#like they still gotta pretend their debate performances were even on the same level

[biggest-bara-tiddies]

Watching ABC news's post debate commentary and one of the first thing they're talking about is that Harris didn't explain why she changed her policy positions instead of like the fact that she had to endure Trump questioning her race to her face and managed a coherent response that didn't involve physically attacking him. Like Trump spent the entire debate incoherently rambling about racist nonsense, making a complete ass of himself by flat out refusing to answer questions, attempting to spin his failures as president in the most pathetic way imaginable, yelling, and being a complete loon which all gets summarized as him being "angry and defensive"

[chuckling-chemist]

Everybody Needs Somebody

((They say a picture’s worth 1000 words so I wrote 3750 because I can’t draw and then rushed the gag itself. Also probably the only thing I’ve really written of all this that I’m posting, be it here or anywhere, since my interpretation of the ball being at a swanky hotel was incorrect, but also everything else is only like....debatably relevant? All 1.5 other pieces, that is. idk, might another short piece or two but this one was certainly a vanity project written in the early hours of the morning in post-Stardew Valley Christmas hazes that is only getting posted to make myself feel better, for some sense of “welp did the thing I said I was going to write 6 months ago and here it is” type of thing.

Anyway there’s a lot of silly references in here so kudos if you pick them all out))

Joilet tapped his foot impatiently from behind their practice room. He hadn’t meandered much around the crowd of the ball -- ignoring the current charges against him, high class crowds weren’t his scene -- but current security was still enough to make him worry. Brownblood host or not, he knew enough have true highbloods stalking around as guards. Bouncers who Joilet’s certain were watching him and recognized him the last time he did a sweep of the temporary hivestem. After their performance, Joilet and Akroid were going to have to peel out immediately.

At least they were paid upfront this time upon meeting him in person the night prior. In cash.

Though, to be fair, the Blue Brothers shouldn’t have been paid. A friend of theirs in similar line of work, a brownblood named Elliah Fagane, performed last sweep and she was slated to perform again. She was perfect for the job, a good little songbird who kept complaints she had about anything to herself and was the perfect paragon of elegance and grace -- lowblood or not. The Blue Brothers, meanwhile, were two midbloods (Joilet was a stocky cobaltblood while Akroid was a lanky tealblood) who both had a penchant for getting into trouble. Under normal circumstances, the two of them alone -- much less the whole band -- would ever be asked to perform for a traditional socialite of any caste. But, they needed the money and so Joilet was able to pull a quick favor from her to have her drop her spot while simultaneously recommending them as adequate replacements. He accepted, playing as if he knew who the two of them were the whole time. He told them how much of a fan he was of their “country and western band”, how Elliah “just wasn’t the sound he wanted”, and how excited he was to get some “representation of their own people’s music, in a more palatable fashion” in the setist. 

He was partly right: once they performed a cover of Stand By Your Rail at a dive bar, pretending to be an actual western band. He’s pretty sure this guy wasn’t aware of that, but an attempt was made. At least.

Their tight, uniform appearance also helped matters. Despite the different castes and heights, Joilet and Akroid looked the part of a two person midblood group with a backup lowblood band. Same black sunglasses that cover up half their face, same black fedora hooked onto their respective short horn (Joilet’s left horn, Akroid’s right), same unruly hair covered up by said hat, same black suit and skinny black tie. Sure, Joilet’s other horn broke off during his stint in prison while Akroid’s just hooked off again and Joilet’s sideburns were unkempt, but otherwise? Perfectly uniform. If the host had any questions of their legitimacy, they were quickly quelled after seeing the two of them in person the other night and, to Joilet, that spoke just as much as their actual skill level.

Joilet glanced over to Akroid. Damn teal looked as unflappable as ever behind those dark sunglasses. It was him who got them in this whole situation in the first place. Akroid, the idiot who picked him up from the big hive at the start of the perigee with a pipe dream of getting the band back together. The idiot who resisted arrest for public intoxication from the drones all because he was a former felon himself, starting them on this stupid honkbird chase in a desparate bid for cash. Akroid, the idiot who helped get his ass out of prison in the first place, all due to whatever strange desire for the other’s companionship they developed over the sweeps.

Fuck him.

Akroid must have caught his gaze because he gave a short smile and a thumbs up. “We’re doing good,” he said. “Remember, we’re on a mission from God.”

