I don’t say that with any disrespect to Florida — they did what they did, and they earned that pretty crystal football. But Florida isn’t the subject of this post, it’s Boise State, and there’s no team in the country that can say with 100% certainty that they are better than the Boise State Broncos.

Florida fans might say it, and I wouldn’t blame them if they did. But Oklahoma fans once said it, too. A lot of teams can probably make convincing arguments that they could beat Boise State, but still, at the end of the day, they’re just that: arguments. No one proved that Boise State could be beaten.

If I was a student at Boise State, I’d be so drunk right now that I’d piss pure distilled gin. And when I woke up tomorrow around 4 p.m., I’d spend the rest of the day making my own “national championship” t-shirt, I’d make my own replica of the Sears trophy out of broken glass and crazy glue, and then I’d make love to the luckiest girl on the Boise State campus and leave her with blue turf burns on 65% of her body.

And why shouldn’t they? Boise State did every single thing that they could do. Any task that was asked of them, they completed. And I know they didn’t play a monster schedule, and I know they barely beat Oklahoma, and there’s no way in hell that I would argue that they would beat Florida right now, but none of that matters. If you were a Boise State fan, all that would matter to you right now is that your team accomplished all that it could. They rose to every challenge, and no one can definitively say they’re better. Celebrate it.

Now, in the grander sense of the entire college football landscape, does that really mean anything? That a group of people decided to declare themselves national champions? No, not really. But the official national champions were dubbed as such because a different group of people sat down and crowned them national champions, so what the hell? If we’re going to be subjective about it, then to tell with it. Be as subjective as you want.

Both the AP and the Coaches Polls are in, and with 64 voters in each, there are a 128 possible first-place votes … Florida got 127 of them. Now, the coaches are required to vote for Florida as #1, and if that wasn’t the case, maybe they’d have snagged another vote or two.

I don’t know the grand identity of the lone son of a bitch who voted Boise State as the national champions, but I’d like to buy him a beer and take him out for a round of putt-putt.

themightymjd.com is happy to bring you a series of previews for some of the bullshit college football bowl games coming up. You may find yourself in the position of not knowing a lot of some of the teams involved, and that’s okay. I don’t either. But that won’t stop me from making up things that, if you can manage to convince yourself are true, would certainly pique your interest in these games. And again, I should probably point out that none of this is factual. 100% made up. Probably.

Heisman-winning quarterback Troy Smith of Ohio State sits in the trainer’s room, stretched out on one of the two exam tables, his leg hanging off of the edge as he waits to have his ankle examined. Sitting on the floor next to him is a large red gym bag. Troy swings his legs and waits for a trainer, staring at the door, hoping he’ll be seen soon. Soon, the team’s head trainer sticks his head in the door.

Trainer: Troy, I’m real sorry, but I’ve got to go see the coach for a second here. You sit tight, and I’ll be back in about fifteen, okay?
Troy Smith: Fifteen?
Trainer: Yep. Fifteen minutes. Just relax. Play with a tongue depressor or something.
Troy Smith: (laughs) Alright.

The trainer smiles and turns away, pulling the door closed behind him. Troy Smith exhales, and pulls the big red gym bag up off the floor. He sets it to his side on the exam table, unzips it, and pulls out his Heisman trophy. He places the trophy upright on the edge of the bed, looks at it, laughs to himself, and pats it on the head. He turns back to the gym bag, and pulls out a rectangular Nike shoe box. He shoves the empty bag to the floor, sets the shoe box next to the Heisman, and opens it up. The box is full of all colors and varieties of doll clothes.

Troy Smith: Okay, let’s see. What does Mr. Heisman want to wear today? This feels like a green day for Mr. Heisman! Green, green, green! Oooh, this is pretty. Mr. Heisman should wear feather boas more often! And I think Mr. Heisman feels like he’s in the mood to wear a skirt today! Oh, he looks de-lish! A thick black belt can be very slimming, too, and Mr. Heisman likes these long white boots, and holding this umbrella makes him look perfect! Oh, Mr. Heisman, you are so stunning today, will you be my boyfr–

Smith is shocked into silence when the door opens and the trainer steps quickly through, moving directly towards the cabinets on the opposite side of the room.

