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Forget the pony
Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas this year is the above delivered to my mailbox. Do it, and I promise I won’t ask for anything else. If that’s too much to ask, how about a nice t-shirt?

Gone in 90 seconds
Appalachian’s first possession since December 15, 2006 went 74 yards in three plays, caped by a stunning 68-yard pass to a “sweet Dexter Coakley how did I get this open!” Dexter Jackson. And it lasted 90 seconds.

90.

Seconds.

Paris Hilton isn’t that easy (though she does have considerably more rust). In the time it took the lil’ National Champion That Could to prove that It Would, you could watch three Mastercard commercials back-to-back-to-back. (I like that sound of that, back-to-back-to-back).

He had the power
One of my first half highlights – spotting a player on the Michigan sideline named Zoltan Mesko. My buddy Japs elbows me asking, “Didn’t he used to fight He-Man?”

This is getting to be a habit
It’s hard to keep a good goal post up at Kidd Brewer. While shocked soccer players looked on, App students tore those poor things down again yesterday before Julian Rauch ever had a chance to split ‘em. (Remember how the last home game ended?)

They were also ripped down after the Furman playoff win in 2005, and after a regular season whooping of Georgia Southern in 2004 (or was it 2003?) when the Eagle bus was “accidentally” banged up a bit.

I have fond memories of the posts coming down way back in 1992 …. only it was to celebrate the Atlanta Braves going to the World Series (I kid you not). My have times have changed.

Mist-ifying
Throughout the second half, the Big Ten Network became obsessed with showing overheated Michigan players on the sidelines getting faces full of fan. On each occasion my buddy japs would loudly exclaim -

Ahhhh! The sweet, sweet mist of Division I-AA

The healing power of pussy
Michigan blog mgoblog went dark minutes after the game. A graphic blamed “technical difficulties.” The blog woke up today and, well, see for yourself.

I’m actually shocked Oscar hasn’t shown up.

Poetry in motion
Happiness is – witnessing five giant screen tvs and a dozen smaller screens all carrying the same crawl across the bottom, repeating on an endless loop. “BREAKING NEWS – APPALACHIAN STATE DEFEATS MICHIGAN 34-32.”

Don’t get cocky, kid
My buddy J called today. His first words – “You know what’s gonna happen now, dontcha. Lenoir-Rhyne’s gonna bite us in the butt. Just you watch.”

Sorry, don’t see it happening. Michigan is a known, proven chocker. The last times App chocked, it learned a lesson. Never again.

Ain’t that the truth
The perfect summation for yesterday’s big win can be summed up in a snide blog post published seven months ago. Behold the prognosticating power of The Feed –

At Least They Waited Until Gerald Ford Died To Do This

‘Nuff said.

Go Apps!!!!!

My mighty, mighty Mountaineers of Appalachian State tangle with big boy Michigan tomorrow in Ann Arbor. It’s a matchup of David versus Goliath’s older, larger big brother. Conventional wisdom has the Apps winning the Powerball before coming within three TDs of a 30-point first-half margin. But what if CV is wrong. What if … Appalachian wins. What would happen within that first hour?

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2007

3:35 p.m. – Scoreboard – ASU 24, Michigan 21.

3:35.01 p.m. – The joyous screams of 2,000 Black and Gold echo through the eeirily silent and stunned 107,000-packed stadium.

3:35.05 p.m. – Local authorities issue immediate suicide watch for surrounding counties, Bristol, Conn.

3:35.10 p.m. – “Bo” Schembechler’s body begins spinning, quickly hits 158 rpms.

3:35.40 p.m. – In attempt to flee further abuse, Chancellor Ken Peacock’s larynx leaps from his throat. Refuses reattachment for three weeks.

3:37 p.m. – ESPN calls stadium press box for 16th time in past five minutes, asking “Are you sure you have that score right?”

3:37.30 p.m. – GoASU.com blows up.

3:37.40 p.m. – Phone lines to ASU ticket office catch fire, melt.

3:37.50 p.m. – Deadspin’s “The Hugh Johnson Project” is quickly renamed the “Jim Bob Norman Project,” as the mohawked one’s legend grows. (Line – 7 receiving yards, 15 ovations, one successful ignition of “The Wave”)

3:38 p.m. – ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN news, ESPN Classic and ESPN Ocho all cut live to a stunned Rece Davis reporting – “From Ann Arbor, Michigan, the flash, apparently official (looking to paper): No. 5 ranked Michigan lost to Appal-LAY-chin State at 3:35 p.m. eastern standard time, (looking off-camera at a clock) some three minutes ago.”

3:39 p.m. – ESPN phone system crashes due to irate Mountaineers calling and screaming, “It’s Appa-LATCH-un!!”