Right. The mission from God. Joilet found himself relaxing almost instantly. He distinctly remembered the out of body experience he had upon visiting one of those criminal infested freeports before departing; where, if he hadn’t talked to the God (Joilet didn’t believe the clowns held any sort of stranglehold on the concept of godhood), he certainly talked to a god. If nothing else, they made it this far without a single hiccup they couldn’t solve in their plans. It’s hard to believe someone’s not looking out for you when you escape a chase by driving through a busy mall and still make it out on top. Without their current employer hearing any of it.

“And what if God lets y’all get caught again?” their saxophonist, Marini, asked. He was a skinnier rustblood, long curly hair that went down to his mid back and oddly pointy teeth for such a red caste. “Leavin’ us high and dry again like when Joilet got hit.”

“We’ll be fine,” Akroid said. He shifted the sleeve of his suit, pausing in his speech to check the time on his watch. “Just follow our lead and look like nothin’s wrong.” 

The rustblood let out a huff with a brief shake of his head, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he asked, “How much longer do we have anyway?”

“Ten minutes,” Joilet answered. “We got ten minutes.”

“Well good.” He removed his saxophone off the neckstrap and set it on the stand. “I drank way too much Faygo. Gotta piss.”

“Then go piss!” Akroid’s stone face cracked into a distinct scowl. “Geeze, you don’t gotta announce everything. Just get back before we perform.”

Their drummer, another rustblood by the name of Barkay, stood up as well. He looked about the same age as Joilet, with curly hair partially that was obscured by his dark green visor. Barkay looked about as respectable as anyone of his caste could, with a dark red dress shirt and black tie.

“I’m goin’ with him.”

Joilet blinked harshly behind his sunglasses. “Okay? It’s the damn ablutionblock. Do what you need to.”

They apparently didn’t need to be told twice. The two trolls were out the door before Joilet had a chance to add anything else.

“You’d think his bulge was on fire,” Joilet finally said. His gaze swept around the rest of the band rapidly. They were quiet. Somber. Hell, if he didn’t know any better he’d have mistaken the lot of them going off to war, not performing for big money at some fancy gala-thing. “You think he’s gonna bail?”

“Marini? Nah. He was the only guy we didn’t have to pester who was workin’ at that diner. Been itchin’ to rip on that sax.” Akroid smirked wryly. “And doin’ it here? In front of all those rich pricks? I’d worry more ‘bout yourself. You gonna choke?”

Joilet snorted. “ ‘Course not. We’re in too deep.”

“Didn’t seem like that a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah well….” Joilet trailed off. Akroid wasn’t wrong. Joilet had panicked. It seemed like every jackass out to get them were outside waiting for them. And Akroid, bastard he was, simply reminding him that those jackasses hadn’t got them during the rest of the sweep brought him back. 

Not like he’d admit it out loud.

“Had a moment of panic’s all. Then I remembered this kid’s probably being a nervous wiggler about staffing with his first year. Nothin’ else.”

“Uh-huh.” Akroid’s smirk widened a bit, giving Joilet the sudden urge to punch it right off his face. But not now. They were too close to their goal.

They stood in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a new figure came out from the curtain, an indigoblood with short, cropped hair in a suit matching his caste walking next to Manini and Barkay. That was the guy who’d be ushering them on, sure, but he’s almost certain it hadn’t been ten minutes. Did something happen?

He glanced back over to Akroid, who just shrugged. Figures.

“Are you ready?” the indigoblood asked. He had some smile plastered on his face in some attempt to be friendly, but it didn’t look friendly. The offset, sharp teeth broken off at odd angles gave off a distinct predatory vibe.

“I dunno, did they get their break?” Joilet said.

Barkay grinned, giving the two trolls a thumbs up as he walked seat. “I got what needed done. No worries.”

The indigoblood’s face split wider, if that were even possible. He beckoned Joilet and Akroid with an open hand, unmoving until the two of them actually started following him through the narrow hallway. “Excellent. Let’s get moving then. Your stage is set, guests are waiting...you wouldn’t want to disappoint such eager crowds I’m sure. They could get aggressive.”

Joilet refrained from mentioning he passed time in prison by performing old classics, and just how dangerous some of those trolls were. Hell, he even learned a few new songs thanks to an actual country musician of a brownblood involving being stuck in prison. Aggressive wasn’t a problem. It was authority. 

“Got it.”

“Good.” He stopped in front of a door, giving them a nod. “You can go ahead and enter through the door. Hopefully you don’t need any final warmups?”

“We’ll be fine,” Joilet said.

The indigoblood nodded. “If you’re certain. I shall return at the end of your set.” He opened up the door. “Best of luck.”

