A Week In Headlines

Lazy Asses Crawl Out of Bed, Protest Tuition Hike

Headlines for the Week Ending December 11, 2010.

Meyer, Citing Family, Plans Permanent Ski Vacation in Rockies [LINK]

Gators AD Foley Experiences What Experts Call “Brain Fart” [LINK]

Time Magazine Mum on Reasons Behind SC Best Blog Snub [LINK]

Lennon Dead for 10,957 Straight Days [LINK]

Holt Classes End, Busch Light Sales Spike [LINK]

>>> Related: Holt Foregoes Senior Year To Spend More Time With Meyer Daughters [LINK]

AA in Hand, Kyle Rancourt Ushers in New Era at WSU [LINK]

Spurs, Heat, Mavs Decide Against Losing [LINK]

At UF, Tuition Rises for Underachievers [LINK]

Miami Considers Golden, Edsall, Folding D— Between Legs [LINK]

Larry King Interviews Angelina Jolie as Piers Morgan, Vultures Wait in Wings [LINK]

New Tobacco Study Confirms Smoking Bad [LINK]

President Extends Tax Cuts for Self Amid Concerns of Pending Layoff [LINK]

Colts’ Manning Proves He’s Still Viable Option at Quarterback [LINK]

Josh McDaniels Unemployment Rate Hits 100 Percent [LINK]

Bin Laden Marks 10th Anniversary of Watching Army-Navy from Cave [LINK]

Duchess Camilla Undermined by Rioters, Lack of Constitutional Authority [LINK]

Market Jumps As Secretary Geithner Passes Kidney Stone [LINK]

Crawford Signs for $3 Million Per 2010 Stolen Base [LINK]

UN Hosts Climate Change Talks in Air Conditioned Room [LINK]

Professor Cleary Threatens Hilson’s 18-Year ‘A’ Streak [LINK]

Rap Publication Pitchfork.com Yet To Retract Kanye 10.0 [LINK]

James, Moore, Luck to Attend Newton Victory Party [LINK]

Heat’s Spoelstra Deflects Claims He Is Genius [LINK]

Nationals GM Rizzo Makes Walk of Shame [LINK]

‘Cablegate’ Latest ‘Gate’ No One Will Remember 6 Months From Now [LINK]

Scientific Community Heralds NASA Discovery as “Bullshit” [LINK]

Duke Freshman Kyrie Irving Stubs Toe on Way to NBA [LINK]

Jury Still Out on Whether Mullen Is Liar [LINK]

A Community Torn As Bloggers Feud [LINK]

A Community Healed As Blogger Drunk-Texts Blogger [LINK]

UConn Lady Huskies Something Something Something [LINK]

Pats Coach Says QB’s Hair Not A Factor in 42-point Victory [LINK]

Billy Corgan to Release Zwan Box Set Within Four Years, Maybe, If He Feels Like It [LINK]

Terri Hilson Celebrates 40th Birthday for 12th Consecutive December

New Iron Chef Reps Sports Casualties, Ana(b)log Music [LINK]

Qatar, Pronounced ‘Cutter’, Succeeds Sam Bowie as Next Sam Bowie [LINK]

‘Goof a Chalupa’ Confirmed Greatest Mad Lib Phrase Ever [LINK]

(Credit: nubbybeanieslut225 and macncheeseluvver007)

F—— Hipsters Spotted In Target Parking Lot [LINK]

>>> Related: Authentic Alt Laments The ‘Targbro’  [FULL STORY TRANSCRIBED BELOW] more »

December is the Greatest Month Ever

Look who's here to help celebrate.

The tree is up and decorated, some lights are on the house and it’s official. December is the greatest month in the history of great months.

Think about it. The only mildly acceptable argument against this statement is that it’s cold outside. Except even that isn’t good enough because everyone knows that you secretly love getting to wear all those awesome warm clothes you’ve had stacked up in your closet all year. I’m especially talking to you, Florida people.

In small doses, the cold means many other great things that more than make up for your inconveniences. Now it’s time to tell you why December would kick the ass of an other month if months could fight.

Cue the bullet points.

