Geoausch

The word “football” invokes many powerful images.  Think back to watching NFL films, the voice of John Facenda narrating the action—breathing life into the games of old.  The “voice of god” set to images of big burly men with dirt stained, tattered uniforms crashing into each other as the diminutive backs would cut in and out seeking breathing room, while the trenches filled up with blood and sweat.  On numerous occasions Facenda would make references and allusions to the gladiators of ancient Rome.  These images helped foster an appreciation for the game of football and engendered an affinity for the sport in my life that has not wavered, but recently it felt something had changed.

Recently, a new trend has set upon the football world—the spread offense.  This disease first took hold on the high school and collegiate levels, as a means for less athletic teams to compete with teams with more speed, size and strength. Now even athletic teams like Michigan and Florida have abandoned their proud football past and caved into the latest fad.

The spread offense annoys me. In effect, it transforms the game into a glorified version of seven-on-seven, awarding finesse over athleticism.

The spread brand of football is void of physicality.  In essence, the team that runs the spread says via their actions that they don’t have the athletes to match-up man-to-man so they must resort to “spreading” men out in order to find a hole.  Think back to the “great teams” of yesteryear.  They lined up with the mentality “you know what we are going to do, now try and stop us.”

Isn’t that what makes football great?  The battle in the trenches, running backs fighting for yardage, and quick, aggressive defenses swarming to the ball.

This doesn’t even take into account the limitations the spread place on your play calling ability.  The spread works fine within the 20’s, but deep inside the red zone or deep inside your own territory, where a power running game is beneficial, the spread is actually a liability. Nothing irks me more than to see a team drive the ball to their opponent’s 3 yard line, only to line up in a shot gun formation. Some college quarterbacks play their entire career without ever taken a snap from under center and then wonder why NFL teams skip over them in spite of gaudy statistics.

A pure form of football features a sort of fluidity that is not found with the spread attack.  Players awkwardly stand in formation as the coach signals in the play.  The quarterback anxiously reads the defense trying to spot some weakness to exploit.  The ball is moved horizontally and instead of harmony, dissonance radiates.

Perhaps John Facenda is best remembered for his description of the 1967 “Ice Bowl” at the “frozen tundra of Lambeau Field,” which makes one wonder could a “spread attack” have accomplished the comeback Bart Starr engineered?  Even as a die-hard Cowboy’s fan born 11 years after it was played, I acknowledge that the “Ice Bowl” embodies everything that is great and pure about our game of football and sadly I fear that game has been taken over by the disease we now know as the “spread offense”, destroying all the images that made this game great.

We at Geoausch.Com feel that “sports experts” do not exist! However, every blogger, every writer, every loud mouth radio guy feels like they can accurately pick the winner of every FBS conference and accurately predict the winner of every game on the 2009 schedule. We’re not that generic. Sure, we could predict Texas to win the national championship and for Colt McCoy to win the Heisman, but if those scenarios were to come to fruition it wouldn’t make us experts, nor would it make us original. Instead, I thought it would be interesting to examine five questions I haven’t seen asked about the upcoming college football season.

1. Will teams finally figure out Florida the third time through? Everyone, from USA Today to the Cass County Sun predicts that Florida will repeat as national champions. This seems like a logical decision, especially with Tim Tebow leading the offensive attack for a third straight year. However, what people have failed to discuss is the gimmicky nature of the Florida offensive scheme. The reason gimmick offenses work is that they keep the defense guessing. The Wishbone was successful because the defense had three different backs to constantly key on, eventually defensive coordinators developed schemes to shut the offense down and teams stopped using it.  I think after three years of watching Tebow run this offense, defensive coordinators SEC will figure out a way to shut down the Florida attack. I don’t think the Gators will have a losing season, but is a 3 loss season out of the question?

2. Will anyone emerge to join the Heisman race? Please? It’s hard not like Sam Bradford, Colt McCoy and Tim Tebow, all three are upstanding young men with bright futures. However, it’s getting really old to see the same three faces on the cover of every magazine and college football website.

West Virginia running back, Noel Devine, was more visible in the media as a high school phenom than he has been in college. He put up solid numbers last year and could run his way into Heisman talk by season’s end, especially considering that he will be the Mountaineers primary offensive threat this season.

A lot of attention was placed on the bevy of quarterbacks in the Big XII last season: Graham Harrell, Chase Daniel, McCoy and Bradford wowed viewers and pundits from coast-to-coast.  With so many great quarterbacks in one conference, it’s no wonder that Kansas’ Todd Reesing slipped under the radar for most of the season. While McCoy and Bradord are back for another season, Harrell and Daniel have moved on, clearing room on the big stage for Reesing to show he belongs with the big boys.