The two of them exchanged a look. “We don’t need luck,” Akroid said before disappearing through the door.

Joilet followed suit, giving the inidgoblood a curt nod of acknowledgement before adding, “We’re on a mission from God.” 

As he walked through the door, he was immediately greeted with a dark blue curtain in front of them with a short opening to the left of them where he could catch the smallest glimpse of the piano on a raised platform. Nothing else. The piano obscured most of the view of the crowd beyond them. He imagined it was exactly the same on the other side.

It was a small exit. But it would be perfect for escaping out.

He wondered if Akroid was thinking the same thing. Probably. There was no way to tell, no way to properly read his expressionless face their last moment of respite before their performance and subsequent frantic escape before anyone did a serious background check about who they were. Still, there was a twinge in his gut that his partner in crime agreed.

When they exchanged one final nod in solitude and took their places in front of two microphones, Joilet had a feeling he was right.

As soon as he made it, he did another quick scan of the room. It was blue. Blue tablecloths covered the guest and dessert tables. Blue curtains shuttered the ball off from the outside world. Blue lights in the punch bowl made the ice snowflake sculpture inside look blue. And if it wasn’t blue, it was white. White tree sculptures adorned with white lights twisted around each marble pillar. Vases of white flowers topped every table. A white rug ran down the center of the ballroom. Small, white lights dotted an otherwise dark ceiling to give the loose impression of stars or snowflakes down onto the dance floor.

Even the trolls did nothing to break it up. If the dress didn’t match the owner’s blood color, it was a distinct blue or white with sparkles or shimmers. White lacing and white boas perfectly match the white boots and white dresses. The flashes of gray due to the high cut of many of the dress slits managed to break up the coloration more than anyone matching caste color. 

Thankfully, the heavy blue-white combination made the distinct pinks, purples and blacks of those on their tail easy to spot. And oh boy, were they available -- even more so than earlier. Joilet wouldn’t be surprised if their host figured out about them at some point, but not early enough to cancel and reschedule so he let these brutes in instead. Burly indigo and purplebloods in suits stood along the edges, away from the crowds with their arms crossed in rapt concentration of the two of them. Standing next to the dessert table were a series of inidgobloods all dressed in formalized cowboy outfits, complete with stetsons, glaring at them -- the very same western group the Blue Brothers once impersonated. A few particularly annoying “seadweller master race” types in colorful gowns and military pinks stood in the back next to cobalts in military regalia, quite possibly from some local, non-drone law enforcement they managed to pick up to defend themselves. On the other side of the cobalts were a few subjuggalators who definitely were full into the “highblooded landdweller supremacy” in full face paint and religious purple clown robes. Both were groups the Blue Brothers have antagonized, whether it be intentionally with the seadwellers (they deserved it), or accidentally (turns out subjuggalators don’t like lower castes hearing the voice of their god, whatever god answered Joilet and Akroid notwithstanding). It was, however, the first time Joilet’s ever seen the two work together for a common goal. Traditionally the two groups go at it worse than a bad kismesis. He was almost proud that they were able to perform such a feat, though he wasn’t sure if the pride was directed at the supremacy groups or himself for bringing them together.

He let out a slow breath. Only one thing to do at this point. Start.

“One. Two. One, two, three, four.”

The band kicked off with the sound of upbeat horns while the two trolls gave a short dance around the mics for a few bars. After which, while the intro kept repeating, Akroid grabbed his micrphone and said, “We’re so happy to see so many of you lovely trolls here tonight. We would especially like to welcome the esteemed members of Kilran’s hired law enforcement who have chosen to join us at the 12th Perigee Ball here tonight. We hope you all enjoy the show and hope you remember that no matter who you are and what you do to live to try and survive, there’s still some things that make us all the same. You, me, them--” Akroid looked directly toward the back of the room toward the cobaltbloods assisting the supremacists with a disappointed shrug “--everybody. Everybody.”

And from there, it was Joilet’s turn. With the second mic in hand he started singing their opener, Everybody Needs Somebody to Love. It was a speedy tune, possibly a little too fast for what their host was intending, but they sounded perfect and that’s all that mattered. The band’s hits fell right within the pauses in Joilet’s vocals, and Akroid knew exactly when to come in to accent with his deep baritone. Each transition into the next part of the song was smooth, from pointing to various people in the crowd at the you, you, you, to Akroid seamlessly whipping out his harmonica to accent Joilet’s singing the pre-chorus.

There were a few scattered cheers of appreciation, but for the most part these people weren’t dancing. Only one way to change that.