• Christmas is the upper echelon of all holidays and it isn’t even close. When you’re a little kid, Christmas means Christmas morning and nothing else. But as you grow up, you’re like “wow,” there’s this entire deal that lasts all month that’s even way cooler than Christmas day. I’ll explain.
• People are inexplicably nicer around Christmas time. Of course you can stop by my house to get a closer look at my Christmas lights, complete strangers wandering the neighborhood. Would you like a beer? I even almost gave money to a homeless person yesterday. Not really, but I did refrain from lashing profanities at him when he got too close to my window.
• Everyone’s house smells like Christmas trees, aka the greatest smell in the world. I don’t even mind helping set-up the tree because it makes your hands smell like Christmas for the rest of the night and that is a fantastic reward.
• I love Christmas movies, Christmas music, Christmas specials. Make fun of me. I don’t care.
• Eggnog and Jack Daniels. No, Mom. I have to drink whiskey tonight. It’s Christmasey and festive and the way Baby Jesus would have wanted it.
• College football, obviously. For anyone who has ever said that bowl games should be completely scrapped in favor of a playoff, you’re stupid. Yes, I enjoy watching the 1-AA FCS playoffs, but I also like that 1-AFBS does its own thing. Bowl games are awesome. I watch all of them, even the crappy ones, and I blame this completely on ESPN’s Bowl Mania which is the most addicting thing this side of fantasy football. Seriously, sign up. You’ll be yelling at your television and ripping out your hair over SMU and Toledo games. Damn you, TicketCity Bowl!
• College football, obviously. Now I’m talking about the storylines, not the games. The holiday season is always filled with great “Whose going to coach where?” drama, and this year is certainly no different.
• The NFL regular season is in its final stretch. Cold weather games. Blizzards, controversy, chaos.
• Plenty of “best moments of the year” shows that give you an opportunity to get all nostalgic.
• Bonfires. Seriously, the only thing more fun than drinking is drinking next to a fire. LOOK HOW MUCH HIGHER THE FIRE GOES WHEN I THROW IN THREE EMPTY CASES OF BUDWEISER!
• Coffee drinkers always freak out over October when they can get all kinds of pumpkin deals in their coffee. But December means peppermint which means your fruity coffee will taste good AND your breath will smell delightful.
• New Year’s Eve.
• Cheerleaders in Santa Claus outfits.

• The Army-Navy Game, which I am currently watching. One of the greatest atmospheres in sports and one of the few times when a game transcends standings or relevance.
• Spring Break is too short, Summer Break either gets too long and boring or isn’t really a break at all. Christmas Break is just right.
• The greatest Christmas song ever.

-Bryan

Goodbye Room

goodbye, stick-it-2-the-man beard

goodbye, life lessons

goodbye, fave office mate

goodbye, co-workers

goodbye, plasticwear/power cables

goodbye, poison ivy

goodbye, creepy photo ops

goodbye, amber waves of grain

goodbye, work

goodbye, elevated chill spot

goodbye, motivational technique

goodbye, confidential files

goodbye, god

goodbye, 1978

goodbye, pre-facebook self-help guide

goodbye, art

goodbye, Tiger Woods impersonation

goodbye, something 2 aspire 2

goodbye, spacious corridor

goodbye, window 2 world

goodbye, 2nd fave screensaver

goodbye, fave screensaver

goodbye, weapons

goodbye, office parties

goodbye, makeshift snowboard

goodbye, playtime

goodbye, late afternoon snack

goodbye, lonely lil' stool

goodbye, big blue arrow

i have 2 go now

it's been real

My Letter to Urban Meyer

Taking his toys and going, uh, to another job.

Yes, again.

Dear Urban Meyer,

J-School teaches us to start off nice, so I would like to thank you for all that you have done.

You were the head coach for two SEC titles, two national freaking championships and helped lead one of the most talented teams in college football history to a Sugar Bowl victory over Cincinnati. OK, maybe that last thing wasn’t a compliment.

But regardless, for a few years, you reigned over a team that was the face of college football and that’s pretty awesome.

Those were the days. You were young and fresh and didn’t look like a dead man walking on the sidelines. You praised your players and said that the coaches had to work harder when things didn’t go right. Outsiders warned us, but we never listened.

“You know he’s not really a Gator at heart, right?”

