Off-Season and Off-Pitch: A Gator Growl in Need of Autotune

If you were to meet me by week 5 of the college football season,  you would be greeted by a girl fully enraptured in the depths of football bliss.  A girl who would engage you in a discourse on the potential global implications of the Pac 10 restructuring, and its consequences on everything from the resurgence of the Taliban to the possibility of a Chris Brown comeback.  I would be awash in random, completely unsubstantiated opinions based upon actual, yet trivial, ESPN breaking news.  If I were a guy, you’d feel the need to go all alpha-male on me and show off your completely pointless awareness, but instead, my femininity will allow you to be mildly entertained by my broad range of superficial information, and somewhat endeared by my inevitable proclamations of “but then again, what do I know?  What do YOU think?”  In the middle of football season, my charm is unmatched.

But then the offseason arrives.  I find myself forgetting the cumulative weight of UF’s offensive line, and instead only can recall numbers associated with illegal cash payouts by agents in violation of NCAA regulations (Then again, I never forget how to spell Maurkice).  When someone brings up the upcoming season, the only words that I can formulate in conversation usually include something along the lines of “Totally!  And Lane Kiffen Sucks!”, without any recollection of the details as to why he sucks.  Luckily, it seems that most people agree that he does, so my inability to logically support the statements seems to go unnoticed.

My other 'go-to' lines include:

1. ".. and man!  If only Carlos Dunlap would have called me that night...I could have changed history."  

2. "I think I'm suffering from the same paralyzing ailment Urban experienced upon realizing Tebow was gone... or else it's the cold reality of having graduated and not having a job....No...wait.  Yeah...it's definitely the Tebow leaving thing." and

3. "The Jacksonville Jaguars are idiots"

My ability to fake my awareness sometimes even baffles me. I’m not sure what happens in this offseason that I grow so latent in awareness, so truly empty of the triviality that once entertained me.  I feel like I should blame the cast of Glee this year, especially you, Lea Michele, with your infectious mashups and witty show-choir humor.   You appeal to my inner love of showtunes, undeniable desire to be psychically in concert with the pop culture consciousness,  and need to CHEER FOR SOMETHING.  I made a replica William McKinley High School show-choir jersey and wore it to a season finale party.  We drank Natty light and ate 5Star pizza...and Pokey Stix.  Wait, isn’t this football?  The experience left me confused and uneasy.  I’m not sure of anything anymore.   I’m not sure I can distinguish my fanaticism over a well scripted, attractively casted show, which seems to have been written by people slightly ignorant over how true competitions and tournaments are structured,  with my adoration for a Fox sitcom about glee club.  

And now, I can’t help but wonder if perhaps Olivia Newton John and Josh Groban aren’t the ones voting in the USA Today Coaches Poll.

Each year it grows worse, that realization that I know near nothing about the season on the horizon.   I think I still know who I’m supposed to hate.  Notre Dame.  Yes yes!  I don’t like them.  But wait?  Who’s their coach?  It doesn’t matter.  It never matters .. Oh wait!  Brian Kelly! I remember now.  I hate Brian Kelly.  It’s all coming back to me now.  I’m Celine Deon, but instead of a 6 minute long pop-opera ballad recalling the death of my motorcycle enthused boyfriend while I run through a poorly lit castle, I am sitting at a small desk in my parent’s three bedroom home in the suburbs of Tampa, having flash backs to the treachery of Brian Kelly’s early retreat from Cincinnati.  Watch out for falling firey tree limbs Brian.  Watch out.

But what happens when I forget the basic truths in college football.  Like, how much younger I am than Kirk Herbstreit  (I think a 14 year age gap is not inappropriate at all), or who Boise State beat in their BCS bowl game  last season.   What happens when I forget how many bean bags are in a cornhole set, or how to play flip cup?  What happens if I forget that Bobby Bowden isn’t coaching the Seminoles anymore, and for some reason Bobby Bowden REMEMBERS.  

Will I be able to fake it then?  Will I always be able to fall back on cliches and popular talking points?

If not, can I  break into a heavily autotuned medleys of Journey standards instead?  

“Hey Jenn.   What do you think of the chances of USC actually doing alright this year?”
“Some will win.  Some will lose.  Some were born to sing the blues.”
“Huh?”
“Uhhhh.  Errr.. Oh yeah.  Lane Kiffen Sucks.”
“Totally.”