Tag Archives: Wes Byrum
Let’s remind Urban Meyer to be a good boy next year and score another Florida-stuffing Pontiac Game-Changing Performance of The Year Award in the process.
Go here to vote for Foot Lauderdale…
By J. Henderson
My daughter woke up screaming just before Arkansas scored their touchdown. My wife ran back there, my mom too, she was in town with my brother. But she wanted Daddy. It wasn’t the best of timing, of course, but at the same time, as the nitty turned to gritty on TV, I calmly sat back into the couch cushions and held and “War Eagle’d” my little girl with confidence. My Dad called from the game, he was their with my grandfather, nosebleed. I heard the “Soooies” and all that and I smiled inside at the thought of the Hogs soon-breaking hearts ’cause those Hogs were playing dirty. (I especially love Freddie Fairchild’s ironic insta-karma: after slinging Kodi “they’re booing him because he’s from Arkansas” Burns to the turf a mile out of bounds, Fairchild gloats himself into a Arkansas-bred brick wall named Lee Ziemba and falls down himself.)
Sure, we were technically losing at that point, and sure, we should have beaten them by three touchdowns and sure, I’m… intrigued… by Tuberville’s post-game comments about his executive decision regarding strategy (… intrigued because it works. I was driving my brother up to Toomer’s and turned the radio up just in time to hear Coach Tuberville say something to the effect of “Yeah, if we’d opened it up a little more, we probably would have won by 14…” I got out of the car, shut the door, looked toward the whitening Corner, back to the radio inside the dark car, then back to the Corner and said, “he just said that didn’t he, how about that…”)
But I still knew we were going to win from the get-go – even cellularly doused with the rabid slobber of Fayetteville’s finest, I knew we were fine. You could feel it in the time of possession, read it in Ben Tate’s body language. And Foot Lauderdale would swig his coffee, kiss his wife and head out the door to Heroes Inc. yet again, like clockwork. Missed two already? I wasn’t worried. Not with that kid. Still, when Dad asked if I wanted to stay on with him through the kick, I said, nah, enough of that, I’ll call you at Toomer’s. And there he goes, kick is up, it’s good, put the baby back down. Night baby, War Eagle.
Byrum again, Cox again, Tuberville again, Borges again, Muschamp for Heisman. War Eagle. I’m so proud of these guys, this team.
We are going to pick LSU apart…. stay tuned.