“If Ohio State ever opens up…”

“He’s only there for Tebow.”

At least we pretended to never listen. Truth is, most of us figured this relationship wouldn’t end well. Really, what does the UF job mean to a guy who was born and bred in Ohio? You signed up because there was a good football program that needed saving. But for the first time in your head coaching career, you stepped into a place where football is life. You became a Gator because it was opportune, but you were surrounded by people whose entire existence has revolved around it.

No, I’m not talking about most of the students that your players sing to at the end of every home victory. In today’s twisted, academic elitist “Gator Nation” Gainesville, most of those kids are only wearing orange and blue because they couldn’t get into Yale, or they’re pissed because Daddy wouldn’t pay for them to go to Duke. They don’t know any quarterback before Tebow or any coach before you.

I’m talking about the ones who know how bad it hurts to suck and never want to go back there again. The people who weren’t happy when you told Shane Matthews to buy a ticket in 37F if he wants to see a Gator game.

You’d never been the guy who had to take on these kinds of people before and over the years, it showed.

It wore you down. What with the constant pressure from said boosters that caused you to stretch character boundaries on talented recruits who ended up getting arrested (30 times, but who’s counting). Or the fact that many of those recruits came in on the heels of two national titles and pretended that they had won the rings.

But every coach at every premier program deals with this, Urban. And they don’t all groan in press conferences or resign two years in a row. Everybody has long hours and hard days, but nobody ever bitched about it as much as you.

Words like “drama queen” and “prima donna” have been thrown around you while you fancy yourself an “old-school football guy.”

If there’s one thing about you that made you what you are, it was the obsessive nature. Not all coaches are obsessive, but those who are become completely dependent upon it. You’re obsessive. Jon Gruden is obsessive. Pete Carroll and Steve Spurrier are not.

And a funny thing happened between the strange health problems and the stress and the trademark shocked/confused press conferences. You gave up control and stopped obsessing. In human nature, this sounds good. In college football, it was suicide.

Steve Addazio can’t game plan a primetime game against Alabama or LSU. Hell, he can’t put together a plan for Miami, Ohio.

You should have seen yourself. You looked lost and incoherent. It was an awkward scene.

Maybe what caught me the most was how you stood beside your coaches and left your young team out in the cold. If I hear you say one more time that Addazio’s offense doesn’t work because of execution, I might destroy things. You even gave me that line one more time during your parting presser. Ugh.

Without control, you became a sad shell of the Urban Legend. Young, revolutionary coaches aren’t supposed to serve as Bobby Bowden-esque figure heads. They’re not supposed to look uninterested on the sidelines and stare at the ground and tell reporters “We’re not good.” over and over again after games.

They can usually adjust to the team they have and make things work. It’s hard to tell if you came here to coach the Florida Gators or to coach Tim Tebow and then call it a day.

In hindsight, you should have never come back after your favorite class left. But you did and it was a disaster.

Not the kind of disaster that would even hint at your firing, mind you. Regardless of 7-5, you’re still Urban Damn Meyer and it should and would take a lot to get you axed here. Two crystal footballs will do that for a man.

Shannons and Addazios and Richts get fired. Meyers don’t.

But you pandered to us anyways. You told us the morning after the Florida State debacle that you were going to “build this thing up right.” That it was time to recruit and restore greatness in Gainesville.

And then you left. And the pandering continued.

Now you’re going to be super dad. You’re going to embrace your family that you’ve sparingly seen over your 24 years of coaching. It’s beautiful and thoughtful and … not true.

Football coaches are like pro wrestlers, and you have somehow – at the age of 46 – managed to put yourself in the same physical condition as Ric Flair. At the very most you’ll be gone from coaching for a year. Then we’ll hear the old “Well, I was driving the kids crazy at home” cracks and you’ll be back with a fresh face.

Tell us what this really is. A chance to skip a recruiting season and pop up fresh somewhere by 2012. This isn’t retirement. This is spring break.

This all sounds so ungrateful. Especially to, say, fans of teams that haven’t won in ten years (burn!).

Is it ungrateful? It probably is. If you would have told my Grandpa in the 70s that one day the Gators would have a coach who won two national titles, and he would have a grandson who would make negative remarks about him, he might have discarded me at birth.

