Unless Kim Jong Un launches some nervous uncle he doesn’t like to bronco buck a nuke-fitted ICBM into Mercedes-Benz Stadium like Slim Pickens’ Major “King” Kong did to the delight of General Jack Ripper and the suddenly ambulatory Dr. Strangelove, college pigskin is just over the horizon.
None too soon if you ask me. Now that I’ve watched that wacko ending to last year’s Georgia/Tennessee game in replay on the World Wide Leader too many times. (Sayonara Verne Lundquist, just in time.)
That SEC finish reminds me to mention from the get go how much I adore Big 12 football, where every game is like that. So what that there’s no D. 58-54 on the telly from Lubbock as the sun sets and the Impellizzeri’s pizza has been ordered on an almost crisp late September Saturday afternoon is more than fine with me. Those games from out on the prairie remind me of the early days of the AFL. Bambi frolicking across the middle for the Chargers against the Raiders from Balboa Stadium with Charlie Jones on the call.
Back and forth. Forth and back.
OK, so where was I? Oh yeah, now that I’ve looked back — too many times frankly — to relive when James Quick should have zagged but zigged late against Clemson, cementing the Cards demise in Death Valley a season ago, I know it’s long past time to move on. Continue reading Seedy K’s Ready for Some Football, Aren’t You?