Louisville at Syracuse, 12:00 p.m., EDT: The Doug Marrone Death Machine is here, it is real, and it is here to POLITELY ASK FOR THE BIG EAST TITLE. The courtesy is unnecessary, since the rest of the conference has just abandoned it in the middle of the open bank vault and appears to have given up completely, but it’s very sweet of Otto to be so polite about it. (If he was really nice he’d go over there and help West Virginia pull their hand out of the mailbox. They’ve been stuck there for a few weeks.)
College Football Rootability Index, Week 10: Fear The Bear
In this week’s Rootability Index, our own Spencer Hall addresses the adorable Baylor team that will maul you to shreds, Les Miles’ designs on the elusive self-lateral, and the general malaise that blankets Colorado-Kansas.
LEAN: Syracuse.
NC State at Clemson, 12:00 p.m. EDT. I know it’s late, Clemson. I know you’re weary. I know your coaching staff is in discombobulated disarray, and that your starting running back on the bench. I know your plans don’t include being a team with no discernible identity entering a home game against the best team in the conference after a loss to the worst team in the conference. I know your plans don’t include me.
Still here we are, Clemson: both of us lonely, or at least in need of something to do at noon tomorrow. I can’t resist the smell of desperation, and if ever there was a sad sailor at the bar at 3:30 a.m in college football right now, you’re it. I’ll pick up the check. Let’s make some memories.
LEAN: Clemson.
Illinois at Michigan, 12:00 p.m. EDT. Denard Robinson is going to play in this game, and he would be the obvious stunner of a pick if you’re looking for maximum firepower in your viewing, but that gets in the way of my grand plan to have Illinois win out, go to the Gator Bowl, and meet Florida in an enthralling bowl game where Urban Meyer thanks Ron Zook for the players he used to win the national championship in 2006, and then accent his gratitude by beating him by three touchdowns*. You’re not getting in the way of this dream, Denard, no matter how spectacular you may be.
*Florida scoring this many points on anyone is how you know it’s fiction.
LEAN: Illinois.
Baylor at Oklahoma State, 12:00 p.m. EDT. Baylor’s mascot is named “Lady,” which is a very dainty name for a ruthless, flesh-ripping animal like a bear, and a fine metaphor for this Baylor team. They sound cute, sure.. Awww, wook at the widdle Baylor. They certainly don’t seem intimidating.So cuuuuuute. Then you pick it up, and it rips your face off, and as it’s eating you two thoughts cross your mind: a.) This hurts a lot worse than I thought it would, and b.) Robert Griffin is way better than I remembered.
LEAN: Baylor.
Kansas at Colorado, 2:00 p.m. : The two most sorrowful teams in the Big 12 meet to determine ... man. It’s hard to say why they’re playing at all, actually. Kansas is 2-6, has been outscored 187-40 in their Big 12 schedule, and is Kansas. Colorado is in the hospice stage of the Dan Hawkins era. If Kansas wins, we hope Colorado is just kept comfortable and in a peacefully medicated state until the end of the year.
(Via Thujone.)
LEAN: Sorrow.
TCU at Utah, 3:30 p.m. EDT. TCU enters this game with its best chance to throw a brick into the dryer of the BCS, since chaos results either way. If TCU wins, they will add another strong strength of schedule component to their resume and notch an important high-profile win late in the season. If they lose, they buffet Utah’s claim for a spot in a BCS title, which when denied will place them in an embarrassingly incongruous bowl (say, the Las Vegas Bowl) and thus make college football’s ruling cartel look all the sillier for it. The Joker wins either way, but a TCU win would pave the way for a second undefeated Horned Frogs regular season in a row, and that idea puts the maximum logical stress on the system. (Especially with Boise State out there, too.)
LEAN: TCU
Boise State at Hawaii, 3:30 p.m. See previous entry’s stated desire for maximum chaos at the end of the season.
LEAN: Boise State
Alabama at LSU, 3:30 p.m. EDT. Alabama’s national title run last year featured a tight game at home against LSU, one that came down to a late pair of scores from the Crimson Tide offense at home. Doom does not begin to describe what this means for Alabama, who now must face Les Miles in Baton Rouge with the full array of LSU’s arsenal of Les Miles Specials:
A fake on a special teams play, and not just a regular ol’ fake, but one involving Christmas lights, some roman candles, and one of those springboards NBA mascots use to make spectacular dunks during lulls in games.
Your kicker developing temporary vertigo and missing three fifteen-yard chip shot field goals.
Gary Crowton running one brilliant play to break your back, and thirty-seven that rub it.
Patrick Peterson intercepting a pass, getting caught in a two-man tackle, and then lateraling to himself. How this happens: he’s Patrick freakin’ Peterson, that’s how.
No one said it was fair, but no one said you could avoid it, either.
LEAN: LSU
Arkansas at South Carolina, 7:00 p.m. EDT. This is in Columbia at night, which as we all know is similar to Baton Rouge in its being a completely different place at night, a terrifying place where Gamecock defensive ends grow to twice their size, South Carolina quarterbacks gain previously unimagined skill and savvy, and that rooster noise begins to drill a visible hole in your head sometime around the third quarter. (The concession stands sell corks for visiting fans to plug the hole in your skull.) There’s rational reasons for the lean--the continued presence of Bobby Petrino, a.k.a. Spurrier with his emotion chip removed, and Ryan Mallett losing his number one receiver on the year--but the fear of a night in Columbia is enough to dissolve any reason here.
LEAN: South Carolina.
Arizona at Stanford, 8:00 pm. EDT. You don’t just walk into Stanford and take a win, sir. First you park your car, which is whisked away to an unseen parking garage by a polite and well-groomed polite valet. You stroll to a well-catered tailgate beneath a rented tent, where waiters patrol the nattily attired crowd with canapes in hand, and you overhear important commodity trading tips from those with serious financial interests in the colonies. More wine is poured, and you find your self on the arm of a Chinese plastics baron’s mistress, casually discussing potential casino acquisitions in Macau. Her bodyguards, loyal only to her lover, attack! You leap into a nearby expensive Italian sports car, ramp into the stadium, and then eject through a special rich person ejection seat that rich people have. You land in your seat and watch Stanford play football against Arizona, a team of poor people that don’t go to Stanford. Everyone laughs, because crashing cars and running away from Chinese assassins is something rich people do all the time.
P.S. I’ve never been to a game at Stanford and don’t know any obscenely rich people, but I really, really want both rich people and Stanford games to be exactly like this.
LEAN: Rich people with sports cars with ejection seats.
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