Bidgood Bob is your typical, unrepentantly arrogant Alabama Crimson Tide fan. He takes his name from Bidgood Hall, home of the University of Alabama's Culverhouse School of Commerce and Business Administration, recently voted one of the the top business schools in West Alabama. These are Bob's cries for help.

September 22, 2010

Eyewitness Account of Duke Ass-Whipping

Durham, NC – Bidgood Bob’s traveling circus is back home after a trip to Tobacco Road for last weekend’s Alabama-Duke game, a 62-13 Crimson Tide win that wasn’t nearly as close as the final score indicated. The methodical spanking of the Blue Devils has been well-documented elsewhere, so the following are just some observations from a road-tested Crimson Tide fan.


The Setting – What College Football is All About, Mostly

The geography of Tobacco Road is wonderful – the area is crowded with tradition-rich basketball schools that dabble in football. Although Duke’s campus is in Durham, we set up our headquarters in nearby Chapel Hill. Since the Tarheels were at home against Georgia Tech Saturday we decided to tailgate on UNC’s campus instead of Duke’s, on the premise that we can see throngs of drunken Alabama fans any time.

We got to see two stunningly beautiful campuses – UNC with its Georgian and Federalist architecture and Duke with its Gothic style. It would have been worth the trip simply to tour campuses, if you like that sort of thing, which I do. Once we got over to Duke we found they take the “pedestrian campus” concept very seriously. Tailgating at UNC, you just find a spot in somebody’s yard, lift the trunk and go bottoms up, Bama-style. At Duke, on the other hand, you park off campus and hike in. Alas, we had to leave the coolers behind.

Of course, Saturday’s parking policy may have been adopted specifically to keep Bama’s huddled masses in line. For all I know Duke may let Wake Forest fans park on campus. Anyway, on the long walk to the stadium I noted that your average funeral procession is livelier than this bunch. Some guy yelled out, “Roll Tide baby!” and you should have seen the Duke fans turn to stare at the ruffian as if his cell phone had gone off during the Apostle’s Creed.

Wallace Wade Stadium is a jewel, and I strongly suggest that the design team working on Cramton Bowl go have a look at it. It’s a cozy venue without the corporate trappings we are used to at Alabama and Auburn. There’s a press box that might or might not have contained a suite or two. The bathrooms were nice (well, the one I went to was). Concessions are done county-fair style, with dozens of local vendors showing off their wares.

They had a nice-sized video screen in the end zone; otherwise you’d think you had stepped back in time a few decades to a time before naming rights, ribbon boards, fan-cams and luxury boxes. Trees and gardens surround the place and you can see Cameron Indoor Stadium and the spires of beautiful Duke Chapel from any seat in the house. Overall, a great place to watch a college football game.

The Crowd

At kickoff better than half the crowd was wearing crimson. My assessment was that the Bama fans were well-behaved guests, and the Duke folks went out of their way to make us feel welcome, even down to the nice touch of having their band play “Yea Alabama” before kickoff. That was most appreciated. The Bama Nation returned the favor, providing a standing ovation when Duke’s head basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski was introduced, fresh off the 2010 NCAA Championship and FIBA World Championship. They got a name for the winners in the world, and one of those names is Coach K. I forget the other one.

Bama fans gave another standing “O” for the surviving members of the 1944 Duke team, who beat Alabama in the Sugar Bowl on January 1, 1945. A nice gentleman from Mobile was sitting next to me and he pointed out that all of Bama’s best players were busy saving the world from the Nazis and the Japanese, and that a full-strength Crimson Tide would have surely stomped Duke’s butt that day. I suggested that perhaps Duke was also missing key players from its team that year and the kindly old gentleman responded, “Nah, their rich daddies got them out of it.” A true Bama fan indeed. Somebody Google this for me, I am on deadline here.

The Game

Early on, the SEC officiating crew, apparently bending over backwards to prove their impartiality, decided to go to a video review of every other play. Combined with the TV timeouts following each Alabama touchdown, this resulted in a first quarter that took over an hour to play. A three-hour mercy killing was turning into a four-hour torture session. Maybe somebody from ABC got the word down to the field to let ‘em play.

There is no delicate way to put this: Duke is bad, bad, bad. Even worse, Duke is one of those terrible teams with players who like to do a lot of talking after the whistle and between plays. A number of Duke fans I spoke with told me (very politely) that they thought Alabama ran up the score, to which I responded (very politely) that the score could have easily gone over a hundred and that you should go get back in line for your basketball tickets.

