College Football: Bleacher Report Christmas and Holiday Party Revealed

BabyTateSenior Writer IDecember 22, 2008

The rooms were reserved, the table was set, and the refreshments were plenty as dozens of would-be celebrities filed into the Ramada Inn. "Five will get you 10 BT has spiked the Egg Nog," proclaimed MiamiMitch as he and the High Priestess of Pigskin huddled in an open corner.

"Don't be foolish, Mitch, he knows this crowd has to maintain some sense of self-control," answered Lisa.

Barreling into the room were some size 15 boots. "I know who those belong to," piped up Timothy, "and the rest of Justin will be in here in another few seconds." "Where is the buffet? My wife says I have to be home by nine o'clock," bellowed the LSU giant.

Standing in the hall, immersed in conversation, were David and James discussing how badly Meyer will out-coach Stoops in the title game. Just as they were coming to an agreement, a voice shrieked from behind the curtain, "Watch out for Kansas—next year will make three national championships in a row!"

"Will you get outta here?" pleaded the Gators' big-timers. "Just wait and see," taunted the legendary Jayhawks cheerleader.

Isaac commented that "people should not be so wrapped up in their team." "True, so true," added Red Raider.

Stepping forward was a man in a purple hat with a dark blazer, white shirt, and tie. "Fellas, when it's all against you, you get a boat, a bottle of good stuff, and head out on Lake Pontchartrain to clear your mind."

"But I'm only 15 years old and I live a thousand miles from Louisiana," Isaac said. "Ike buddy," said Brian, putting his arm around the shoulders of the young writer, "you come down to Baton Rouge for a night game, and we'll show you the difference between Happy Valley and Death Valley."

"But you know next year is our year," exclaimed Tim. "Oh, stop it," said QualkTalk. While that hundred-year-old conversation intensified, Franklin and 12 stepped up to the microphone to explain that Zander would like to say a few words.

At this point it became apparent that congratulations were in order, but instead he cracked a joke about the civility of members with no personal avatar.

Zander also advised the group that more future articles should feature the San Francisco Giants. "But we're college football writers," offered Reverend Will. "Details, details," answered the great one.

While awards were being given out to Lisa for Best Writing, Gray Ghost for Originality, and Mosang for Outstanding Editing, a request from SportMonk to address the floor was granted. He informed the room that "the Big 12 should be awarded Performers of the Year." There was some general agreement to that comment.

Kent, Michael, HD, and Kristofer took to the stage to serenade the party with a live version of "Hang On Sloopy," while Alex informed the crowd that "numerous insurance and safety violations were occurring." J. Michael advised that "B/R writers should use their position to promote a playoff system."

Right on cue appeared Dr. Scott with specific plans to operate a 16-team playoff, while Georgia Dawg, Robert, and Volunteer Brian told the group "the Heisman system is broken and it must be fixed." Oh, if they could just get their hands on Marcus Allen and Charles Woodson.

The merrymakers continued to trip the light fantastic until early in the morning. "It's not late—it's three hours earlier than this in California," explained J.C., while Brad and Cliff wanted to know when the next pick 'em contest was coming out.

Late in the evening, while groups of great penmanship filed out wishing each other "good will toward men," a man named for a powerful force of reason and respect in the old country spoke up on behalf of the oppressed Irish fans in this country.

"Notre Dame may not finish with a Top 25 ranking this season, but it is only a matter of time before the reality of an Irish national championship," he said. "That's the way it has always been."

Paying the remaining tab and returning the keys, I noticed a lone person under the street light, commencing to odd man with himself. It was none other than my old friend Mitch. "Walk with me to my car," I asked. And just like he has all year, the man from Miami is there when you need him, to help whenever he can.

I hope we can do it again next year.