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an LSU friend's write up our game with them
You know that feeling you get when you smoke a bowl of
premium hash and stare at a bonfire all night? Or the feeling you have
gazing at the hospital's giant aquarium after electroconvulsive therapy?
That's what the LSU-Auburn game made me feel like. I know I saw the
game and I have an impression of it. I just don't remember the details.
My skull was numbed.
Fortunately, I'm a huge fan of precision
punting. Derek Helton and Josh Jasper were superb. When a boomer was
needed, Helton boomed. When a surgical strike was ordered, the punters
(and Ron Brooks) delivered. Auburn was pinned down deep in its own
territory for most of the game, unless you count the parts of the game
where Auburn's offense took the field. Once Auburn took over on
offense, I entered a fugue.
As far as I can tell, the fugues
were triggered by a creature wearing #2 on his time-travel suit. He was
some kind of cyborg sent here from the future, a time when all college
quarterbacks are 6'6" tall, weigh 250 lbs., and run like the offspring
of mutant gazelles mated with locomotives. While technically
unstoppable, #2 was programmed to stop himself using something akin to
compassion. This #2 or "Cam," as he's referred to by his manufacturer,
willed himself not to score on every play. He was even wired to take a
knee near LSU's goal line at the end of the game. I remember thinking: I
have a want for one of those Cam units. I wasn't alone in this either.
I saw in the stands an attractive Auburn co-ed waving a sign that
read: "Cam For Husband." It would not surprise me if Cam hooked up with
her after the game and soiled her with a chizik shot right between the
eyes.
Back to the present. Our own quarterbacks are human, too
human. Waaaayyy too human. They stunk. But they didn't get a lot of
help either. Auburn borrowed from the zoo a rogue bull elephant named
Fairley and, well, he wasn't trained to play nice. He repeatedly
trampled our offensive line, throwing people around with his trunk.
Terrence Toliver wore mittens and none of the receivers blocked well.
And while Auburn's Offensive Coordinator was running a finely-tuned
offense using a complex signal-calling method, Gary Crowton was reading
the entrails of chickens and signaling his divinations using
hand-puppets. Crowton did take a serendipitous bathroom break and, in
his absence, T-Bob Hebert called a halfback pass.
I made a list of things LSU needs:
1) A Cam.
The End.