As they gave a pause in vocals to allow for a harmonica solo, Joilet started through a complicated dance twisting around the band members, ducking and weaving through saxophones and trombones while he turned this way and that. It was finished with a cartwheel across the front end of the stage, landing him right in front of the microphone for the next verse.

It was the opening some of the trolls -- lower castes mostly, but he caught flashes of higherbloods in the mix -- needed. The dance floor segment had all sorts of trolls, be it single or paired off in some fashion, dancing in whichever way they fancied. Akroid must have led them into a rhythmic clap too, judging by the trolls unwilling to dance instead clapping and even chanting at every repeat of you, you, you. He caught the leader giving them a death glare. Joilet ignored it.

At the next verse, Joilet swung on his heel back toward the band. He pushed his outstretched arms down toward the floor in an overemphasized quiet down for the crowd, and every instrument dipped off except for a cymbal hat to keep time and the grooving bass guitar.

It was Akroid’s time again. He moved right toward center stage, mic in hand and announced, “You know people when you do find those special trolls for any quadrant, you gotta hold that ‘rail, hold that ‘sprit, love him, squeeze him, love her, please her. Signify your feelings with every gentle caress or angry glare. Because it’s so important to have that special somebody! To hold. To kiss. To miss! To please and squeeze!”

Akroid dropped into a kneel on the stage, as if enraptured with his statement, as Joilet finished out with the chorus. He didn’t stand back up until the harmonica came back in. He rejoined Joilet in the back for the end, and the two mimicked each other dancing on the balls of their feet as the band played out.

When the last note struck, the two of them landed simultaneously on one knee, head down with their hand holding the brim of their hats.

Two songs left. Then they bolt. They could do this.

Their performance of Soul Man was just as energetic. This song was pretty much entirely Joilet’s, so he let Akroid dance around the stage now. He could catch the other troll jumping up and down, legs moving so loosely and briskly they may as well be jelly. He only cut in for parts of the chorus, letting that deep baritone accent Joilet’s raspy vocals.

In only a few short minutes Soul Man ended and their final song, Sweet Home Gusthollow opened with swift guitar licks in a short solo. As the rest of the band kicked in and Joilet sang out the first few bars, Akroid raised his hands up to lead those listening in a clap. Barkay joined in as well. He raised his own drumsticks high above his head, tapping off the beats until those in the crowd kept time on their own.

As the first verse ended, Akroid took hold of Joilet’s mic. “Six and three is nine. Nine and nine is eighteen. Look there pupa partner and see what I’ve seen.” He nudged Joilet and pointed toward the cobalt in the back standing between the supremacists. Shit. Another look and Joilet realized he knew that troll. He was one of the wardens of the prison he was released from. But he also noticed at his angle, with the growing crowd of dancers and listeners, they might be able to slip away. After all, the stage wasn’t raised. The only reason he could still see the warden was thanks to the gaps down the main walkway.

The two of them waved confidently at him as they continued through the chorus. Even with the distance, he noticed the cobaltblood drag a thumb across his neck.

It struck Joilet numb for a few seconds. Good to know where he stands, he supposes. 

The two finished out the chorus with a flourish, letting the band take over. Joilet turned over to Akroid, offering out his hands to dance. The other troll accepted, and the two pranced right off the stage and into the crowd, swinging around as Marini moved center stage to crank out a solo. With the focus off them, they were able to swing right back onto the stage and through the small opening to the area behind the stage. He could still hear the band, but it was muffled. 

“You think that creep’s waitin’ for us back here?” Akroid asked. 

“I sure fucking hope not. Could do without running from his slimy ass too.”

Joilet whipped open the door, ready to run from whoever Kilrun left to deal with them back here. What they were greeted with instead was a troll leaning on the nearby wall wearing a tight, long sleeved red dress that pooled onto the floor. Yellow and orange flowers, though Joilet wasn’t sure what kind, outlined her skirt. A large, black wide brimmed hat wrapped outlined in string lights covered her whole face. When the door closed, they looked up, revealing a noticeable pair of fins and tyrian pink eyes. 

A fuschiablood.

“So...you must be the two trolls I was informed of.” She gave the two a grin filled with those sharp seadweller teeth, just as predatory as the indigoblood earlier, but for some reason it didn’t feel directed toward either of them. “Ran into your two bandmates earlier. He gave me a heads up you might be headed back this way before you run off.”

“Who the hell’re you?” Joilet asked.

“Call me Mayola. You two pissed off those buncha entitled rich fucks who think they’re better than everyone else right?”

