You know the feeling.
You rolled out of bed this morning and grabbed nine grapes, and a Super Big Gulp for breakfast. Your lunch hour came and went, but all you had time for was a bag of Doritos that had been in your drawer since last week, and a fun size Reese's Nutrageous.
You down another 44 ounces of some miscellaneous carbonated sugar beverage in the afternoon, and bum half a brownie off a coworker to wash it down.
It's now 7:30 pm, and you haven't had anything to eat all day but nutritionless crap, most of it in paltry portions.
In fact, it's not just hunger; you're bordering on starvation.
The lack of nourishment you are experiencing makes you feel ill, tired, woozy, and probably more than a little grumpy.
The longer you go without eating, the hungrier you get.
The more fluffy garbage you fill yourself with, the more fulfilling, rewarding, and utterly satisfying it becomes to finally enjoy something of substance.
Hunger is nothing more than a void that needs filling.
It was therefore, the perfect way to describe the sentiment that decades of dissatisfaction have cultured deep in the hearts (and stomachs) of the long-suffering football fans in Las Vegas.
Heck, the last few years have even been rough on short-suffering football fans.
Speaking on his impression of the Las Vegas community, and its support of the UNLV football program, head coach Bobby Hauck said the following:
"The people are receptive...I think they love college football. They're hungry "
That they are, Bobby.
The Rebel's new head coach knows that he can be successful here. Despite whining to the contrary from a handful of negative Nancies, a very good football program can blossom in the Southern Nevada desert.
It's not impossible.
The town is hungry. If Bobby Hauck can deliver the W's, the people of Las Vegas will line up to devour the product like pigs at the trough, or Midwestern tourists at the buffet.
Hauck didn't hesitate or equivocate in establishing the long term direction of the program.
"Before we're done, [my goal] is to compete for a conference championship."
That thought rings in the mind of Rebel fans like the sound of a sizzling fillet to a ravenous, emaciated, confederate wolf named Beauregard.
Hauck is right. Rebel fans are hungry. They're starving. Many of them are likely to literally drool helplessly all over their keyboard or remote control as they hear and see and ponder the possibility of a program turnaround.
It's up to Bobby Hauck to put his chef hat on, fire up the grill, and skillfully serve up a gourmet meal to Sam Boyd Stadium.
The town is wasting away. You can only survive so long, snacking on hollow, faux-food substitutes.
We've heard the sizzle.
Now please, Mr. Hauck, deliver the steak.
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