Showing posts with label The Oklahoman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Oklahoman. Show all posts

Monday, November 29, 2010

Avoid the clap. Just look at the Big 12.


Texas is like the clap. It's something you want to avoid.

Look at what happened when a perfectly fine athletic conference got all liquored up back in 1994 and hopped in the sack with a bunch of floozies from thereabouts. Not only was it not better in Texas, but the Big 8 ended up with a wicked case of SWC-philis.

And not only that, a TV network had the videotapes, and a shotgun marriage was in Big 8's future. The new union ended up being called the Big 12 -- as in,
"Come to think of it, not even a big 12-pack of beer could make this bunch look prettier at closing time."

Unfortunately, a shotgun marriage -- while it might have kept the videotapes in ABC's vault (and the Big 8 from becoming a celebrity like Paris Hilton) -- did nothing to cure that now-raging case of SWC-philis. Big 12 grew sickly as the years passed and, as the SWC-philis moved into its brain, became prone to irrational rages and sank into a quagmire of co-dependency.


"I hate this SWC-philis. How could I go on without my SWC-philis? Pass me another big 12-pack of Lone Star. (Urp.) Still uglier than s***. Kill me now, I married a f***ing cow. No, really."

ALAS, this is an ill-fated union that won't end until the fat Longhorn sings "Vaya con dios, mi sucker."

Until then, all there is left to do is endure the irrational ranting of The SWC-philitic Formerly Known as Big 8 as its appendages fall off one by one. For example, this insane rant, penned under the pseudonym of "Berry Trammel"
(God, the poor bastard can't even spell names right anymore):
Such is the fractured relationship of Nebraska and its soon-to-be ex-league, you couldn't blame Big 12 commissioner Dan Beebe for telling the Cornhuskers, don't leave, just leave mad.

Corn Country is outraged that Beebe — nor anyone from the Big 12 office — showed up in Lincoln for the Nebraska-Colorado game Friday.

Beebe was honest about why he didn't go to Nebraska. He feared for his safety.

I talked to Beebe in the Boone Pickens press box Saturday night, and he said he had received enough threats from Nebraska fans — over the 2009 title game controversy, over his suspension of NU's Eric Martin for a helmet-to-helmet hit against Oklahoma State, over the officiating in the Nebraska-Texas A&M game two weeks ago — that he was advised to steer clear of Lincoln.

Now the Huskers consider it an affront that no one bothered to conduct a trophy presentation for the Big 12's North division title.
SIGH. They say that when the mind is being eaten up by the SWC-philis, gullibility is always the last thing to go.

Poor, poor bastard. God knows that's what got him into trouble in the first place. Read on . . . if your breaking heart can bear it:
I don't think Nebraska's football standards have fallen so low that the Huskers prize a We-Beat-Mizzou piece of hardware. I just think a once-solid fan base has lost its collective mind.

Nebraskans have resorted to bloodlust over their exodus to the Big Ten. They've demonized the Longhorns. Called the rest of the league rubes for staying aligned with UT.

Hey, Huskers. The Big Ten is a great conference that offers lots of money and lots of intriguing competition. Nobody blames you for going.

We blame you for losing your class.

Last November, one calendar year, I wrote a column with a banner headline: “Why can't every place be like Lincoln?”

I applauded Nebraska's commitment to hospitality and courtesy and a stadium experience the way it ought to be.

What happened to those people? Now Nebraska seems inhabited by a bunch of kooks who frighten off Beebe, an ex-NCAA investigator, and fire off uncouth e-mails like they're from Louisiana or somewhere.
POOR BASTARD. Stockholm syndrome.

Kids, let this be a cautionary tale about what happens when you jump into the sack with just anybody. Loss of virtue is just the beginning of the end result. You, too, could end up with a raging case of SWC-philis. And that's never pretty.

Avoid the clap.