But at the very least, Urban, you need a major rest. I respect like crazy all you have done here, but we both know that your current approach of apathy won’t cut it anywhere. I know we agree on that. It’s the real reason you stepped down today.

Your good years are remembered on the walls. Your bad years aren’t. Please don’t get cold feet again and crawl back with a half-assed desire in hand again.

Thanks,

Bryan Holt

“You guys suck. I’m leaving.”

Somebody needs to vent

Do you see this ball?

DO YOU SEE THIS BALL?

Well today I’m picking it up. Goin’ home.

Been in the cards since Tim left. Guy ‘made me a legend‘. Without him, I’m a whipping boy for your heart attack jokes.

You guys suck. I’m leaving.

Gettin’ the F*CK outta Dodge.

Didn’t have to be this way. Coulda showed me a little respect – you know, for the three BCS appearances. For the two national titles. For molding Ron Zook’s pissed-on ashes into a crystal Sears trophy.

I’M COMING OFF A F*CKING SUGAR BOWL!

You thought 7-5 was bad? Wait till next year. You know how I said yesterday that Steve was sticking around? Yeah, that was intentional.

I hate you people, and I really hate your unrealistic expectations. I feel like Gladiator right now.

“ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED”?!!!

And Cam… kid’s just rubbin’ salt in my wounds. Trust me, I tried to pay him. Bought him his own laptop and everything. Tried to land him straight up for Brantley’s sorry azz.

Just so you know, I’m 6-1 in bowl games. I put you back on the map. When’s the last time you heard an “I-75 till to you step in it” crack?

That’s what I thought.

Douchebags.

By the way, Sporting News named me the the coach of the decade. So, uh, there’s that, too.

They say the grass is always greener on the other side. And by “they,” I mean Broncos management. Ever seen the Sling ‘n Wing in Mile High air? F*ckin’ scary.

Just kidding, I’m really buying a house in Miami. The MIA. The 305. Those people f*ckin worship me. Funny thing, peeps recognize a great coach when they go 10 years without one.

So what now? Huh? How you like them apples? Want me to coach The U? Want me to coach the Noles? Want me to buy ANOTHER house in Gainesville so you can egg the windows and teepee the chimney?

Y’all got what you asked for. What was coming to ya. HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW, BRYAN HOLT?

Ya gonna just whip another Hall of Fame coach out your ass?

Bear Bryant walkin’ through that door?

I wish Mike Shula on you people.

Whatchya gonna write about now, Alligator? Who’s mug you gonna put on your front pages. Sincerely hope your paper burns in hell.

Yep. That’s right. I’m leavin. Come on down, sanctions! Looking… Looking… Nope, no institutional control over here! “Time to die bitch” ain’t no joke!

I really, really despise this godforsaken town. I’m too good for you. I’m young, I’m handsome, I have the heart of an ox, and I’m a two-time national champion.

Enjoy crash landing back to reality, folks. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

And Jeremy Fowler, you sir are an asshole.

I’m f*ckin’ packing my bags. Getting the hell out of here.

Get one last look at this pretty face, cuz next time you see it, it’ll be on the f*cking Vince Lombardi Trophy.

I am a winner. I am a champion. You people are spoiled little brats.

Kiss my suntanned ass, Gator Nation.

- URBAN F*CKING LEGEND

A Good Old-Fashioned Mass Kicking

Beginning to look a lot like Christmas ('04)

Something tells me when Rex Ryan flew into Foxboro, this wasn’t the kind of pat down he expected. Guys who run their mouths with the swashbuckling aplomb of a drunken homecoming king do so with no thoughts of coming out the wrong side of a 43-point deconstruction.

Ryan learned a simple lesson Monday night – respect your elders – and the way in which it was delivered suggests that those instructing aren’t adverse to using a spanking spoon.

45-3 much?

New England did not play last night like the high-octane fireworks display of 2007, but instead the evolutionary incarnation of the 3-time champion that built a dynasty with Pattens and Faulks and Baxters.

The names on the backs of the shirts have changed. The formula has not: plan, plan, plan, execute.

