The Non-Politically Correct Utah Football Game Recap (And What a Shitty Game It Was!)

By Smitty Van Leeuwen, Comical Sports Editorial Person


The Utes went into Fort Collins, Colo., to play a Colorado State team whose offense is not exactly as well oiled as any of the contestants in the Miss Hawaiian Tropics Bikini Contest, and what happens?


They blew it.

They screwed up.

They choked like my uncle Alan trying to inhale turkey giblets through his nostrils during Thanksgiving dinner every year.

At least his shame and discomfort is only limited to the couple hours he has to spend between the emergency room and the vacuum the docs shove up his nose, though.

The Utes&well, they’ve got a whole week8212;and the rest of their lives, if they have any pride8212;to think about their 19 17 defeat to a Ram team that, frankly, displayed only slightly more ability than your 14 year-old sister’s attempt to cover Britney Spears’ “Oops&I Did It Again” at her junior high school talent contest last month.

Yeah, I was the heckler.

News flash: Tell lil’ sis she can wear more makeup than Liz Taylor if she wants, but if she’s trying to be like Britney, I got just three words of advice&

WonderBra. Midriff. Micromini.

I mean, c’mon&do you really think anyone’s looking at her face?

Anyhoo, back to the football game.

Boy, did that suck.

I gotta tell ya, Ron McBride seems like a nice dude and all, but his team’s brand of football could bring some instant Zs to even someone hopped up on a combination of amphetamines and NoDoz (trust me on this one, fellas).

I gotta tell ya, seeing them hand it off 300 times and seeing the receivers drop another eleventy-dozen passes had me praying that ESPN-Plus would pre-empt the son-of-a bitch for a poker tournament.

Lord Almighty.

It’s hard enough just keeping the channel turned to the game during the pre-show, what with inane commentators who couldn’t hack their way through most cable-access stations, then you’ve got the god-forsaken school marching bands prancing around on the field forming shapes that were supposed to resemble who knows-what.

I don’t know what makes for a good marching-band formation, but if there was ever a contest to see which group could most closely resemble an amoeba, these guys would have their shit together.

Sadly, that was the highlight of the afternoon.

Oh sure, you’ll get the die hards exulting in the close nature of the game, saying that the back-and-forth lead changes made things exciting.

I don’t know what rose colored glasses they were lookin’ through, ‘cuz all I say was a bunch of shitty football.

I mean, c’mon&you send Ryan Can-o’-shit-o out there twice in the same series and you’re honestly surprised that you score less than these dudes who spend their Saturday nights dressing up like Captain Kirk and playing Dungeons and Dragons in their basements.

Holy Christ, man.

Kaneshiro hasn’t had his shit together since he botched the BYU game a couple years back. Between the dude’s traumatic flashbacks and a leg so lacking strength he’d get his ass kicked by that Screech guy from” Saved By the Bell,” he’s got about as much chance of making an FGA outside 30 yards as Osama does of getting elected governor of Florida.

Then again, they might still have those “butterfly” ballots, and god knows what could happen then.

Anyway, by the time this game hit halftime, I was so beyond caring about the outcome I’d already been through my stack of porn twice and was well into my list of “Fun Ways to Get Rick Majerus to Implode.”

Lemme just tell ya&Way No. 48 entails rubber bands, Ajax cleanser and a large bag of Skittles.

Wrap your mind around that, buck-o.

So, once Cliffy Russell tried to stretch the ball into the end zone in the third quarter and fumbled, and once the U secondary left lil’ Petey Rebstock more alone than Blues Traveler’s John Popper with a raging case of herpes at a Playboy party, and once Lance Rice’s last-gasp effort to bring the Utes back carried with it all the legitimacy of your average African government, I was long since ready to try and pretend like the whole ordeal was just a bad trip brought on by my healthy diet of hard liquor and drug cocktails.

Sadly enough, messed up as I was, I still can’t forget about such a shitty game.

Disclaimer: The Comical is pure satire and appears at the beginning of every week on The Chronicle’s Web site. Please take the stories as jokes and don’t call your lawyer. Thanks.