Everyone saw Mark Ingram’s first score, your basic over-the-top TD. And everybody saw Ingram shove a Duke defender after the play and draw a well-deserved fifteen-yard penalty for it (it was a shove, not a head-butt – I had a better angle than ABC). Problem was, the crowd was small and wasn’t really into it, so everybody in the stadium heard the whistles when the linesmen signaled TD. So then a couple of Duke linebackers held Ingram above their heads and their gutless cur of a safety, #4, grabs Ingram by the ankle and starts to jerk.

On TV you can see Preston Dial convincing #4 to turn loose of Ingram’s leg, then ABC cuts away to a cheerleader shot or something. Well, Bama fans, you will be glad to know that the cowardly #4 (who cares what his name is?) was immediately surrounded by about 2,500 pounds of crimson bodyguards who were apparently explaining to #4 how the rest of the afternoon was going to go. The SEC officials got him out of there alive. If you are a Tide fan who recorded the game and want to have some fun, watch what Ingram does to #4 on his second TD run. It doesn’t get much better.

The Difference Between Us and Them

By the start of the third quarter most of the Duke fans were long gone but the Bama fans remained, like NASCAR fans waiting for the next big wreck. It was hot on Saturday, over 90 degrees at kickoff, and we decided to wander over to the shady side of the stadium for the second half. Taking our pick of seats on the fifty-yard line, we encountered a number of very cordial and curious Duke fans. Here is a sampling of the discourse:

Duke fan: “Sorry we couldn’t have had cooler weather for you guys. I guess down in Tuscaloosa you play all of your home games at night to beat the heat?”

Bidgood Bob: “Well, no, we play them whenever the TV networks tell us to.”

Duke fan: “How good is your punter?”

Bidgood Bob: “We don’t know.”

Duke fan: “We can’t wait to see your third-string tailback.”

Bidgood Bob: “You’re not going to like him, either.”

Duke Fan: “You should play us in basketball.”

Bidgood Bob: “Whatever.”

Seriously, it was a great trip to a beautiful place and we encountered nothing but very friendly, interesting people (except for Duke’s #4 - I hope he finds his jock strap some day). I would be in favor of Alabama’s continuing home-and-home series with the ACC for a number of reasons: their schools are in interesting places (except for FSU), their fans are very cordial (except for Miami) and they take their beatings well.

Bidgood Bob is a Montgomery businessman and unapologetic typical arrogant Alabama fan. He is not sure exactly how many national championships the Crimson Tide actually has, but eight have occurred during his lifetime. He doesn't know anything about football and writes more about the gameday experience than about the game itself. He seldom checks his facts and he is too lazy to Google things (like #4’s name).

April 6, 2010

Moby Dick (the short version)

... or, Drunken Middle-Aged Recession Victims at 30-Year Frat Reunion
Call me Ishmael. Some months ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, or my wife’s purse, or my IRA, or my sock drawer, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would jump into the old Ford pickup and go see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation, plus I can get drunk and, for a brief three-day period, tell the old wolf slobbering at my door to go fuck himself.

Arriving late in rough and tumble Walton County, I hoisted flagon after flagon of Scotland’s finest so as to catch up with my besotted mateys, then returned to the Inn at Bella Vita where I attempted to find a bunk amidst the cacophony of snorers and drone of infernal CPAP machines… ‘Tis better to sleep with sober cannibals than drunken Christians, said I.


The next morn I met the harpooners - Queequeg, a massive Birmingham insurance executive, and Tashtego, a more compact, but no less impressive specimen of a Birmingham insurance executive. Both appeared fit and ready for a merry chase at sea. They took to the shores in search of the elusive White Whale.

No sooner had we reached the shore and shaken off the Red Bar fog than we heard the cry from the crow’s nest, "'Thar she blows!- thar she blows! A hump like a snow-hill! It is Moby-Dick!'" Then later.. “Nay! Nay! ‘Tis a whole pod of White Whales a-feeding!”

The Harpooners set forth with vigor, leaving behind the relative safety, conviviality and oath-bound monogamy of the crew. “Starboard gangway, there! Side away to larboard- larboard gangway to starboard! Midships! Midships! Throw out a chumline of tequila and buffalo wings, there, ye bastards!”

