Big Game Bob is back! No. No. No. Hell no.
Oklahoma stunned the football world when they throttled KU on Halloween. I’ve heard this Sooners D is legit. I also saw the Sooners D allow only seven points to a KU offense powered by a running back, Ke’aun Kinner, who has a whopping 390 yards rushing this season. Ryan Willis, a QB, is bringing up the KU rushing rear with -87 yards rushing on the season. As a team, KU is averaging 107.5 rushing YPG while their opponents rush the rock at a clip of 247 rushing YPG. KU is rushing like a hipster sprinting toward employment. The Jayhawks have only scored 17 total touchdowns this season while their opponents have torched them to the tune of 47.
In another compelling ass whipping, OU beat KSU 55-0 in Manhattan. This is the same KSU defense which allows their opponents a 63.9% rate of completions. Their offense, unfortunately for the Fighting Snyders, is completing their passes at a 45.6% rate. Yes, these two victories solidify the return of Big Game Bob.
Let’s look at the Sooners remaining schedule. After that, I’ll give the class a history lesson which will coincide with the title of this article.
On 11/7, OU has ISU in Norman. I know this is the same ISU team that smoked Texas 24-0, the same Texas team that handed OU their only loss of the season. OU should roll the Cyclones. I expect ISU to put up a fight about as much as I expect a booty call from Rihanna. Hey, you can’t beat that.
And now we gaze upon Baylor’s gorgeous stadium nestled against the banks of the Brazos River. Honest to God, I’d rather watch Jameis Winston compete in a spelling bee moderated by Porky Pig on meth than watch this impending slaughter. This game will have me shaking, sweating, and cursing like Gary Busey attempting to complete a MENSA In the penultimate regular season game, TCU will visit Norman. The Horned Frogs defense isn’t as stellar as in seasons past, but “Big Game Bob” (B3) is, sadly for Sooners fans, still paying income taxes in the state of Oklahoma. This game is going to get uglier than a Rosie O’Donnell sex tape. The View is hideous, you say?
When it comes to Bedlam, I feel as if I should begin a repeated recitation of The Lord’s Prayer right now. As I write this, OSU is undefeated and extremely confident. I initially picked OU to win Bedlam this year, despite knowing B3 makes me shake like a wet dog in a blizzard. There is no way I can see B3 spoiling a potential OSU playoff spot. I can see OSU sprinting past OU by 17.
This is where I would normally end my article, but I received a rather disturbing text from a friend yesterday. He sent me a pic of an email his professor sent to all the students in my friend’s class. If you want to see the pic, I posted it to Twitter under the following hashtags: #LiberalTolerance and #CityOfChampions.
Basically, this professor cannot stop at agreeing to disagree; rather, this person completely trashed anyone who dare disagree with him. The teacher said sports aren’t important, someone will win the World Series next year, blah, blah, and blah.
So, sports aren’t important in your delusional, arrogant, and omniscient gospel, professor? Perhaps you should say that to the face of the lady I saw crying on the news last night. She is 58-years-old and her son is 31. She took him to the Series in 1985, but being only one-year-old at the time, he can’t remember any of it. She was crying because she and her adult son attended a game last week. Oh yeah, also in attendance was her grandchild.
Professor, do you think the story of Edinson Volquez is stupid? His father died a few minutes before he took the bump for game 1 last Tuesday, but his wife told Ned Yost not to tell him because his dad would want him to go to work and do his job. By the way, KC won an epic battle that lasted 14 innings Tuesday evening.
Maybe this professor thinks it was crazy that I was screaming at my TV for 2+ hours last July when our USWNT hammered Japan 5-1 in the World Cup. I guess he doesn’t know the USWNT had a meltdown in the 2011 final against Japan and lost on penalty kicks. I guess I should be ashamed for having pride in our republic and our ladies.
Professor, Michael Jordan clearly should have called you to seek permission to cry in 1996. As I watched the game at a restaurant in Brunswick, Georgia, I saw MJ screaming, crying, and convulsing on the basketball floor as he held the game ball in a bear hug. Pippen tried to console him, but to no avail. Rodman attempted to comfort him, but he quickly realized that was futile. Phil Jackson, being like a second father to MJ, knew to let Michael run the gamut of emotions. You see, Michael’s Chicago Bulls had just defeated Seattle to win the 1996 NBA Championship. This victory occurred on Father’s Day. Michael’s father was murdered, and the last game he ever saw MJ play was the series-clinching game 6 defeat of Phoenix in 1993. Professor, I’ll give you my next 15 paychecks if you have the balls to read your email to Michael’s face.
Bottom line: sports teach us competition to prepare us for the real world, which is antithetical to the tenured liberal utopia of academia. Sports also help us to hone our social skills. Sports teach us how to appreciate victory proudly and respectfully, and they also teach us to embrace defeat like men and women. You will never agree with everything I write, and guess what, that’s perfectly fine. I am sitting here in the public library typing this paper in the City of Champions, Kansas City, Missouri. Just ten feet away from me at the desk, I see a little boy wearing a Salvy jersey and a smile that won’t be wiped away for weeks. I work on the Country Club Plaza and I must tell you people are losing their minds (in a good way). They are losing their minds because 30 years of embarrassing suffering was lifted Sunday night by a group of men who refused to allow this city to be let down once again.
Finally, professor, I would love to stay here and destroy your narrow-minded hatred with continued facts, numerical data, logic, common sense, and human decency, but I’m going to go watch the 2015 World Series victory parade with my dog. Daddy’s on his way home, Milo.
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