Trainer: I knew I was forgettin’ somethin’, I had to grab my notes on that kid that has the — Hey, Troy, what are those… are those doll clothes over the exam table?
Troy Smith: NO!
Trainer: Well I believe they are, son, and do you have your Heisman trophy behind your back right now?
Troy Smith: NO! Why?
Trainer: Son, why the hell do your carry that Heisman with you everywhere, and what is the goddamn deal with all these doll clothes?
Troy Smith: (stands up quickly, doll clothes fall from his lap onto the floor, his Heisman still being held behind his back) Hey, so, um, we play Florida, right? Should be a great game, don’t you think?
Trainer: Boy, are you…? Christ, son. I’m gonna ask you one question, and I want you to answer me honestly. Son, are you dressing up your Heisman trophy in women’s doll clothes?
Troy Smith: (takes a deep breath and smushes his lips over to one side of his face, as he always did when faced with a difficult decision. His eyes lower to the ground, and they close.)
Trainer: Son? Look at me. You’re dressin’ your Heisman up like a Barbie Doll, aren’t you?
Troy Smith: (slowly nods)
Trainer: Well, I will be a son of a bitch. Our goddamn quarterback is playing dress-up with the most prestigious damn trophy in all of sports. Boy, are you one of them homosexuals? With the leather pants and everything?
Troy Smith: No, no, no… I’m not gay, I just think Mr. Heisman would like some sexy clothes.
Trainer: Some sexy clothes? It’s a goddamn bronze trophy, Troy, it don’t need no sexy clothes! Hell, it don’t even need water or air, cuz it ain’t alive! All it needs is for you to not gay it all up!
Troy Smith: Well, he might not need sexy clothes, but he deserves them, because we all do, because we’re all pretty in our own ways, so stop being mean!
Trainer: (exhales hard) Boy, I am just at a loss here. I come in thinkin’ I’m gonna tape up your ankle, and I end up seein’ you havin’ a personal little pride march for your Heisman. In 32 years of athletic trainin’, this is a first for me, son. This. Is. A. First. I don’t even know what to say here? What’s the protocol in this situation?
Troy Smith: You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?
Trainer: Well, I reckon not. We got through 11 games with no one carin’ that you’re a fruit–
Troy Smith: I am not gay!
Trainer: Splittin’ hairs, there, boy, ain’t we? Anyway, I figure it ain’t nobody’s business what you do with your Heisman trophy, so if you wanna make it look like Liza Minelli, that oughta be your business.
Troy Smith: Do you really think he looks like Liza? Ohmygosh! He does!
Trainer: Easy there, son. Just because I ain’t mad don’t mean I want you to tell me all about what brings out ol’ Heisman Liza’s eyes over there. Let’s just worry about than ankle.
Troy Smith: Okay. Well, how is my ankle?
Trainer: Well, right now, there’s a mini pink taffeta dress laying on it.
Troy Smith: That’s not pink, it’s vintage rose. And Troy’s going to be a bridesmaid in that dress, so don’t hurt his feelings.
Trainer: Goddamit, Troy.
Troy Smith: You said you didn’t care!
Trainer: I do care, Troy. This is deeply disturbin’. I’m questionin’ everything I ever believed right now. And I know I shouldn’t care, and it’s your business, and you can do what you want, but boy, you cannot make THE GODDAMNED HEISMAN TROPHY A BRIDESMAID, DO YOU HEAR ME?
Troy Smith: The rest of the wedding party is going to be so disappointed.
Trainer: Is it even legal for a guy to be a bridesmaid in the state of Ohio?
Troy Smith: (shrug)
Trainer: Son, your ankle’s gonna be fine, and I’d like you to get the hell out of here right now.
Troy Smith: Okay. (Troy Smith picks up the Heisman and puts it back in his bag, as well as a couple handfuls of doll clothes, and he walks gingerly out the door.)
Trainer: Troy?
Troy Smith: Yes?
Trainer: Mr. Heisman left a whole rack of nightgowns over there by the gauze.
Troy Smith: He’s so forgetful sometimes! Silly Mister Heisman!
Trainer: We are so screwed tonight.

Troy Smith’s ankle is fine, and he leads the Ohio State Buckeyes against the Florida Gators tonight at 8:15 for the national championship. Mr. Heisman is expected to be wearing something sheer.

They grow the testicles huge in Idaho. Last night’s Fiesta Bowl between Boise State and Oklahoma might be the best college football game I’ve ever seen. I try not to get carried away with the hyperbole like that, but… I can’t remember a game ever bringing me out of my seat that many times. If that was the climactic game played at the end of a football movie, I’d have left the theatre thinking that a 9-year-old with an overactive imagination wrote it.