It is precisely this type of mindset that transformed a would-be clash of division-rivaling titans into a lopsided reminder that the smartest guy in the room is the one wearing the hoodie. And if Belichick is the scheming warlord, Brady is his implacable field general – capable of pulling off the most intricate strategies without so much as a brand arsenal.

With Woodheads and Gronkowskis, Brady is putting together, at 33 and on a reconstructed left leg, the second best season of his legendary career, and that he’s doing so while also shouldering the bulk of the veteran leadership role is testament both to his superior work ethic and seeming inability to suffice. Three Super Bowl rings, international fame and a supermodel bride later, Tom Brady – god bless him – wants this more than ever.

It is fitting, then, that he’s surrounded once more by a ragtag bunch of castoffs and no-names who were slighted at one time or another just as heartlessly as he was. The New England Patriots as currently constituted exist a walking chip-on-shoulder. Egos, attitudes, and outliers have been purged to the point that the second most recognizable player on the team is a 5-foot-9-inch, undrafted receiver who himself plays on a knee not fully recovered.

What’s left is a throbbing core of head-down perfectionism compensating in smarts and surgical precision for what it lacks in skill. Make no mistake: the long list of depth chart casualties at the heart of New England’s roster did not find their way here by accident. Whether too small (Woodhead), too slow (Spikes), or too old (Taylor), Belichick’s lot of personal reclamation projects failed to measure up in a way non-geniuses attribute to winning.

For once, the “nobody believes in us” rallying cry rings true, or rather, it would if not for the consummate terminator under center. To belabor a point that needs belaboring, Tom Brady is the apotheosis of greatness, and for all his oft-praised intangibles – the commanding presence, the intelligence, the fire – it is in fact that unparalleled ability to throw a football that sets him apart from the few men who lead as mightily.

Brady dissected the vaunted Jets defense with the kind of care and clinical precision usually reserved for Jenga champions. With bubble screens, crossing routes, throwbacks and play-action, New England’s offense ran up 405 yards on the back of Twelve’s 21 of 29, 4 touchdown performance. He put his receivers in game-breaking positions almost without exception, setting up Welker, Woodhead, and Hernandez, among others, for what quickly unfolded a night-long celebration of YAC.

Brady’s now topped a 117 passer rating for four straight games and might’ve been handed the MVP before game’s end if there were not rules preventing such things. Still, in a game marked primarily by meticulous aerial displays, it was a single smash-mouth confrontation on 4th-and-short with 11 minutes left that must, a day on, nag at Ryan most. After all, in instances as these – pads-on-pads, man-on-man – no amount of guru maneuvering can atone for a broken will.

Up 38-3 on the Jets’ 19, Brady’s consistently prolific offense needed, this time, no more than a drive-extending yard. Opening a big hole on a frosted night in December, it with conviction and force gained 10.

- Robbie

Tiger’s Baby Step

Overshadowed.

It had all the makings: blood-colored Nike, the fist pump, the erupting gallery. The stiff 8-iron on 18.

Tiger Woods did everything on Sunday afternoon except win, but when you’re Tiger Woods, winning is the only thing that matters.

What transpired instead was another startling-though-not-so-startling-now instance in which the greatest golfer of all-time got beat by… a better golfer.

With a final round 69, U.S. Open champion Graeme McDowell erased a four-shot lead, thanks in part to a steely, cup-tracking putter, thanks in part to his opponent’s floundering back-nine. Tiger finished with a topsy-turvy 73, complete with momentum-swinging double on an until-then vulnerable par-5.

This weekend did not go as it was supposed to, not if you’ve any understanding of legend or a good redemption story. Tiger’s approach shot on the 72nd hole should’ve brought to a hopeful conclusion an all too turbulent year with a punctuated statement of purpose.

I was away. Now I’m back.

For three nostalgic days, all signs suggested this long, insurmountable road to recovery was not as long or insurmountable as it once appeared. Tiger looked like the Tiger of old: flag-hunting, fiery, dominant.

If it seems paradoxical that the preeminent winner of our time couldn’t buy a win, that’s because it is, and if Tiger never returns to world-beating form, his look of post-playoff dismay would be a fittingly enduring image.

For a man who’s made with authority almost every putt that’s ever mattered, Tiger’s last roll on hole 73 confounded simply by not going in. That 15-footer drops 9 years ago, and probably, too, last October.

