This past weekend, I traveled to Norman, OK to watch the Sooners take on the Tennessee Volunteers with some friends.
Among them was my radio partner Ted Johnson, a three time Super Bowl champion and 10 year NFL player from 1995-2004. Ted and I started doing our show together, along with Rich Lord, back in March, and we were talking about what's been good and bad the first several months of our show.
The first thing Ted brought up was this: "Dude, I just can't believe how serious and 'non-sports' the subject matter is that we've had to discuss. I feel beaten down some days, like everything we talk about is more life-related or crime-related than sports-related."
You know what? Ted's absolutely right.
Think about these last four or five months, and what have been the preeminent topics that everybody has been talking about?
Michael Sam acclimating himself to an NFL locker room as the first openly gay player, Donald Sterling's racist remarks and sale of his NBA team (which have now dovetailed into a racism scandal with the Atlanta Hawks), Ray Rice (and numerous other NFL players) smacking around his significant other, and now this Adrian Peterson child abuse situation.
Locally, baseball hasn't come close to holding up its end of the bargain in giving us a welcomed distraction, since the only time we discuss the Astros is when they have a security leak in their database, they botch the signing of a first round pick, or they fire their manager.
This is some heavy shit. We need to laugh, and we need to laugh, like, RIGHT NOW!
Thankfully, there is always LSU.
You can always count on LSU at football season, most of the time because Les Miles is their head coach and his press conferences are always -- ALWAYS -- gold.
(SIDE BAR: True story, when we were in Norman this weekend, we all stayed at my buddy Wallis' house. There were probably a dozen of us at the house, and we spent the afternoon Saturday watching football on Wallis' four living room TV's. [DOUBLE SIDE BAR: Best. Living room. Ever.] Somehow, the conversation circled around to how awesome Les Miles is, and somehow we all wound up watching old Les Miles press conferences on one of the TV's. This is WHILE FOOTBALL WAS GOING ON. The moral of the story -- nobody is better than Les Miles.)
However, LSU is also good for the occasional foible surrounding the game, be it in the stands or at any one of the thousands of tailgate parties. This weekend, Baton Rouge gave us both ends of the emotional spectrum.
As seen in yesterday's "4 Winners, 4 Losers" column, there was LOVE....
....and as seen below, there was HATE....
Ok, maybe "hate" is a little strong. There was "booze-fueled, Southern frat boy sissy fighting."
The video is only 14 seconds long, but I think it deserves mini-Zapruder treatment and inclusion in the "Fan Fighting League" portion of the Pendergast archive, albeit the equivalent of an FFL D-League, where "D" stands for "douche bag."
0:00.3 -- There are two things that must be pointed out at the beginning of this video. First, the camera man who is shooting this from a selfie angle so as to inject himself into the shot. Normally, I would call this guy's production method "self serving and annoying." In the case of this video, I call it "awesome." He manages to say so much while saying nothing. Someday, if I ever find a backer for my viral video awards show, this dude will be nominated for an award in cinematography. Selfie filming. Awesome.
Second, the burgeoning seeds of the fight brewing in the background. I count no fewer than a dozen LSU frat boys, all wearing the exact same Dockers/untucked white shirt/tie ensemble. It's what Emperor Palpatine's clone army would look like if Coruscant were located in SEC country and Jango Fett were Jay Cutler. (Yes, that analogy rated a 12.2 out of 10 on the "How did you ever get laid?" scale, I know.)
One last thing -- Underrated? The one dude in the upper right corner of the shot standing over the prone guy in the yellow t-shirt, almost protecting him from the douche army like a stray animal they found on the side of the road.
0:01 -- We have our first actual fighting footage of the clip, with one of the Southern Stormtroopers putting some cretin in shorts and purple shirt into a front face lock. This spurs one of the douche troopers to begin kicking the purple clad victim with left foot loafer bumps that would have a hard time breaking a frame of tissue paper, let alone a human rib cage.
0:03 -- Cameraman gives us an acknowledging wave, cigarette firmly embedded between index and middle finger. I love this guy!
0:06 -- One Douche Clone who has a full on beard, like old school Johnny Damon, begins dragging the guy in the purple shirt away from the fracas so he can take a turn with him one on one. It's like Johnny Damon wanted the "private lap dance" version of "let me beat the shit out of you." But out of nowhere...
0:08 -- ....BOOM!!! In comes some dude in Dockers and a light purple shirt whose signature way of protecting his buddy appears to be the ol' "hurl myself at you and hope for the best" body block, a staple for those of us who have no idea how to use our fists to resolve anything.
0:10 -- Keep an eye out for a small weasel-like dude who runs into the shot looking to fight with somebody (NOTE: Dude might be 58 pounds, tops.), looks around for a target with a "Whichwaydidhego...Whichwaydidhego..." look on his face, has a buddy point someone out to him, and then he runs out of the shot to undoubtedly go get his ass kicked.
0:11 -- Camera man just shakes his head, and the smirk on his face tells the whole story -- white people are ridiculous sometimes.
(h/t The Big Lead)
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