home all alone/And the faster I go, the more I know about waitin’ too damn long.”

7. Thankful for the Rain written by Jamey Johnson, Vicky McGehee and David Lee Murphy

Oh, Jamey. You and your metaphors. The storm is a woman that goes back-and-forth on her commitment to our favorite Jesus-looking singer-songwriter. But he’s learning not to mind as he has decided that he doesn’t really care if she’s just barging into town and destroying his neighborhood every couple of days and then leaving. At least he’s getting some action. Or something like that.

He’s back to a creeping guitar track here that goes along with the Black Album sound and some background thunder because the song is about storms. Duh.

Favorite Part: “I know when the morning comes/The truth will rise up like the sun/As I’m cleaning up the damage done/There’s everything I prayed for.”

8. Good Morning Sunrise written by Arliss Albritton

Short and not at all wordy but it tells an intriguing and important story nonetheless. A catchy rhythm leads you through a ballad that plays out like a short film. Like so many other country songs, a man has lost a woman. Unlike so many other songs, he’s taking it out on the dawn.

SC does not officially support binge drinking till sunrise. But it is fun.

Favorite Part: “Last time I saw you, you let me down/I told her by morning, she and I would work things out/Well you took that sky just like she was yours to take/Good morning, sunrise. Guess I’ll call it a day.”

Fresh off a trip to the barber.

9. Front Porch Swing Afternoon written by Buddy Cannon, Jamey Johnson and Larry Shell

Country music singers have used the phrase “I think this song paints a perfect picture of what it’s like growing up in the country” a gabajillion times. They’re usually not correct. But they also didn’t make this song.

This song sounds like your grandma’s house, if your grandma lives out on expansive property hours outside of town and serves candy-sweet iced tea that has a shot of bourbon in it from time to time. If it paints a picture, it paints it in 4-D. Maybe it’s the acoustic guitar playing a bit that manufactures smiles and relaxed spirits, but this one just has a sensational good feel to it.

Favorite Part: “I can hear music from somewhere outside/The faint sound of a Hank Williams tune/I just caught the scent of a blackberry pie/On this old front porch swing afternoon.”

10. I Remember You written by Jamey Johnson and Shane Minor

Traditional country music was always derived at least partially from gospel. So it is fitting that this song finds its way onto the White Album. It’s filed with the kind of piano that sounds like it’s being played in a neighborhood church in the south and it features a conversation with God. And yes, God even sings back with a message that’s not all that different from the one the main character is sending from his shaking knees.

Listening to this, it’s hard to believe that we’re only 20 or so songs removed from death threats, severe depression and drug use.

Favorite Part: “I remember you/I was there when you were born/I held your mamma’s hand and your daddy’s, too/I remember you/I recall the very day you turned against the Devil/And you cried out my name.”

11. Good Times Ain’t What They Used to Be written by Dallas Davidson, Jamey Johnson and Jim McCormick

Hank Williams, Jr., once sang that all of his rowdy friends had settled down. Jamey Johnson speaks from personal experience when he says that it’s a damn good thing that he himself has settled down.

One of the most upbeat and quick tracks you’ll find on either disc, this is probably about as happy as Jamey gets. It’s a message of maturity and a band that can play fast as hell without really sounding like it.

Favorite Part: “And nowadays I dream of an old cane pole/My baby’s sweet tea and my favorite fishin’ hole/I sit down on that bank underneath the shade tree/And I thank God the good times, Lord ain’t what they used to be.”

12. For the Good Times written by Kris Kristofferson

For many songwriters, Kristofferson serves as a gold standard. And rightfully so. Few have ever been able to put together the musical word quite like the man who took up writing songs while at the University of Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship.

And to many, his quintessential song is “For the Good Times” which appeared on his debut album but was made famous by Ray Price who made it a No. 1 hit and the ACM Song of the Year in 1970. Since then, it has been recorded by a plethora of artists that ranges from Al Green and Michael Jackson to Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley.

One of the greatest love or anti-love songs ever written.

Jamey’s rendition is true to the original, and makes Kristofferson’s lyrics sound just as timeless as they were 40 years ago.

Favorite Part: “I’ll get along/You’ll find another/And I’ll be here if you should find you ever need me/Don’t say a word about tomorrow or forever/There’ll be time enough for sadness when you leave me.”

The iconic original.

13. My Way to You written by Jamey Johnson and Charlie Midnight

You know how sometimes when a big movie comes out, the movie’s theme song will make waves a couple months before the film? And then when you’re watching the film, you’re waiting for that song to pop up the entire time and then finally the credits hit and you hear it and it makes so much sense that they waited because it basically sums up what you just spent 100 minutes watching?

Yeah, that’s “My Way to You.”

Released as a single two months before “The Guitar Song” came out, it has a little bit of everything. The low trotting beats, the screaming guitars, a blend of desperate and optimistic lyrics. This is the Spark Notes version of the album. If you don’t have an hour and 45 minutes, you can kind of condense the journey to 5:21 with this. But Jamey’s not going to let you know that until the very end.

Like most of what Jamey does, it deserves more credit than it got. But that just might be why it fits him so well.