Now, a long 13 months – the longest 13 months ever - turns to 14 with only the bittersweet taste of late-Sunday contention as consolation.

This one has to hurt. Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory is not an outcome with which Tiger is familiar. It’s been 12 years since he’s surrendered in extra holes, a small eternity since ceding a four-shot lead while decked in red.

Still, as the new world No. 1 has warned, underestimating Tiger Woods would be a blunder. He is, after all, a competitor who’s turned many a weekend to formality, who’s willed his way to victory on a broken leg.

All told, then, Sunday was a reminder that rebuilding one’s swing is difficult, rebuilding one’s life even more so. Even the most fervent skeptic must admit, though, that it was also a step – albeit a tiny one – in the right direction. Tiger was there when it mattered, in red, in the final group, with a lead. It sure felt right.

- Robbie

A Turning Point for The King?

Defiance, Ohio.

Read Holt’s reaction here.

LeBron James looked last night very much like the man who spent his meteoric formative years building the groundwork for glory. He was, once again, a dominant basketball force, a swaggering maker of cool, and a magnetic presence whose very persona inspires jaw-dropped awe.

Those who could set aside the bitter taste of betrayal perhaps saw Thursday something absent since the first round of last year’s playoffs: the best player in the league having fun. But last night was not about fun. It was about revenge, as much for the player himself as the collective Witness he spawned.

On Thursday night, with the basketball world watching, LeBron James was a killer.

Amid signs of “Lyin’ King” and collective taunts of hatred, James dropped a team-record-tying 24-points in the 3rd quarter on his way to an effortless 38 and an entire 4th-quarter’s-worth of iced-down reflection. LeBron played like a man with a 5 in each eye, and had his opponents not quit halfway through the second half, the King might’ve hit double-nickel: 55 Cleveland, for you. Suck on this.

Of course, his adversaries in the stands – unlike their usually respectable rooting interest – never relented, never backed down and, until the wait-isn’t-that-a-compliment? “Scottie Pippen” chant, never offered anything more than a distilled swill of venom. Not sports hate, but the real thing – the kind of visceral anti-passion that ignites jerseys and transforms Fatheads into dartboards.

Jilted lovers and the merits of Mr. Pippen aside, the only Scottie in the building last night was one Dwyane Wade. In front of this sold-out den of hostility, LeBron, for one of the very first times in his career, was the star among other stars. He did during one of the most emotionally taxing three-hour stretches of his young life that which he’s shown only past glimpses of: puting one team on his back, vanquishing the other’s will, repeating a simple mantra - I will not lose this game.

For 36 minutes, LeBron was Michael. LeBron was Larry. LeBron, if only against the middling Cavs, was magic.

It’s a well-worn literary theme for turns of villainy to bring out one’s true essence, and perhaps – I, for one, am desperately hoping – Thursday night was the beginning of LeBron’s embrace of this anomalous alter-ego: the cold-blooded winner.

There is no doubting his enormous talents, but as we’ve so frustratingly seen over the last seven years, tangibles alone do not a legend make.

LeBron James needs to want this.

As a fan of basketball, a fan of history, and, most of all, a fan of greatness, I want The King to live up to his crown – put these lesser stars on his broad shoulders and remind everyone why his offseason coup was one of the most startling and transformative phenomena in the annals of sport.

Maybe there’s still hope. And though I’ve written him off before, I can’t help but clutch on to moments as these – flashes of brilliance that make me think, if only for a night, “Well maybe.”

- Robbie

College Football? Yeah, College Football: Week 14

Okay, kids. Here is what we call a loser. Point and laugh.

Less amount of games. Same amount of fun.

Week 14: If I was to give it a title it’d be “Conference Championships and Other Stuff.”

Conference championship games are great, and I admit this as a guy whose mourning the one-year anniversary of the worst night of my life. The atmosphere of a conference title game may be one of the better measures of what kind of conference you are.

The Georgia Dome feels like a big deal every December. The Big 12 puts on a good show every once in a while. Let’s just say that there are “plenty of good seats available” if you’re interested in checking out the ACC’s rendition in Charlotte this Saturday.