When Zabransky threw that interception with just over a minute to play, it felt like, “Well, they finally blew it. They got some good bounces and held the lead for a while, but finally, the better team caught up with them.” If feeling that way makes me a hater, or one of the infinate people out there that didn’t give Boise State the respect they deserved, then hey… so be it.

But then the coaching staff felt like elevating play-calling into an artform, and pulled some plays out of their asscracks that no team could’ve been prepared for. Miracle Moment #1 came on the crossing pattern/lateral play that tied the score at the end of regulation. Then Adrian Peterson put his foot on their throats again, scoring on the first play in overtime.

Then Miracle Moment #2 came on Boise State’s overtime possession, with a fantastic play design and play call. To begin with, how many coaches in the country have the balls to go for the 2-point conversion right there? Perhaps not coincidental to that question… how many coaches have a money play like that in the bag that they know is going to work?

Miracle Moment #3 came shortly after when Ian Johnson proposed to his girlfriend on the sidelines, right after the game. You start with a guy like Johnson, a fantastic person who’s a goddman knitter, of all things… baring his soul and putting his mack down on national television and making an honest woman out of her right there. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve seen since Notting Hill I haven’t seen Notting Hill, and you can just go straight to hell.

The only negative about it was Chris Myers trying to ruin the moment, like he was Berman at the NFL Draft. Before Johnson proposed, Myers actually said, “Okay, I know you want to propose right now,” and then the girl did her “cover her mouth and flip out” thing, before Johnson had the chance to ask. Dick.

themightymjd.com is happy to bring you a series of previews for some of the bullshit college football bowl games coming up. You may find yourself in the position of not knowing a lot of some of the teams involved, and that’s okay. I don’t either. But that won’t stop me from making up things that, if you can manage to convince yourself are true, would certainly pique your interest in these games. And again, I should probably point out that none of this is factual. 100% made up. Probably.

East Carolina running back Chris Johnson has been South Florida wide receiver Ean Randolph’s best friend since grade school. The two grew up playing together in the midget leagues of Dade County, Florida, and went to the same high school. Johnson was even seat to be the best man at Ean’s wedding before Ean got cold feet at the last second, lied and told the preacher he was gay, laughed nervously, and ran as fast as he could from the chapel. Now Ean thinks that there’s a decent chance that he actually is gay, but he isn’t sure. The two shared a phone call recently in advance of the East Carolina vs. South Florida showdown in the PAPAJOHNS.com bowl.

Ean Randolph: What’s up, boy? You ready for this on Saturday?
Chris Johnson: Shit, I’m ready. I been ready to whoop yo’ ass since you stole my girlfriend in the 7th grade.
Ean Randolph: Hahaha! Man, you don’t forget nothin’. Believe me, though, dog, I didn’t really like her.
Chris Johnson: I’m just playin’, man. It’s cool.
Ean Randolph: No no no. I’m tryin’ to make it clear to you that I really didn’t like her. Like… not at all, man. Not even a little bit.
Chris Johnson: It was 7th grade, man. I ain’t sweatin’ that. Relax.
Ean Randolph: Okay. I’m cool. (Ean takes a deep breath.)
Chris Johnson: So, did you get this gift package from the Papa John’s people?
Ean Randolph: Yeah, I got mine.
Chris Johnson: Me too… and this is some BULLSHIT, man.
Ean Randolph: For real, dog. Best thing in there’s a digital camera … and that thing only got three megapixels. I can’t print no 5-by-7s on no three megapixel bullshit.
Chris Johnson: This thing’s beat. How the hell we gonna be in the Papa John’s bowl, and we ain’t get no pizza?
Ean Randolph: I’m hungry, too. They got some Superman shit goin’ on there, too.
Chris Johnson: Oh yeah?
Ean Randolph: Man, I heard them suckas in the Insight Bowl get an Xbox 360. Texas Tech ain’t even that good, man.
Ean Randolph: We gettin’ screwed on this deal.
Chris Johnson: Man, my brother plays for Oregon. He got some Pioneer navigation system.
Ean Randolph: Really?
Chris Johnson: Yeah, they hooked him up good. He had to wear that ugly greenish snot helmet, though.
Ean Randolph: Where’s your brother now?
Chris Johnson: He’s here, man. He came to see me before the game.
Ean Randolph: He got that navigation joint on him?
Chris Johnson: I think so. Why?
Ean Randolph: I want it.
Chris Johnson: He might sell it to you. I don’t know.
Ean Randolph: That ain’t what I’m sayin’.
Chris Johnson: What? You gonna steal it?
Ean Randolph: Oh, I’mma steal it. And you gonna help me.
Chris Johnson: I ain’t helpin’ you steal shit from my brother, man. You lost your damn mind.
Ean Randolph: Listen, man. You help me steal that Pioneer navigation joint, and I’ll drop three passes in the bowl game. Guaranteed. Three passes dropped. And if I score a touchdown, I’ll jack you off. Guaranteed.
Chris Johnson: You serious? Wait, what?
Ean Randolph: Three dropped passes, man.
Chris Johnson: You didn’t say nothin’ else?
Ean Randolph: Nope.
Chris Johnson: (laughs) Alright, man. You got a deal.