Another Big XII offensive firecracker who should make a splash on the nation stage is Oklahoma State receiver, Dez Bryant. The Cowboys could probably win a couple of the other BCS conferences, but in the Big XII they are the third best team in their division. However, they feature an explosive offense and Bryant is the leader. He could be this year’s  Michael Crabtree.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention at least one defensive player. They don’t get much better than USC safety, Taylor Mays. Mays led the Trojans last year with 53 tackles and should be even better this year. The Trojan defense will depend on Mays to be a leader for some of their youth and if this defense puts up some numbers, Mays deserves to be in the talks for player of the year.

3. Will Rich Rodriguez or Charlie Weis be fired first? Notre Dame and Michigan are both learning that finesse football isn’t as valuable as it once was. Scandals have rocked the Michigan program and Notre Dame simply lacks athletes. As a result, neither fan base is too happy with their current coaching situation and both coaches enter the season on the hot seat.  The Irish have a relatively easy schedule this season and anything less than a 9 win season will probably result in Weiss’ early dismissal. If the Irish struggle early, lose a couple early, Weiss might not be around for the USC game in October.

Michigan opens with a favorable schedule early, but there is no room for hiccups. If they lose more than one game to another team from Michigan, Rodriguez is gone. Other wise, Rodriguez should make it to at least November and needs a 9 win season himself to save his job.

4. Will Texas A&M win a conference game this season? Throughout the 80′s and 90′s the Aggies were a perennial Top 10 team and for a short period of time were the premier college football program in the state. The last decade has been one of mediocrity for the Aggies and this year things could hit an all time low. Entering the season, the Aggies will be favored to win only one conference game, a Halloween home game against Iowa State. If the Aggies lose that one, there is not another favorable game on their schedule. If that happens, look for Mike Sherman to join Charlie Weis and Rich Rodriguez in the unemployment lines.

5. Will this be the season that the Big XII passes the SEC? Several experts feel that the Big XII may be a better conference than the SEC, from top to bottom, this season. Big XII fans have felt this for years, even though head-to-head results (see last year’s bowl games) seem to prove otherwise. It comes down to the age old adage, “offense wins games, but defense wins championship.” Simply put, they do not play defense like they do in the SEC anywhere else in the country. Combine that with explosive athleticism and you have the recipe for the best college football conference in the land. The Big XII is good, but at the end of the season, SEC will still be the king.

I just recently purchased a new laptop and I’m the process of transferring all of my files from my old laptop to an external hard drive for easier access. I found some of my old poetry I hadn’t read in a while, especially a poem I’ve had a couple of requests for….

Looking back, it’s clearly a cheap attempt at “Howl” and I realize that I fell well short of that mark, but it still carries a lot of emotional value for me. Feel free to comment and/or critique:

“November Spawned a Monster”