Growing up a Gator fan during Spurrier, the SEC Championship Game was everything. Winning the SEC was always Spurrier’s first goal and often the only goal if a national championship was feasible. He always treated any bowl game that wasn’t for the crystal football like an early spring break for players. Few rules, practice sparingly, maybe try to win. But the SEC Championship was always serious.

Cam Newton had a strange week by being ruled eligible when no one knew he was ineligible.

I hate to be the spoiler here, but I really don’t think that there’s any way this is all going to stand in the long-run. Cam Newton took money. Somebody from Auburn or associated with Auburn paid him. I know it and you know it.

We’re supposed to believe that he just went to Auburn cleanly when he his dad wanted money from Mississippi State, the school he actually was passionate about going to? If Cam’s dad really was somehow able to do all of this without every letting Cam know, he officially has to go down as the worst father ever.

It might happen four years down the road when Cam is a Super Bowl champion or something, but it’s going to happen. I’m watching you, Newton.

Before I get to the quick picks, I have to randomly remind you that The Miz, yes the guy off “The Real World,” is now WWE Champion. Okay, I only say that so that I can use this picture of a very angry little’s girl’s awesome reaction.

Demon girl, it's fake.

Rutgers at 24 West Virginia

Rutgers is horrible this year and they’re much more tolerable that way. WINNER: Mountaineers

Southern Methodist at UCF – Conference USA Championship Game

Stay inside and hide your face drugs, Orlando-area residents. UCF winning the C-USA Championship Game will make STDs get passed around campus like weed at a Sublime cover band concert. SMU should seriously look into paying its players again. WINNER: Golden Knights

Utah State at 11 Boise State

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Boise lost. For those looking for the reason Boise lost, look no further than their kicker. I blame him not because he missed two field goals, but because he’s a kicker with earrings. Seriously, you’re a kicker, dude. You’re not supposed to venture into flashy wide receiver land. Now go hang out with Arizona’s DuRag-wearing joke of kicker. I’m sure you guys can be game-blowing besties.

You want to know why Kyle Brotzman missed two clutch field goals? Because he hasn’t kicked in a meaningful game all damn season. Which is why Boise should never be respected as a legitimate team. Which is why I’m so freaking happy. WINNER: Boise, but who cares? Enjoy your meaningless bowl game on your hideous blue turf.

17 Nevada at Louisiana Tech

Alright, Nevada. Your time is already wearing thin with me. Win before you become my new Boise. WINNER: Boise killers.

2 Oregon at Oregon State

Civil War. Big rivalry. Hostile environment. Whatever, Oregon is unstoppable. WINNER: Ducks

Much like Denzel, unstoppable.

1 Auburn vs. 19 South Carolina – SEC Championship Game

Easily the game of the weekend. I’m about to tell you something earth-shattering. Auburn really isn’t very good. Of course they’ve gone undefeated in the SEC and surely deserve every opportunity that they get, but I just don’t have a feel for these guys. Basically all they are is the same five-loss team they were last year with the added presence of the best player in college football at QB. Their defense is horrendous and they severely lack offensive weapons other than Newton. I personally think they’ll get destroyed by Oregon if they make it that far. They won’t. WINNER: UPSET SPECIAL. South Carolina. OBC has more surprises to make this season.

Washington at Washington State

I now pick the Apple Cup in honor of Internet phenom, Kyle Rancourt. I know nothing about either team other than that Jake Locker drinks wine coolers and Smirnoff Ice Light. WINNER: Washington State. Go Cougs!

21 Florida State vs. 15 Virginia Tech – ACC Championship Game

If this is like every other ACC title game, you’ll be able to hear cell phones in the stands and people’s conversations. My Gator season is dry, so I’m going to do the only reasonable thing, and cheer on Va Tech as they go all Asian kid on Florida State. WINNER: Hokies

9 Oklahoma vs. 13 Nebraska – Big 12 Championship Game

The Big 12 has been strangely non-existent this year. I think Nebraska leaves it with a bold parting message. WINNER: Huskers

Connecticut at South Florida

UConn is coming into Tampa knowing that a victory means a Big East title and a BCS game. Hopefully USF is thinking about how much fun it’ll be to ruin that. Interesting aspect of the weekend for a Tampa person, USF plays at 8 while the Bucs have a national TV game at 4 the next day on the same field. Conditions might not be so lovely for the Bucs on Creamsicle/John McKay Day. WINNER: Bulls

Creamsicle Day > Christmas

USC at UCLA

Remember when UCLA ruined USC’s world in 2006? That was a great day. For the last time this season [sheds a tear], Lane Kiffin pees sitting down. WINNER: UCLA

Ladies and gents, Oregon vs. TCU.