Randolph drives across town in a 1992 Buick Skylark which he has just stolen from his hotel parking lot. Within then minutes, he meets Chris in the lobby of Chris’s hotel, and they take the elevator back up to Chris’s 14th-floor suite. His brother Jeremiah is asleep on the couch. They begin whispering to each other.

Chris Johnson: There it is, man. All the free bowl game shit’s in that basket over there.
Ean Randolph: Oh, snap! He got a subscription to ESPN The Magazine, too? I’mma get that, too.
Chris Johnson: Dog, we got one of those in our baskets. You don’t need to take that one.
Ean Randolph: I need two, man. I love Jim Caple. You don’t even know how much I love Jim Caple.
Chris Johnson: Just hurry up, man. He gonna wake up, soon.
Ean Randolph: If he wakes up, I’mma kill him. (Ean pulls a Glock 23 from his waistband.)
Chris Johnson: What the hell… man, quit playin’. You ain’t gonna kill nobody. (Ean’s eyes are fixed on Jeremiah on the couch, his mouth slightly open, he steps closer to him.)
Ean Randolph: Man, he cute, too.
Chris Johnson: WHAT?
Ean Randolph: Nothin’, nothin’. Listen, I’mma gank that whole gift basket, and I’mma get out of here. I’ll catch you later, boy. You wanna go get some waffles?
Chris Johnson: What? No, I’m not gettin’ no waffles with you. Just get outta here, man, this whole deal is off. You crazy, man. Just get out.

Jeremiah rubs his eyes and begins to stir on the couch.

Chris Johnson: (whispering in Ean’s ear) Put that god damn gun away.
Jeremiah Johnson: Chris, what’s goin’ on? Ean? What are you doin’ here?
Ean Randolph: What up, boy? Yeah, it’s good to see you, man. Come on, man, let’s go get some waffles.
Jeremiah Johnson: Why are you holdin’ a gun?
Ean Randolph: Oh, I was gonna steal all yo’ shit. Yeah. But you awake now, it’s cool, we can talk about that later. Let’s get some waffles.
Jeremiah Johnson: (blank stare)
Chris Johnson: (sighs heavily)
Ean Randolph: What? Y’all don’t like waffles? Listen, Chris, man… maybe them three dropped passes wasn’t enough. I feel you on that. So what if I just go tonight and kill our quarterback? I’ll shoot Matt Grothe in the face tonight, no joke.
Chris Johnson: I don’t… I don’t understand what’s happening here.
Ean Randolph: No? Alright, I’ll tell you what. I’ll kill Grothe, get you a copy of our playbook, suck your brother off, and I’ll kill that live bull we have runnin’ out the tunnel before games, and then barbecue him for you later. And that’s just for the ESPN The Magazine subscription. Sound good?
Chris Johnson: (as he’s involuntarily urinating on the floor) Uh… you know what… let’s, um… let’s go get those waffles, man. Come on, let’s go.
Ean Randolph: YEAH. Waffles, baby. Here I COME. I love waffles like I love Jim Caple.

Ean Randolph put his weapon away and left the hotel room, at which point Chris Johnson locked the door behind him and called 911.

Ean Randolph: (yelling from the other side of the door) Yo, you comin’, man? Listen, I’ll see you there, I’m gettin’ kinda hungry. I promise you Grothe’s dead, though. I’mma take off. (singing as he walks away, to the tune of “O Christmas Tree) Oh, Waffles bitch, Oh, Waffles bitch… Oh Waffles bitch, oh waffles, bitch…

themightymjd.com is happy to bring you a series of previews for some of the bullshit college football bowl games coming up. You may find yourself in the position of not knowing a lot of some of the teams involved, and that’s okay. I don’t either. But that won’t stop me from making up things that, if you can manage to convince yourself are true, would certainly pique your interest in these games. And again, I should probably point out that none of this is factual. 100% made up. Probably.

