I’m a bitter Florida State Seminoles fan.
I’m bitter that no one on the face of the earth has had any idea what was going to happen when the Seminoles snapped the ball since Chris Weinke and Mark Richt left.
I’m bitter that James Fisher has held Florida State hostage for what will be the better part of a decade when Bobby Bowden finally walks away.
Offensive coaches that are paid millions of dollars yet fail to put up more than a field goal against Wake Forest at home don’t get nicknames.
I’m bitter that the Seminoles haven’t been able to win with future NFL standouts while the Gators have been stockpiling national championships with future gym teachers and an amateur Moyle.
I expect the same this season.
I barely even care if the ‘Noles win or lose now.
I’m consumed by my hatred of all things Gator and my dark fantasies.
It’s time for a heel turn in Gainesville. It’s time for Hulk Hogan to join the NWO. I want to see Tim Tebow knock over the Gatorade table after he’s pulled in the third quarter against Charleston Southern, and when he’s asked about it after the game I want to hear him say, “I’m tryin’ ta win a Heisman up in this bitch, and Urban straight hatin’!”
Better yet, I want to hear his new spiritual adviser Kevin Federline say it.
Instead of Philippians 4:13 spelled out on his eye black, I want to see it spelled out in diamonds on his Paul Wall custom grill.
I want him to get a huge tattoo on his back that reads “Only God Can Judge Me” above a giant crucifix.
I want to see Tebow scramble for a first down on third and long against Tennessee that will ice the game for the Gators, and cold cock Lane Kiffin, a reverse Woody Hayes.
I want to see Tebow stand up at the press conference after he posts bail wearing a t-shirt with “Snitches Get Stitches” written on the front, take it off, turn around, and show his back tattoo.
I want Jessica Simpson to become a Gator fan all of a sudden, and right before the SEC Championship game announce that she’s pregnant with Tebow’s baby.
I want to see a strangely shaken Erin Andrews ask Tim about it, and he’ll produce a medical record of his vasectomy performed in the Philippines. The cameras will go back to the Gameday desk with a strangely angry Bonnie Bernstein filling in for Chris Fowler.
Lee Corso will jump in with, “In the streets he’s T-Twice, but the ladies know him as T-Nice, yo.” The college football season will end with the undefeated Florida State Seminoles beating the Notre Dame Fighting Irish for the BCS Championship, and Bobby Bowden riding off into the sunset with a third title.
Unfortunately, I think that last sentence might be the most ridiculous thing said in this piece.
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