Doom...

So USC goes and chokes when they had two chances to put the game away. First, needing two yards for a first down--which would enable them to run out the clock and thus win the game--they opt to run the ball up the middle, a middle which was stacked with Longhorn defenders expecting USC to do just that. The runner is stopped short, ball goes over on downs. Then, with 30 seconds left in the game and the 'sips facing their own fourth down try in the shadow of the goalposts, the Trojans inexplicably neglect to put any containment on Vince Young. Un. Frelling. Believable. At the end of the game, when it mattered, USC looked nothing like the two-time defending national champs that had won 34 straight. Sigh.

The worst part of this deal isn't all the ugly roadside kiosks selling even uglier burnt orange clothing that are popping up across the state like mushrooms (although that's bad). It's not even all the t-sips like Bill Crider that will strut and prance around in celebration like Mick Jagger on parade (although that's bad, too. Especially if you've ever seen Crider prance). No, the absolute worst aspect of a t-sip national championship is the fact that thousands upon thousands of bandwagon fans who've never, ever so much as set foot on that Austin campus will take it upon themselves to get in the face of anyone not on said bandwagon and offer such intellectually stimulating conversation starters as "We kicked your ASS!" and "Aggies suuuuuuuck!" Although, to be fair, that last one isn't reserved specifically for A&M grads. Depending on the situation, the clever 'sip wannabe can substitute Trojans/Sooners/Buffaloes/Cornhuskers with little or no advance planning. They're clever that way.

And yes, if you're wondering, I am wearing black today.

Now Playing: Johnny Cash American IV: The Man Comes Around