Are they mad? Hell is an idea first born on at least 15 digested Bud Lights; and since then perpetuated through the hereditary dyspepsia nurtured by parenthood, private school tuition, disapproving in-laws, NCAA probation, a plummeting stock market and looming foreclosure. After them, lads!!

We heard their ravings during the chase - “Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering and drunk and sunburned Whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for the sheer hell of it, I pour my last beer on thee! Let other harpooners seek the smaller, younger, svelter whales! We seek the Great White Whale!”

Editor’s note: From here, accounts of the outcome differ.

January 17, 2010

RECAPPING A DECENT YEAR


Well, that's one less thing.

Not a damn thing BamaBing can add to this. Let's hope recruiting continues to go okay and we can stay scandal-free for a few years.


This could turn out to be a pretty nice ride if we don't screw it up. We usually screw it up, but there's always hope.




Orrin Hatch: Invite Boise State to the White House, too!

LINK: Here is Sen. Hatch's stupid letter


LINK: Here's what blogger Jan Crawford of CBS News thinks about his stupid letter


In Thursday's letter, Hatch says inviting both teams will "send a clear message" that champions should be chosen on the field. (Birmingham News 1/14/10) How about on the South Lawn?




Lane Kiffin

ESPN's Pat Forde said it best - Paris Hilton has paid more dues than this guy.

I am truly going to enjoy watching this little pecker-gnat crash and burn. It's a shame that he's going to help bring down one of the great college football programs with him but, hey, that's life. It takes about 17 years to recover from this type of stupid decision, especially with some scholarship losses thrown in.

You've got to give him credit, though. Kiffin must have one hell of a live boy/dead girl photo album and he's not afraid to use it.

Urban Meyer is a big ole sissy. That's all I can come up with.

Tommy Tuberville would have been a better fit at South Florida.

Steve Spurrier is now only in it for the fat salary. Am I the only one who can see this?

LSU will again have top-tier talent coached by the dumbass Les Miles, who boasts the highest off-Wall Street salary to brains ratio in the history of earth.

I don't think Mark Richt recruits hard enough.

One institution in the SEC has characteristics of a Potemkin Village. I will do a whole blog post on this theme sometime before signing day.
THIS YEAR'S "STATEMENT OF THE OBVIOUS" AWARD:
New Tennessee head coach Derek Dooley:
"I'm not Nick Saban."

December 4, 2009

My daughter. I love that kid.


I wrote the most hateful post about Tim Tebow earlier tonight. She said I should delete it. So I did.

You should have read what I wrote. Woo! I would have gone straight to hell for that. It was R-rated and very hateful. But pretty damn funny, I must say.




Dinner in Atlanta.

Damn, that War Eagle appetizer was mighty tasty. I ordered it flash-fried, but the slow-roasted bird was surprisingly satisfying. I loved the way Chef Greg and the kitchen staff finished it off.


Now I'm ready for the main course. So many good choices in the ATL. I recommend La Maison de Deion.

Healthy appetite? Try the Swamp & Stomp (that's fried gator tail with a squashed T-Bone). That's what Terrence ordered, the Swamp & Stomp for Two. 

Wine? I'll be having the 1992 Frere Oliver (a truly memorable red). If you are a Gator fan, try a bottle or three of Rip Van Dunlap, then drive back to Gainesville. Right after I call the Georgia Highway Patrol. 

Those French chefs,  you've got to watch 'em. Deion is always trying to slip some snails, stomach, pancreas or something onto your plate. Just be careful. If you are partial to escargot, tripe and sweetbreads and willing to take a chance, you might like the Globes Oculaires de Bouledogue (bulldog eyeballs). Deion put those on the menu for the Florida fans hitting town this weekend.  They are fresh-gouged.

If you want to eat cheap, Florida's QB will be serving fishes and loaves at the Georgia Dome. And here's a great tip... if you want to catch a buzz during the game. Just buy a couple of bottled waters. Superman will turn those into wine for you, no charge. 


If you clean your plate, you get to have some of this for dessert:



A good read follows. Hit the link below:


I thought the picture below was funny. My buddy T-Bone (no relation to the Chosen One) said it might make him root for the Gators. Almost, but not really.



THE END^^

December 3, 2009

Excuse me, I'm the one with the bragging rights here.