Cold blue smoke floats on a Wednesday afternoon
angst, the breakfast of champions, fuels me to
press on through the monotony of life.
Trapped in the glass globe of “southern living.”
Malnourished! Left to starve and choke on the
recycled Puritanical lies they
feed me.  People shuffle in and out, blind
to the rape which is occurring daily.
They rape me too, for years violated
by their calls for hate, while they paint it love.
Like a scared turtle I took shelter from
my fears in them, a product of my guilt.
Guilt, the crutch they use to beat dissenters.
No longer can I follow their trademark
recipe for hate.  Free thought my only
vehicle out of this holy shit-hole.
A 21st century digital
boy, a 21st century gad fly
America my Athens, but will my
idle words pack a sting or will hemlock
be my next entrée.  Pop radio the death
of life, sadly I silently hide the fact
I know the words, the headlines read the same
another nazi in Austin a pawn
to King George, a cog in the machine that’s
becoming the new evil empire
nicotine my friend on this bittersweet
morning.  A peace settles in as I am
reminded of words I read many years
ago, the only thing constant is change.
But what has changed? An epic sense of hate
and fear disguised in an artificial
sense of nationalism—Bush-leaguers—
black blood blinds bastard men obligated
to contractual obligations and
the divine sovereignty of Enron.
Rummy, The Cardiac Kid and Bushels
the cowboy clown bravely leading us on the
imperialistic charge through Babylon.
Illegitimacy abounds in an
illegitimate government. They
hate Mohamed—Mohamed sure loves them.
They remind us of that “Day”—a day I
remember all too well.
The incessant drone of the alarm clock
I tunneled in my sheets; sunlight seeped in
A confused voice stirred me, I sat up
“What are the chances this is an accident?”
I ran to the TV…Explosion #2!
I drive to work…Explosion #3!
Work, how can I work at a time like this?
I walked outside and lit a cigarette
the sun vibrantly shone casting shadows
upon the corridor I walked.
I heard the clanking of the flagpoles blowing in the distance
I reached for my phone; hoping for a connection out there
Busy.  I looked up, clear blue sky not a single cloud.
I walk on, heading towards a skyscraper.
Again, I dialed a number, hoping for a voice
Line down.  I looked up, how and why
I sat alone on the curve, lighting another cigarette
the nicotine my only comforter.
“Three down and one aloof”
What the fuck was happening?
It’s 9:30 A.M. and single yellow cab pulls into the bus station
$59 or less to anywhere?  How far is anywhere?
Not far enough.
I look down College, the city bus putts along as
Though it too has been affected.
My phone rings, I answer
Static. God Damnit, it might have been her
I look up, a family of pigeons dives towards our building
Never before had this scared me
Men with purple hearts, Carry silver guns hidden behind their sports coat
They stand on the street corners and watch.
I walk out of the shadows and into the sun.
Fall is approaching and a crisp breeze begins to blow down the street
I look around and all is at peace.
Does nature know something I don’t?
One more cigarette before Reba kills me
“Imagine there’s no heaven”
You got that right John.
No countries, no wars, and no religion
Right on, the words ring through my head
As if someone is positioned on the Bank of America building
Blaring the song throughout all of downtown.
All I ever need to know I learned from the Beatles
And Dylan, Dylan was good to
They warned us…they all warned us
Hell Sophocles and Aeschlyus warned us
But did we listen, too much fucking hubris for that.
Now 4,000 gone and counting
Will we learn now?
Or are we all still black and white?
Gay and straight?  Christian and Muslim?
When will we see that it’s all shit? We are merely human.
What’s she doing?  I bet she can see the shit from her window?
Better than Brokaw, better than Rather
She’s got the birdeyes view.  If I could only reach her.
Suddenly, I am once again paralyzed by the words of Lennon
Perhaps this will help us do away with the Puritanical myths
Maybe, we can live as one.
Teary eyed women come out of the building
And my dream is soon crushed.
I hear their rhetoric but I don’t comprehend
What is a “towel head”?
And how are they all responsible for this?
It’s a chance for the cowboy president
To gallop in the sunset
Showing that he is not just a daddies boy
Come on W give me direction
A lady from the TV station next door
Sticks her microphone in my face
Like some modern day phallic symbol
She asks me how it feels to be American
The only reply I can muster is:
“I am HUMAN and I need to be loved
Just like everyone else does.”
This monster was spawned in November
Our Supreme Court nurtured it
Our voters robbed…American voices muted
The legacy lives on.
Commercialism
Capitalism
Montheism—only if his name is Jesus though
These are the drugs that get pricks high.
Not in our names, the victims say
Fuck the victims our monster says.
Our generation, sold out
to the lies of AOL-Time Warner
To Viacom
To Turner Broadcasting
To Rupert Murdock
We gather together to discuss our
favorite Fox Anchor.
Our generation, desperately searching
We are the muted generation
Silenced by lusts, lies, lunacy
We desperately search for our voice
For our Ginsberg
For our Kerouac
For our Burroughs
I have no Carl Solomon to dedicate my words to,
Though I have seen “the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked.”
American boys bleeding in Baghdad
I see it every night
It’s the worlds greatest reality TV show
Who needs Simon…who needs Trista?
We only need War!
We only need Peter Arnette and Geraldo.
Aren’t these GI’s the ultimate American Idols?
Isn’t this the ultimate Fear Factor?
Survivor:Baghdad; churning out more widows
To replace Trista on the Bacherlotte
ABC must be thrilled
Reality for a reality starved nation
Reality void in our schools, our government
Our culture, our country
Somehow I know there’s more than a flag and a crown.
My dissent indicts me, fettered by the chains of fascism
Repressed
Oppressed
And Suppressed!
I press on, searching for an end to the apathetic, plastic smiles
Bitchy, little Bible beaters, beating down your back.
Fear and insecurity drive these animals
To make a misery out of humans life.
My soul polluted by their racist, homophobic, misogynic manifesto
The theatre, my sanctuary…I go there to cleanse myself
To expunge the evils they have tainted me with
They tell me of the American Dream
Even more lies to complicate a convoluted life
Fables of success and prosperity
Promised as inherent, intrinsic rewards
For those who devote their life to hard work, liberty, justice and ever important pursuit of happiness
Happiness?  HA!
What do they know of happiness?
Happiness is not obedience
But now, thanks to the November’s monster
These people control my life
Filling our court’s, our congress
Their pockets
We live in an age where progress is equated with evil
Regression is the goal of our generals
They tell us not to forget
And we won’t
For just as November spawned the monster
November can slay it as well.

Today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. It’s the type of day when you search for any sort of news story that will bring a smile to your face. I stumbled upon this story on the Tyler Morning Telegraph’s website. Initially, I was struck by the by-line that mentioned something about a homeowner holding a robber at gun point with his pants around his ankles. Once I got into the story, I learned that it was actually members of Earl Campbell’s family. I applaud the Campbell family for their heroic stand against this criminal low life.

I would like to announce the official launch of my political blog, CapitalistHipster.Com.

If you’re in the mood for some great political discussions, I invite you to drop by and share your thoughts.  Enjoy!

Geoausch