A curious aspect of this song is the end. Like many of the songs on “The Guitar Song,” the end of “My Way to You” features a melody that would appear to start a next song. But there of course isn’t one here.

Favorite Part: “There’s been high times/There’s been hard times/And there’s been times I couldn’t tell if I’m living a good life or living a bad life/’Cause I’m always living fast as hell.”

There  it is. Just over 4,100 words later, I think I like this entire set even more than I already did.

If you’ve actually listened along, you probably need a drink.

Here's to happiness.

I’ll join you.

-Bryan

We see you, Tom

We see you, Tom

We see you under the beanie

Beneath the Beiber

Through the glare of rings

We don’t talk about you much

But we know you’re there

You haunt our film rooms

You haunt our dreams

You keep Peyton up at nights

You make ladies swoon

And defensive backs quiver

We see you, Tom

We see you lead

We see you tear down your teammates

Only to build them back up

We know you’ve won 25 straight home starts

We know now that Drew never had a chance

That you were the chosen one all along

That you’re 8 and 4 all-time against the Colts

That you play your best when it matters most

We see you, Tom

We know you have nothing to work with

We don’t confuse Deion for Randy

We saw what you could do with a real receiver

We remember 50 and 8

And we realize now that Peyton’s 4 MVPs

Are only as good as his one Lombardi

We see you, Tom

We watched you decimate the Steelers

We saw that dart you threw to Gronkowski

We whisper behind your back

Speaking in hushed tones

We say, simply

“Damn”

We see you, Tom

We just want you to know we see you

And that we’re not gonna take you for granted anymore

Keep doing what you do, Tom

Because at some point

We’ll all come around

Know for sure

That you’re the greatest that ever was

- Robbie

In Defense of Vince

A one-time superman.

Walk with me a mile in Vince Young’s shoes. It’ll be good for both of us – help us appreciate this 27-year-old’s enigmatic behavior, if not quite understand it.

Vince, you remember, finished his career at Texas as one of the most celebrated individuals in the history of college sports. He exited Austin for a surefire top-10 draft pick and massive paycheck coming off what many agree is the most spectacular performance in football annals.

Here’s the thing: for Vince Young, this was all par for the course – all part of the grand plan. All little stepping stones to fulfilling his destiny.

To being the greatest.

When Vince was 6 – still a little man, but faster than a speeding bullet on two wheels – the future Madison High star crashed his bicycle into a moving van. Metal and asphalt carved out his intestines. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. He spent the next year in the hospital.

Vince said years after the fact that the near-fatal accident shaped the rest of his life – taught him to be humble and thank God for each day. But it also showed him, whether he consciously realized or not, that he was a superman. He could come back from anything. He was created for great things. Not even a bout with death could derail his bright future.

For the next 15 years of his life, everybody told Vince Young, in more words or less, that he was The Man. That he could not be stopped. That he was the best.

He didn’t hear a word of criticism because no critic had solid ground on which to stand. Vince was the best – Big 12 Player of the Year, Rose Bowl MVP, Maxwell and O’Brien recipient, runner-up to a vacated Heisman trophy. His No. 10 hangs proudly in Texas Memorial Stadium.

Of course, things changed when he got to the NFL, but not enough to obscure the fact that Vince Young is one hell of a football player. Faulty mechanics and an average arm didn’t get in the way of what he did best: win baby.

Entering this season, Vince had compiled a 26-13 record as a starter, made the Pro Bowl twice, and as of Sunday, a game in which he was pulled after completing 12 of 16 passes for 165 yards and no interceptions, ranked fifth in the league in passer rating – this after landing the Sporting News comeback player of the year in ’09 for nearly leading a winless Titans team to the playoffs.

For one reason or another, head coach Jeff Fisher, a star in his own right, has rarely been in his quarterback’s corner. Citing lack of work ethic, he’s instead steadfastly backed Vince’s competition, whether grizzled journeymen like Kerry Collins or untested newcomers like Rusty Smith.

Fisher was so anti-Vince just 12 months ago that it took a call from the owner’s box just to get him a shot at reclaiming his starting job for a DOA team. After a 59-0 loss to New England dropped Tennessee to 0-6, Fisher told the media of the Bud Adams-induced QB swap, “It’s a reflection of the team play. I’m still in [Kerry Collins'] corner, but we’ve decided to go ahead and make this change.”

And with that rousing vote of confidence, Vince proceeded to lead the worst team in the league to an 8-2 record, sweeping under the rug a scary occurrence the year before in which he was presumed suicidal after leaving home without his cell.

On Sunday, Vince stormed out on his coaches and his teammates after a third-quarter benching, part the doing of Fisher, part of a gimpy thumb. He won’t play football again for a long time, and when he finally does, probably not for the team that drafted him.

I’d be pissed, too.

Vince Young isn’t a bad guy. Bad guys don’t take Steve McNair’s kids to father-son breakfasts. Bad guys don’t date their high school sweethearts or go back to school after inking many-million dollar contracts.

Everybody’s insisting now Vince is mentally unstable – that he’s a nut, a whackjob, a headcase. Maybe he is. Or maybe he’s just now realizing that he’ll never live the life he was born to live. And that’s gotta hurt like hell.

- Robbie