Aubs Bring the Dink JV Shit, Still Fall Short


Ah, enough about the moral victory already. I am just glad I didn't have to go over to the Potemkin Village on the Plains to see them foaming at the mouth after the onside kick. It's terrible to get a narrow win over an outclassed opponent. I feel like a Philistine who has been smote with the jawbone of an ass, but now I get to give Auburn fans the business for another whole year.

I only have one question... were we this pitiful as fans during the Shula years? I fear we were. Let us never, ever, go back there. And if we should, let us never, ever claim a moral victory.

Bring on the Gators.


November 26, 2009

So you're going to the Auburn game?


Survival Guide for ‘Bama Fans in Auburn

George Bernard Shaw, the great Irish dramatist and purported socialist, once said “England and America are two countries separated by a common language.” I always liked the quote, as much for its economy of words as its message. Being a fraction Irish myself, and 100% Southern, I fully understand being misunderstood and often ponder why people sharing the same language and lineage, who reside within common borders and even in the same neighborhoods, choose to turn against one another for no apparent reason.


Take Auburn University and its followers, the Aubs, for example. Yes, we share a form of the same language. We grudgingly share a state with them. We went to high school with them, share zip codes, go to church together and sometimes, out of some sense of noblesse oblige, even let our children play with theirs. Outside.

But tomorrow we will be strangers in a strange land – their land, not ours -- outnumbered and outgunned, hoping to leave Friday evening victorious and elated, but injury-free and with fully-inflated tires on our cars. We have to ask ourselves the question, like noted American social icon Rodney King did, “Can we all get along?” And since I’m quoting social icons and purported socialists today, the answer is a resounding “Yes, we can!”

Here are some BamaBing! tips that will enhance your gameday experience and increase your chances of survival:

1. Avoid the term “Cow College.” They are sensitive about their agricultural heritage, for some reason. I never figured this one out, since every time you eat a truly great steak it’s probably the result of some Aubs doing freaky cross-breeding experiments in animal husbandry class. And they gave us the McLean Deluxe. Don’t forget that.


2. Be careful who you hang with. If this guy (left) is at your tailgate, nothing good can happen. You wouldn’t spearfish in shark-infested waters with a bloody red snapper clipped to your belt, would you? So don’t strike up a postgame conversation with a piss-drunk Bama sidewalk alum who wants to roll Toomer’s Corner. At best, you will get your ass beat. At worst, they will rip you apart and sling your entrails into the trees.

3. Don’t ask about the basketball arena. Yes, they are spending $100 million on a basketball gym with fewer seats than their old one (which was already one of the smallest in the SEC). This is so they won’t have to hang a curtain across half the place to hide the empty seats. Just let them keep building shit they can't afford, trying to catch up with us. This is how Ronald Reagan crushed the Soviet Union.

4. Don’t ask why there are so many Alabama fans at the game. Sensing another steady dose of The Process, Aubs are in all-out sell mode and finding limited domestic demand for their tickets. This has sent them en masse into the open market, where the buyers are largely of the Crimson variety. Aubs rationalize the economic situation thusly, “I can pay for my whole season ticket package by selling my tickets to Bammers.” The irony of this escapes them.

5. If you must engage… ask if Eltoro Freeman is named for a lawn mower.

6. Don’t count your championships. They really hate it when we do this.

7. Don’t ask why their season ticket hotline number is 1-800-AUB-1957. Just don’t.

8. Bad topics of conversation: Colonial Bank, Mr. Lowder, sociology, the world famous Kenny Irons interview, the Martyrdom of John "Stump" Thrower, Iowa State’s bowl eligibility, mobile homes as student housing, SACS accreditation, lingering ex-coach hush money payments, Rev. Chette’s tax status.


In summary, give the Aubs praise where it’s due. Comment on the pristine nature of their field – they are very proud of it. If you wish, feel free to read them this little poem I wrote in praise of Aubs:

I’m raising my glass
To the Auburn vet
Who stuck his finger
In my Labrador’s ass
And the Auburn grad
Who cuts my grass
And his lovely wife
Paroled at last.

I’m drinking a toast
To the Auburn farmer
Who grows the collards
I like the most
And strings barbed wire
From post to post
And his cousin Donnie
Who tends the goats.

I’m buying a round
For the Auburn men
Who raise the cattle
And plow the ground
And build the bridges
And cruise around
On John Deere tractors
And roll their own town.


War Damn Eagle