Check out the picture from the debacle of a field that graced the Cap One Bowl.
That’s just ugly.
Filed under Name That Caption
Scouts picked up the trail where I said it would be. It was not hard to find–a gigantic swath of torn-up ground extending to the horizon. The numbers it took to create this image was hard to imagine.
That is excellent.
That will be hard to top so I will not even try. I bow to your awesomeness.
Groo Wins, though I must say that the picture reminds me a lot of myself after a round of golf.
Helmet included of course
+1 for the helmet comment.
Brian Smith, son of Jim and Judy Smith, relaxes during halftime of last nights game.
The Kinchafoonee County Cougars cruised to a 21-3 victory over the Syrupmakers of Cairo.
The turf was nothing compared to the unnecessary roughness call at the end (instead of delay of game on PSU) that stripped LSU of any chance to try a field goal. Well played, umpire… well played.
Sorry for the long post. just had to add it
ARTHUR: Old woman!
ARTHUR: Old Man, sorry. What knight live in that castle over there?
DENNIS: I’m thirty seven.
DENNIS: I’m thirty seven — I’m not old!
ARTHUR: Well, I can’t just call you `Man’.
DENNIS: Well, you could say `Dennis’.
ARTHUR: Well, I didn’t know you were called `Dennis.’
DENNIS: Well, you didn’t bother to find out, did you?
ARTHUR: I did say sorry about the `old woman,’ but from the behind
DENNIS: What I object to is you automatically treat me like an inferior!
ARTHUR: Well, I AM king…
DENNIS: Oh king, eh, very nice. An’ how’d you get that, eh? By
exploitin’ the workers — by ‘angin’ on to outdated imperialist dogma
which perpetuates the economic an’ social differences in our society!
If there’s ever going to be any progress–
WOMAN: Dennis, there’s some lovely filth down here. Oh — how d’you do?
ARTHUR: How do you do, good lady. I am Arthur, King of the Britons.
Who’s castle is that?
WOMAN: King of the who?
ARTHUR: The Britons.
WOMAN: Who are the Britons?
ARTHUR: Well, we all are. we’re all Britons and I am your king.
WOMAN: I didn’t know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous
DENNIS: You’re fooling yourself. We’re living in a dictatorship.
A self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes–
WOMAN: Oh there you go, bringing class into it again.
DENNIS: That’s what it’s all about if only people would–
ARTHUR: Please, please good people. I am in haste. Who lives
in that castle?
WOMAN: No one live there.
ARTHUR: Then who is your lord?
WOMAN: We don’t have a lord.
DENNIS: I told you. We’re an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take
it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week.
DENNIS: But all the decision of that officer have to be ratified
at a special biweekly meeting.
ARTHUR: Yes, I see.
DENNIS: By a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs,–
ARTHUR: Be quiet!
DENNIS: –but by a two-thirds majority in the case of more–
ARTHUR: Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!
WOMAN: Order, eh — who does he think he is?
ARTHUR: I am your king!
WOMAN: Well, I didn’t vote for you.
ARTHUR: You don’t vote for kings.
WOMAN: Well, ‘ow did you become king then?
ARTHUR: The Lady of the Lake,
her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur
from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I,
Arthur, was to carry Excalibur.
That is why I am your king!
DENNIS: Listen — strange women lying in ponds distributing swords
is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power
derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical
ARTHUR: Be quiet!
DENNIS: Well you can’t expect to wield supreme executive power
just ’cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!
ARTHUR: Shut up!
DENNIS: I mean, if I went around sayin’ I was an empereror just
because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me they’d
put me away!
ARTHUR: Shut up! Will you shut up!
DENNIS: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.
ARTHUR: Shut up!
DENNIS: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system!
HELP! HELP! I’m being repressed!
ARTHUR: Bloody peasant!
DENNIS: Oh, what a give away. Did you here that, did you here that,
eh? That’s what I’m on about — did you see him repressing me,
you saw it didn’t you?
I think “Oh, ‘ere’s some lovely filth over ‘ere!” would do quite well.
The Last Man Kneeling
An exasperated #18 who mistakenly thought The Swamp was in Gainesville holds two closed fists of cornfeed to toss to lure the last of the wild hogs of metro-Orlando that rooted up the field while the other eleven wait for him to catch the last hog…
“Coach said if I sit here & wait long enough Les Miles will call a tunnel screen with the clock winding down.”
My Mom is going to be soooo mad….
#18 thinks back to the days when he the star ball carrier in the Evangeline Parish Rice Paddy Field Tiny-Mite League…
I can’t post pics here. Must be a setting in my browser, but there’s an old picture of Y.A. Tittle kneeling on the ground. Kind of similar.
You are right…
FL = Fun & Sun…this s#it ain’t fun! it’s cold, i just jammed my damn finger, and there’s sure as hell ain’t no sun!!!…
“Yeah, sooo umm….Coach Miles kicked me in the balls.”
I don’t know what you’re talking about, that’s a beautiful shot. Epitomizes everything I love about football. You can see how much he’s sold out and worked, and the field clearly shows the stain of battle. Great shot.
A rare color photo from the 1914 Marne Bowl between Penn State and LSU.
Ah, the ole 14′ Marne Bowl, Paterno’s twentieth PSU squad, the damage to the turf was done by the Paris taxi cabs bringing the French soldiers out to beat the Germans back from the very gates of the stadium.
He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when that corndog vendor showed up.
“Replace my divots?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“We have a long way to go to get to where we need to go,” Smart said. “That’s nothing to do with Oregon. That’s nothing to do with anybody we play. That’s to do with the Georgia Bulldogs...”-- Kirby Smart, AJ-C, 8/14/22
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