Saludos, all my Surly brethren and sistren. My beloved football team is in free fall and Crimson Robespierres are hooking up the old guillotine and cranking up the coaching search engine. Again, same as it ever was. I still die a little when we lose. At 74, that steaming heap of manure yesterday didn’t help. I have learned not to dwell on the losses, especially when the opponent plays with more (apparent) effort and preparation.
After Ray Perkins’ first year, a dear friend of mine who had a lucrative contract to roof, maintain and reroof all the buildings on the UA campus, said, not kidding in the least, “By God, I’d rather have Bear’s bones in a box sitting on the sideline than fuckin’ Perkins.”
Watched the old school rock fight in the shoe yesterday, waiting for Sark drive to hit high gear, but shit, it didn’t happen often enough.
Well, fuck. The essence of life is to rally, right? At least the Horns made a game of it. Tomorrow’s another day. 🏈♥️