3:40 p.m. – Thirty-three million football fans join Miss South Carolina Teen in successfully locating Boone, N.C. on the map.

3:40.30 – LSU AD Skip Bertman overheard whispering, “Woooo! That was close.”

3:41 p.m. – Schembechler hits 458 rpms, friction sets casket on fire.

3:43 p.m. – Voice of the Mountaineers David Jackson has yet to take a breath, continues to scream “Mountaineers win!! Mountaineers win!!” live on-air. His listeners busy doing same.

3:43.30 p.m. – Appalachian coach Jerry Moore gives first post-game interview, sets record for use of the word “deal” within 90 seconds. Becomes immediate frontrunner in race of governor of North Carolina.

3:42 p.m. – Police called to forcibly remove Katie Bonk from field, specifically from the field goal posts she refuses to release as she screams, “Yosef is your Daddy!! Yosef is your Daddy!!“

3:45 – Coach of defending ACC “champion” Wake Forest overheard giving thanks to the Almighty, “Thank you for making me scared to play them, Lord. And praise you for having Duke in our conference. Thy will be done.”

3:49 p.m. – Michigan coach Lloyd Carr submits resignation, awaits military escort so he can exit stadium.

3:49.30 p.m. – First report of looting in downtown Ann Arbor, as vandals descend onto local Finish Line, force employees at gunpoint to refund all Michigan merchandise without receipt.

3:50 p.m. – Student mob invades vacant Kidd Brewer Stadium, tears down both goalposts, field house balcony, scoreboard and 20 square yards of FieldTurf. Upon hearing news, Charlie Cobb is shocked – They only ripped up 20 square yards.

3:51 p.m. – Appalachian Marching Band takes field, begins playing “Our House.” Nothing but dancing black and gold around them. Random packs of Michigan fans slowly leave stadium, only 50% are aware of where they’re going.

3:53 p.m. – Jason Hunter begins searching Packers lockerroom for Charles Woodson, can’t find him. (He’s located three days later under his bed, asleep sucking his thumb.)

3:56 p.m. – TheWolverine.com goes black, announces hiatus. No new posts until spring football begins.

3:59 p.m. – North Carolina hospital reports first of 15 babies born this day named “CoCo.”

3:50 p.m. – Winston-Salem Journal editors begin planning front-page Appalachian State spread headlined iin 200-point type “Our House,” along with 125-inch Rawlings column and 20-page, 30-photo color insert special edition. Extensive followups also planned for Monday’s paper.

3:51 p.m. – Charlotte Observer editors make space on C15 for three-paragraph recap. Later cut box score due to lack of space.

3:52 p.m. – First recorded instance of words “Armanti” and “Heisman” used in same sentence, alluding to his 240 yards on 22-31 passing, 140 yards rushing, 1 TD, 1 INT effort. Lee Corso later blames comment on severe lack of sleep, secret allergy to Herb Street.

3:54 p.m. – Schembechler hits 1,643 rpms, wind sheer begins sucking nearby trees, cars toward him.

3:56 p.m. – Beer shortage announced in Boone, surrounding eight-county area. Local ABC Boards begin rationing.

3:57 p.m. – Michael Vick overheard telling attorney, “Life could be worse. Could’ve been playing for Michigan today.”

3:59 p.m. – Minimum 13 NFL teams immediately assign scouts permanently to Boone, order draft day placards for Corey Lynch (2 INT, 15 tackles, 4 broken-up passes) and Kevin Richardson (2 TDS, 210 yards, three wedding proposals).

4:00 p.m. – CBS Radio chimes in with top-of-the-hour headlines. ASU win leads the news. Latest in Sen. Larry Craig bathroom scandal forced to second billing – Finally.

4:05 p.m. – Tony Kornheiser calls Coach Moore, begs he give PTI “Five Good Minutes” Monday. Moore agrees only if Tony conducts interviews dressed like this. Tony agrees, no problem.

4:06 p.m. – Director John Milius begins planning for a re-mastering of his 1984 classic. Will now dub over heros war cry with “Mountaineers!”

4:09 p.m. – Weather Channel reports tornado warnings for great Ann Arbor area, as Schembechler’s spinning sucks his grave into the light, a la Carol Anne.

4:11 p.m. – Governor of Ohio calls emergency session of state assembly, declares “Appalachian State University Day” throughout state with parade scheduled through Columbus.

4:12 p.m. – Appalachian Marching Band finally leaves the field. Yet 75,000 stunned Blue fans remain in their seats, too numb to move. An estimated 20,000 never leave, spend the night. Finally removed the next day with tranq darts, cattle prods.

4:14 p.m. – First reports surface of sudden antidepressent shortages in Greenville, S.C., Statesboro, Ga.