-Bryan

A Final LeBron James Rant

"It's nothing personal."

Seriously, I’m done after this.

Thursday night came and went and nobody ran on the court or jumped LeBron James or picked him off from the third level with a sniper rifle.

In other words, Cleveland’s first-ever official “Eff You, LeBron” Night was rather uneventful.

That didn’t stop a few old teammates and friends from snubbing the blasphemy of a LeBron handshake.

And it certainly didn’t stop the Cleveland crowd from getting some good shots in using the art of chanting.

“Akron hates you.”

“Scottie Pippen”

“Witnessed nothing.”

“Delonte.”

The one that seemed to be everyone’s favorite was the simple-yet-piercing “Asshole.”

Now many people will say today that Cleveland needs to get over it. That their taunts were as annoying as their insistence upon never leaving July. No, I’m not trying to defend them as part of some sappy Wright Thompson-esque populist post, but Cleveland fans more than deserved the opportunity to tell LeBron how much they hate him last night and every night in the future.

I’m not exactly known as the moral police when it comes to athletes, but I still have a terrible gut feeling from what LeBron did. And I could care less about the Cavs.

It was the sign of everything that is wrong with sports in the modern era.

Player gets drafted by hometown team as an 18-year-old kid. Team is terrible but hometown hero helps create a vibrant basketball culture in Cleveland. He soon becomes the only positive the long-tortured city has. Hometown hero teases fans for two years by pimping out the day he becomes a free agent. Hometown hero informs team he’s been with for seven years that he is leaving via national television. Hometown hero has almost zero contact with anyone he’s played with, treats hometown like an ugly ex-girlfriend that he doesn’t like to talk about. He plays to half-empty arenas every night in a city with zero passion for pro sports and calls it the big time.

Once upon a time.

And we, the people watching at home, are forced to sit through Reggie Miller bashing Cleveland fans and laughing at them for two-and-a-half hours on TNT. As if they don’t have a right to be angry at LeBron. Even though on any given night, there is still a gabijillion times the passion in Cleveland’s Quicken Loans Arena as there is in Miami’s American Airlines Arena even though they’re only rewarded with a cast of support players.

Now make no mistakes, LeBron is the reason why the Cavs still sell-out. He built them to a point where the city cared. But the continuation of the sell-outs is in large part due to people wanting to fight back.

And that’s what we saw on Thursday.

Miller expected fans and players to “get over it” after James told the players they weren’t good enough to deserve him and left the fans in the coldest way possible.

Now.

There were right ways to do it. Maybe a press conference in Akron or Cleveland where he could have shown a bit of emotion or humility in leaving Ohio behind. People would still hate, but not to the same degree and not for eternity. Most players don’t stick with one team forever anymore. People would eventually understand.

But LeBron is led by high school buddies with little education and less experience.

For two years, he toyed with an organization for no apparent reason. He played to the crowds in New York. He flirted with the concept of Chicago. He carried the “Hey I’m probably going to ditch this place ASAP vibe” around and expected teammates and ownership to be cool with it.

He praises his “Decision” special because of how much money it donated to the Boys and Girls Club. Except the more he talks about it, the more you become sure that LeBron is more about telling you that he raised money for the kids than he is actually having done the action. Charity is used as an excuse. Look at me! I did great things! Please recognize it!

Some will say they’re tired of Cleveland this morning. I say I hope they stick to this hatred for LeBron’s entire career. At the very least it will help LeBron remember what it’s like to play in front of a full house instead of vapid red-and-orange seats.

After the game he told Craig Sager that he has the utmost respect for Cleveland and he tried to win a championship there. That explains the taunts to the Cavs bench after his third quarter three-pointer, right?

“I’m just going to continue my greatness in Miami.”

12-8.

Stay classy, LeBron.

-Bryan