Starting to lose it. Caught myself reading the label on a can of Spam Lite for intellectual stimulation: "Cut in 8 to 12 slices. Arrange in baking dish. Spread with favorite sauce or glaze. Bake at 425 degrees for 10-12 minutes." Sorry, no can do. I'm a Spam purist. I've seen a lot of big gainers today, but the biggest, undoubtedly, is my waistline.
This kills me. One of the biggest arguments against a national three-week playoff system is that athletes would miss too many final exams. But Colorado came to Arizona 12 days before the Fiesta Bowl. That's enough time to play two games. This year you could have played the championship game on Jan. 7. School, at Colorado at least, starts on Jan. 4 this year. Exactly how many finals are there the first three days of the semester?
Life is good. The Choc-o-Cakes are terrific. I'm starting to get feeling in my legs again, and the teams in both the Fiesta and the Rose are scoring like Sam Malone. In one stretch during the Fiesta, Syracuse scored, then Colorado scored four plays later, and then Syracuse scored again when Kirby Dar Dar took the ensuing kickoff 100 yar yards for a touchdown off a reverse. While that was happening, Ty Wheatley of Michigan broke away for a thrilling 88-yard touchdown run. It was all so exciting, I accidentally dipped my shrimp into the bean dip.
And some countries like soccer.
I have now had tour TVs going in my face for more than six hours. I believe I'm getting a tan.
Syracuse defeats Colorado 26-22. McCartney was 1-5 in bowl games as an assistant with Michigan and is now 1-6 with Colorado. Only a shameful ticky-tack clip call against Notre Dame two seasons ago kept him from 0-7. What, him worry? He's got a 15-year contract.
I'm not sure I can go on. I am so sick of football that when I heard the opening fanfare for the Orange Bowl, I got a facial tic. Six games behind me, two more to go, and every play so far has been meaningless. At 80 plays a game, that's almost 500 plays. All I want is to stand erect again. On the other hand, if I can last another 10 minutes, I think I'll be able to approximate life in a coma.
After almost 10 hours, we finally have a game where something is actually at slake. The Sugar Bowl. There is only one way to celebrate. Honey, break open the Fiddle Faddle.
One thing that has become clear today is that when sportsmanship dies completely, we'll know what killed it: college football (page 68).
At the Fiesta Bowl, Colorado's Leonard Renfro got into a shoving match with a Syracuse player—before the game. When Corey Dixon scored a touchdown in the Orange Bowl for Nebraska off a lucky tipped ball, he bowed deeply and blew kisses to the crowd. His touchdown made the score Florida State 20, Nebraska 6. Just about every other time somebody has scored a touchdown today, it has been as though he just saved the Lindbergh baby. The basic pose is this: both arms extended full out, like Neil Diamond on his third encore, the better to absorb the adulation. There is no acknowledging the guy who sprung you with the block or the quarterback who threw you the football. Even when teammates are trying to hug you, you do not change the pose. There is no time for that. There is only time to exult in the magnificence that is me.