4:15 p.m. – ABC announces it will add Oct. 20 ASU-GSU game in Boone to national broadcast schedule. (Okay, now that’s a bit of a stretch)

Go Apps!

College football games attract thousands of fans. Not all are there for the football. Pick at random 12 fans in the stands, and you’ll find they’re there for reasons as varied as the seasons. By that standard, you can actually classify college football fans as you would holidays. Here’s a quick guide to today’s fan, as defined by those special days on the calendar.

Christmas fans
You greet game day with the giddiness of a six-year-old girl expecting a pony downstairs on Christmas morn. Throughout breakfast and shower you’re humming fight songs like carols. You’re decorated in school colors, as are your family, your yard and, quite possibly, your dog. On the way to the stadium your car flies more flags then the UN building, and your collection of car magnets threaten to pull street signs out the ground. You greet everyone – even opposing fans – with a huge smile, high five and an occasional akward chest bump. It’s game day, baby. Wooooooooooo. Every play is a present. Fumble? For me? That’s okay. It’s the thought that counts. Touchdown! Just what I always wanted! Win or lose you go home happy. You may not have gotten the exact gift for which you asked, but Coach Santa comes again next week. God bless us, everyone.

Thanksgiving fans
Every home game you become TGI Saturdays. You get to the stadium as early as possible. Before the engine cools you have the grill hot. If the smell of chicken, steak and bratwurst doesn’t draw attention, your setup does – tent, lights, TV, 25 feet high flag poles and AC/DC in the speakers. You expect next year to have amitronic fieldgoal posts. You cook enough to feed 11 William Perrys, and invite anyone who passes by to grab a plate. You talk smack, pat friends on the back and stay on the attack with opposing fans, jestfully. When you’ve cut loose your last burp all is right with the world. In the stadium you kick back and watch some football free of commercials or nagging to do the dishes. You’re not too vocal or interested, but you feel fine. The pregame was the meal. This is all dessert.

Valentine’s Day fans
You’re at the game for one reason – you were dragged there by your significant misguided other. Exhibit A, my wife. She cares not for sports, especially football, but she cares for me and knows I enjoy it. So she goes to the occasional game more out of emotional obligation than fanatical motivation. She cheers when I cheer, boos when I boo, and attempts to keep at a minimum questions like, “why isn’t there a fifth down?” and “can we go now?” This day also covers the young lovers in the stands on a date .. or proposal (that photo is from NC State’s season opener). Football games are an opportunity to break the cliché of dinner and a movie, and the outcome on the field carries less significance than the outcome back at the apartment. Just beware the personal foul.

Wedding Day fans
It’s three minutes to kickoff and you’re already hoarse. You are so nervous. Your team has got to win this game – it’s just GOT TO – or you’ll burst into tears and run to your bedroom in wet-eyed hysterics. Everything about this day has to be perfect. Every pass. Every throw. Every kick. GET ‘EM! I SAID GET ‘EM, CAN’T YOU F’N HEAR ME!! DAMN! Even when your team’s up 20 with six minutes to go you’ve got no confidence in a win. You expect to be stoodup, not because the team’s weak but because your temperment is. Should they punt or go for it. Punt or go? Punt or go? You can’t decide so you cover your eyes and pray. You peek through your fingers. They’re going for it!! YES!!! YES!! YES!!! But oh no, there’s still four minutes to go .. oh woe is me …woe is me! I just wish this was over with …

Easter fans
Your team is dead. Hasn’t had a winning season since Clinton. Yet you have faith. Today could be the day the program rises again. You trudge to the stadium more out of ritual than desire, much like you do the annual sunrise service. Once the game starts you seek some sign your faith is not misplaced. But you’re also a sadomasicist, secretly reveling in each fumble and miscue. You need the pain to make your faith more precious. You stick around through the third quarter, but duck out midway through the fourth when the coach isn’t looking. Unless your team is leading. Then you get loud and proud. This could be it! It isn’t. But still you believe. Some call you a fool, but you ignore them. Football is the true god, not that damn Easter Bunny of a basketball program with its colorful basket of trophies and Final Fours. One day you’ll witness that gridiron resurrection. One day ….

Halloween fans
It’s not a football game, it’s a costume contest! Giant puff ball wigs. Letters on your bare chest. A full-body keg outfit. School colored mardi gra beads worn al la Mr. T. You’ve done it all. You love your team as much as you love attention. You’re a famous symbol of school spirit and people enjoy shoving free food and drink your way, just for you being you. Every camera finds you, and you’ve stared in half a dozen local television highlight packages. You’re good natured when drunk or supremely extroverted when sober. Either way, you make your presence known. You are never forgotten … until you outgrow college games and move on to the NFL. Then someone more outrageous takes your place.