Today, we look ahead to Monday’s San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl.

Northern Illinois’ regular quarterback, Phil Horvath, will be sitting out the prestigious San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl with a “season-ending injury.” Most people don’t know that his injury was suffered at the hands of his backup, Dan Nicholson. It wasn’t one of those crazy punter situations where one guy stabbed another guy because he wanted to boot low 35-yard punts … it was something far more disturbing. The following conversation took place:

Nicholson: It’s pretty cool that we’re going to a bowl game.
Horvath: I guess, man.
Nicholson: What do you mean, you guess? Aren’t you excited?
Horvath: Kinda. But it’s just the San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl. That sounds so lame.
Nicholson: What’s wrong with that?
Horvath: Nothing, it’s just … you know, the other bowl games have sponsors like Tostitos or FedEx or Nokia. National companies that people have heard of. Ours is a goddamn county credit union, right? (laughs)
Nicholson: What’s your problem with credit unions? You too good for a credit union, golden boy?
Horvath: What? No, man. Just take it easy. What’s your problem?
Nicholson: I’ll tell you my goddamn problem, dickweed. My mother worked at a credit union for 37 years. She gave her soul to the company. For decades, she handled money that she could never dream of, handed to her by people like you and your rich prick parents, for $8 an hour and a half-hour lunch break. I don’t think, jackass, that there is A DAMN THING WRONG WITH CREDIT UNIONS.
Horvath: Listen, I’m sorry, man. I was just talking out of my ass. I didn’t mean anything by–
Nicholson: I’M NOT DONE, DICKFACE. It was on her deathbed that she told me that working at the credit union was the best thing that ever happened to her. She met her husband there. She made friends there. Many of the most significant moments of her life were spent there. For Christ’s sake, Horvath, I was conceived in a credit union. My mother is buried RIGHT NOW underneath a credit union in the Chicago suburbs. You wanna go dig her up and piss on her rotting carcass? Do you, Horvath, you son of a bitch?
Horvath: Listen, I’m really sorry, man.
Nicholson: Oh, you’re sorry. Well, let me tell you something, Whore-vath. You think you’re all high and mighty and slick, but where the hell do you think you’d be without credit unions? Do you even know? Do you even know the hell that the world would be without credit unions? Do you know that credit unions care about the community? Do you know that they’re full-service financial institutions? Do you know that CREDIT UNION DEPOSITS ARE ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT GUARANTEED? DO YOU KNOW THAT YOU CAN TAKE YOUR LOW-RETURN CDs AND JAM THEM STRAIGHT UP YOUR ASSHOLE? HUH, MOTHERF–?
Horvath: Stop! Just leave me alone, man. I like credit unio–
Nicholson: Oh, YOU WANNA GO? YOU WANNA GO, FRAT BOY? COME GET A PIECE OF THIS, YOU NAPERVILLE PUSSY.
Horvath: I think I’m just gonna leave.

It was then that Nicholson knocked Horvath down and grabbed the Northern Illinois mascot–a live Husky dog–and held it over Horvath’s face for 23 minutes, asphyxiating him. Horvath lost consciousness, his right lung collapsed, and Nicholson filled his locker with 114 live cobras. No one has discovered this yet.

The San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl is Tuesday night, December the 19th, on ESPN2.

Edit: Pretend like this never happened.

I could certainly be wrong about this, but it doesn’t seem to me that the Alabama head coaching job is all that great a gig. There’s history, there’s tradition, blah blah blah… but those things do not a great job make. You’ve got a fanbase that expects national title contention every year, when that’s probably not the reality. The Tide has clearly fallen to 2nd-place status in their own state and they’re a second-tier team in the SEC. He’s also going to have to explain to the people of Alabama about 2,000 times in the next few months that is not Mexican, and that is he is in this country legally. I don’t know why that’s a dream job.

I don’t know why that’s better than the job at WVU, where you’ve got Pat White and Steve Slaton together for at least one more year, and possibly two. It’s in a conference that’s not nearly as deep as the SEC, the road to the BCS is far easier, you get an automatic win against Dave Wannstedt every year, your fans do not own ceramic Bear Bryant salt-and-pepper shakers, this bastard is nowhere to be found, and you’ve built yourself as much job security as you could possibly imagine.

