Greetings Folks,
The purpose of this blog is pretty damn simple…to keep us alive through the pain and misery that is the NBA season, to provide us hope from the horror of NHL highlights, and uplift our spirits while we watch yet another pitching change, countered by a pinch hitter, followed by another trip to the mound. Now don’t get me wrong, I love baseball, but in the words of the late-great Irish revolutionary Sinead O’Connor[1], “Nothing compares to college football.”
With that being said, it is time for us to act. It is time for us to take a new direction. It is time for us to deny the advances from the “Sports Machines”[2] that constantly try to lure us into caring about Sydney Crosby’s stick handling or Jason Kidd’s ball skillz[3]. It is time we stand up for all those frat boys and hot sorority chicks that no longer know what to do with their Saturday afternoons. It is time we dedicate ourselves to our one true passion just like a 4th grader playing AAU, or a 10-year-old Russian immigrant living at a tennis academy whose been told by their father that if they don’t win, the family will starve.
That’s the kind of passion, commitment and hunger this blog will bring to college football. We will be ruthless in our analysis, defensive of our conference loyalties, opinionated on the merits of schedule strength, and above all else, we will remain unified in our efforts to bring down the Big 10. Say it with me now: YES, WE CAN!
But on the subject of the Big 10, there is one beacon of hope, one ray of sunlight, one jedi knight that stops us from throwing up in our mouth. His mere presence allows us to tolerate the sweater vests, the 14-13 fourth quarter scores, the fullback dives and the 5’10 quarterbacks. His encyclopedic knowledge of the game, proficient use of the English language, clever comparisons between the college and NFL systems, and his ability to climb inside the heads of the premier college football minds to offer unique insight is unparalleled in the broadcasting world. He can make a 9-minute, 14-play, 80-yard drive that results in a missed field goal, feel as tender, gentle and memorable as prom night. But those amazing skills aside, what allows our fearless leader to rise above all others is his down-home charm. During those 3.5 hour broadcasts, he takes us back to a place where neighbors waved, doors were left unlocked, kids met at the soda shop and people greeted each other with “Hi Folks” and “How about that fourth-and-one call, pardner?”
It is this ability that we honor, that we celebrate, that we drink to. It is that same passion and excitement “BM” shows for the Buckeyes and Mack Brown that we promise to deliver on these pages. Therefore, on behalf of Bone, Rocca and me (L-Train), we proudly welcome you to Musburger with Cheese.
[1] Upon further review, Sinead O’Connor is not dead. Apparently she was last seen fleeing into the Yukon Territory with Alanis Morissette carrying nothing but a set of clippers, a case of Kokanee, and the Boston College playbook.
[2] Man, do I miss George Michael’s Sports Machine. Seriously, was there anything better than when he hit those magical buttons and the “Machine” would launch into highlight packages featuring the week’s top plays, which always seemed to include some cowboy getting stabbed in the ass by a bull. God bless you, George.
[3] Kidd gets model girlfriend pregnant after being divorced for 2 months. The NBA…where amazing happens.