Spring Break fans, male
The football field’s a beach and man the women are fine! You’ve been drinking since the night before and your breath could bleach Chris Fowler’s hair. You also haven’t yet met an alcohol prohibition you couldn’t beat, as evidenced by the four airplane bottles hidden in your boxer briefs and the two bottles in your woman’s ponytails. Sample game quote “Go Cocks! GOOO!!! COCKS!!! WHOOOOOOO! Whoa, that girl is hot! Dude, check her out. Damn! Go Cocks. GOOOOO COCKS!! YEAH! YEAH! … I think I’m gonna pass out. RALPH!! .. gasp .. gasp .. I’m okay. Whew. Gimmie another one … GOOOOOOOO! CCOOOCCKKKSS” You don’t remember the game, much less your name. You were there to see and be seen in that ancient college mating ritual of getting f’ed up and lookin to hookup. I hate you all.

Spring Break fans, female
Much the same as male, only you’re half naked and tan. I love you all.

St. Patrick’s Day fans
Similar to Spring Break males, only you’re over the age of 30 and not an embarrassment.

Cinco de Mayo fans
You’ll go to any game anywhere just for the atmosphere, even if you have no clue as to the history of the programs or their rivalry. You just love football and beer.

Veterans Day fans
Football is a metaphor for war. You revel in the violence. You follow each play with the intensity of a NASCAR fan watching a race, just waiting for that special moment the linebacker gets loose and puts the tailback in the wall. There it is! Wow. Did you hear that! But wait! If it was one of your players, you put your cap to your heart. If it was an opponent – Hell yeah! Our house, baby! For that day’s opponent is your sworn enemy. Their fans are Al-Qaeda in fleece. They are shown no respect. You vandalize their vehicles, curse their children and threaten harm at a moment’s notice. None of it is a joke. You’re dead serious. And you scare me.

Memorial Day fans
You attend every game, home and away. Former players are your heroes. You collect media guides, which you hold with the same reverence due the flag. Ticket stubs are framed with the care of medals. You can recount the most obscure players and plays at a moment’s notice, and do so often and without prompting. You are also unfailingly supportive of the coach and the program, no matter the record or scandal. To be otherwise would dishonor the program, and that you would never do. Besides, often you are the scandal.

Devil’s Night fans
You aren’t great in number, but I’ve witnessed your acts. You are the buzzards which circle the stadium during the game. Kickoff is nothing more than a dark porch light with no cars in the driveway. You steal what you can, destroy what you find and basically find pleasure in destruction. You occasionally sneak into the stadium, but only to punk out. If the game ends in a goalpost-breaking frenzy, you use the celebratory crowd as a mask to go Jackass on anyone and anything. You all deserve to die, and I hope you all burn in hell. Odds are, you hope so as well.

Tax Day fans
The ball is on the 8-yard-line on third down and you fear the worst because the offense is a sorry 4-of-24 on third-down conversions this season. The QB is 4-of-12 passing and the TB is averaging just 2.3 yards a play, while damnit the tight end has dropped one pass and ran out of bounds with another and the fullback is worthless cause he weighs only 235 and runs a 4.9 in the 40 and will never break that defensive line and its average weight of 320, give or take an outside tackle. That’s the largest line your team’s been up against since 1999 when they played that squad from upstate in the sixth game of the season while 4-1 and won 21-20. You mentally – and often scriptally – catalogue every play and game nuance. After the whistle you rush home against an imaginary deadline to be the first to note on the message board DID YOU SEE THAT PLAY in the second quarter when the linebacker dropped back two yards and the center didn’t see him, resulting in a tackle for loss of 2.3 yards, which dropped the team’s average yards per play to 3.4, last in the league at that point in time. That coach ought to be fired! Fired, I type!

Labor Day fans
This is a shout-out to those who work the games. Most of the home team beat reporters and photographers love the squad like a mistress, but have to act uncommitted when the wife (ie. press box bosses) pass by. . They can’t cheer or wear their favorite shirt, the one they snagged free from the leftovers at the end of last season, but they wink when the home team scores and grimace when the visitors break off a 65-yard gain. They’re gentle with the team after a loss, unless they want the coach fired. Then the sixth sack of the game will run five columns on the front page of the sports section with a capped headline in bold playing off the words “Beat down.” Weep for them. It’s a lonely life.

UPDATE: Thanks Will! In return I’ll pull for Illinois tomorrow. Let’s see. Who are they playing. Hmmm. Syracuse, whose fan board also linked here, thanks to Deadspin. Geez … what to do. What to do. I guess I’ll root for the Buzzsaw Sunday instead.