Obviously, there’s the money … but as it turns out, what he’ll be making at Alabama isn’t really much more than he’s making at West Virginia. If money was his motivation, I think he probably could’ve held out for another year, waited to see what he could make happen next year with White, Slaton, and nearly the entire defense returning, and then really cash in somewhere.

I don’t know. I think he’s making a mistake, but hey, it’s his life. I’m not going to get on him about “lying” just days prior, saying he would remain at West Virginia. Any coach in his situation is almost forced to lie right there. Perhaps he doesn’t come off looking as good as Greg Schiano, but … coaches lie about jobs. It’s almost a part of the job description.

I can’t imagine loving any job so much that I’d be willing to take less money and also live in New Jersey to be able to stay at that job. But that’s what Greg Schiano’s doing. Miami came calling, and he said, “Coach at ‘The U’? I already am coaching at ‘The U’, baby. RU, BITCH.” He then pounded his chest, pulled down his windbreaker to show off the portrait of Marco Battaglia he has tattooed on his chest, and shoved Donna Shalala’s face. Or, he did exactly what he’s doing in that video to your right. One of the two.

Either way, the guy’s a stud. I’m not saying that there’s no other coach out there who could have success at Rutgers… but you know, a lot of other coaches tried there, and the success rate isn’t real high. If Schiano left, chances were that Rutgers stay in the land of respectability would be a short one.

I’m glad that won’t be the case. It looks like Schiano is choosing the pride he takes in building a program, pretty much from the ground up, over the money and prestige that the Miami job would bring. That’s a decision to be applauded. And that’s not to say that if he went the other way and took the Miami job, that he should be criticized… I’d never begrudge a coach a chance to make more money and advance his career. It’s just nice to see Schiano willing to see things through at Rutgers.

For whatever arbitrary reasons, it’ll be Florida and Ohio State playing in Glendale on January 8th. A lot of human voters changed their mind and switched up Michigan and Florida in their polls this week, and that gave Florida enough juice to grab the #2 spot in the BCS. That gives them the right to play an exhibition game against the national champions, the Ohio State Buckeyes, in January.

There was just no good reason for that to happen. And I don’t say that as an argument for Michigan or against Florida, I’m saying that the decision-making process was based on whimsy and the mood of voters at the particular time that they cast their votes. It might be right, it might be wrong, but there was no good reason for it.

I think Kirk Herbstreit’s right when he says it was a case of “out of sight, out of mind,” for the Wolverines. The Gators earned an impressive victory against Arkansas while Michigan sat at home. Had Michigan/Ohio State, or even Michigan/Notre Dame been played on the same day as Florida/Arkansas, Michigan would probably be #2 in the BCS right now, and I’d be talking about how Florida got the shaft. Basically what this boils down to, as it so often does… is the date on which a particular game is played being the deciding factor on who gets a chance to play for a national championship. What a fantastic method.

The only logical thing to do as fans is to refuse to acknowledge anyone but Ohio State as the national champion, no matter what happens in the January exhibition season. They’re the only undefeated team that played an adequate schedule. themightymjd.com will recognize no one but Ohio State as our 2006/2007 national college football champion, because nothing else makes sense.

On a related note, Buckeyes coach Jim Tressel opted to abstain from voting in the Coaches Poll. Lloyd Carr didn’t like it, Charles Rich at the FanHouse didn’t like it, and Dan Shanoff damn sure didn’t like it. I don’t have any kind of problem with it at all, and here’s why:

1) It’s not like voting in the Coaches Poll is some grand, noble, thing that must be protected at all costs. It’s based on whimsy and bullshit, just like any other poll. Steve Spurrier gives a vote to Florida in the first poll of every year, no matter what. Coaches make self-serving votes all the time. Jim Tressel can no more hurt the integrity of the BCS than I can take the virginity of Christina Aguilera.

2) He was in a position to do a self-serving thing, and he didn’t do it. If he felt like Florida was a better matchup for the Buckeyes, he could’ve voted them #2. Or even #1, like some guy did in the Harris poll. If he wanted to go the other way, and get more bowl money for the Big 10, and thus, more money for the Buckeyes, which they could use to pay recruits upgrade facilities and other things, he could have done that, too. He had a chance to act selfishly, and he opted against it. I don’t see the problem there.

Anyway, enjoy the January exhibition season, and congratulations to the national champion Ohio State Buckeyes.