I bleed crimson red?well, actually it’s a lighter red color. Call it vermilion. But beyond that, I have been a Utah fan my whole life and with that loyalty comes an intense hatred for BYU. I’m not kidding; I really hate everything about the Cougs, so if you’re expecting an unbiased column, you might want to stop reading right now. Try another story in the paper; I’m sure Piper is going into a long diatribe on what North Salt Lake should be called or something completely lame like that.
Anyway, back to why we’re all here: BYU. I could draw on one of any number of things I hate about my boss (he likes “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” for hell’s sake), but the thing that probably agitates me the most is that, earlier this year, he sent me down to Provo to cover a volleyball game.
Now, I have been the beat writer for volleyball this entire year and have come to love every minute of covering the Utes (now No. 9 in the nation), but going to Provo?
Fighting the urge to just say “no” and quit my job, I began the journey to the utterly ridiculous “school down south,” running into many a family van full of unbelted 5-year-olds on my way.
Now, when I finally got into the vicinity of where I thought the campus should be, it wasn’t there. Not wanting to miss the match and get fired, I called the only person I know who goes to the school (an ex-girlfriend) and asked her how to get to BYU.
Her response? “Cody, those are six words I never thought I would hear you say.”
So true.
After wandering around Provo’s numerous ghettos (which is kind of like saying there are Oompa Loompas in “Star Wars”–just plain dumb), I finally made my way down to the overtly obtuse student recreation center, cleverly named the Smith Fieldhouse.
I knew I was going to be out of my element as soon as I stepped into that place, and it didn’t disappoint as thousands of people sporting the Cougar blue poured into the gym. To make matters worse, the sports information director from BYU sat me down right next to a writer from The Daily Universe (BYU’s school paper). This guy looked like the white version of Steve Urkel, except somehow worse.
For me, it was like walking through the gates of hell and someone telling me I would be sitting next to Satan himself. I couldn’t narrate my worst nightmare any better.
I don’t know what was wrong with that kid, but for some reason, he just didn’t understand that I didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything he had to say.
Here’s a sample quote from the kid, who we’ll call Moron A.
“Hey, do you see that girl in the middle of the court (BYU middle-blocker Lindsay Hartsock). Well, my freshman year I had seminary class with her.”
That’s um?that’s great Moron A. Hold on one second while I shoot myself in the face (where is Dick Cheney when you need him?).
He continued to go on and on about how he knew most of the women on the team and how I should care. Then he said something about my never listening?I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention.
Then, on top of everything else, that stupid Cougar mascot came out of nowhere and got in my face. It took every fiber of my being (yes, I just said that) to hold myself back from beating the living sin out of that ass. And while I’m on a rant, his name is Cosmo, for God’s sake. What does that have to do with Cougars? Yes, I noticed the alliteration and the wittiness of it totally blew me away, but is that it?
When it was all said and done, the Utes went into a sold-out BYU crowd and tore the No. 16 team in the nation to pieces, so I guess I can’t complain too much. The look on all the Cougar fans’ faces as they left was priceless enough.
So, in review, this is why Utah will smoke BYU: Piper blows, Provo is hell on Earth, Oompa Loompas of Star Wars, Moran A, blah, blah, Cosmo is lame. Are we clear?