Joilet and Akroid glanced at each other in silence. “What about it?”

“I’d like to bring you and your band on for Sandyhorn’s next festival. You two would make a great fit.” She pulled a thick envelope, quite obviously stuffed thick with cash, out of seemingly nowhere and handed it to Joilet. “Consider this a down payment. You’ll get the rest when I see ya there.”

Joilet thumbed through the money, eyeing her. This was a lot. More than he they could’ve gotten from this gig alone. “Yeah sure. Sounds like a deal.”

“Hey, just one problem.” Akroid jutted his thumb out toward the direction of the ball beyond them. “All those goons seem to have caught on our tail and we can’t perform unless we get outta here without goin’ to prison.”

Her face brightened. “Oh well that’s an easy one. Here, follow me.” She pushed herself off the wall and sauntered toward the door, that red dress almost appearing to shimmer in the dim lighting. With a quick motion of her wrist, she opened the door into the back of the stage. Only a few further steps in, and she leaned down and pulled at a small hitch in the floor. A trapdoor immediately popped up without a sound.  “Found this out the other day when I couldn’t sleep. Should lead outside without a hitch, though you might have to go through some sewers.” 

She looked up at them, eyes wild and filled with pride, catching the two troll’s equally bewildered and ecstatic expressions. “You’re brilliant!” Akroid exclaimed. “Amazing! Fantastic! Wonder--”

She held up a hand. “Save your praises for later. For now...just think of me as today’s savior.”

[sportsleague365]

Excellent mailbox. Now keep sending mails to theeditor@football365.com Question of the day It may have been said before, but could someone explain to me the difference between Guardiola and Kevin Keegan please? Stewart Request of the day That was awesome. What a match. Can all matches be like that please? Gavin, a United that thoroughly enjoyed that! Glory be to the diving header Can we just take a moment to appreciate a moment of retro finishing by Falcao last night. There’s not many better sights than seeing a goal scored from a proper diving header. My childhood was full of these glorious images. Keith Houchen in the 87 cup final still remains one of my favourite ever goals. When and why did the diving header become so rare? DazzaT8, LFC Fan, Calderdale …It’s been ages since I’ve seen something like that, the last rare occurrence was back in 2014 I guess. Nope, neither the epic football encounter, nor a high scoring football match, but a DIVING HEADER! Used to have a lot back then (thanks Mr. Larsson), now its a rarity. Surely a top ten compilation is due? Syfq Amr, a bias Gooner I want that back please I really miss real European football. City/Monaco was as good as United’s 3-3 draws with Barca in the Treble season. Chris MUFC Winners and losers from just one game Winners Man City A 5-3 score line means that City go into the near leg of this tie with a two-goal head start. ‎Almost makes up for having to score four away goals if Monaco win their home game. Leroy Sane Mercurial last night. Plaudits are due elsewhere but that kid will go places. His decision making is impeccable. He carries the ball with poise and grace. City’s stand-out player last season‎ was Kevin de Bruyne but with Sane operating on the left flank, balance. Silva also deserves a mention. Kun Aguero. Sublime. If only one goal tells of how sublime ‎El kun is its his second of the night when the keeper saw and watched him line up the shot and pose for a block, but the ball was so well struck that it must have had subasic wondering if he was mad of ectoplasm. The ball practically went through him without touching him. Sterling deserves a mention as well. Peps half-time talk. Don’t know what he said to them but if City can master their entire game like they did in that second half then they might be unto something. I predicted a City win with lots of goals (everyone did)‎ but not one expected such a rollercoaster. Falcao A friend told me about Falcao’s form coming into the game and he did not disappoint (barring the penalty miss) ‎a diving header and a beautiful chip. Had he scored the penalty it would have been his night and not City’s. Another testament to what they say about format and class. Mbappe was good too. Monaco and away goals. A two-goal deficit, but ‎three away goals. Enough to work with? Over to you Mr Jardim. Losers Monaco and game management. They had the game in the bag. Could have gone back home with something. It should have been easy to just sit back and hit City on the break. They let it get away from them. Even either the penalty miss they should still have managed a draw at the very least. Defending We may blame Stones and Otamendi and condemn them to flop land, but we can’t say any better for the way Monaco defended. They were even worse. ‎The score line might have been exciting but it does not say much for either team’s chances of winning this competition. Not with such defensive frailties. Defenders I mean it was so bad that I have to ‎put this in another category. Stones is young and needs more experience. Otamendi should be benched or sold. Organisation and calm is a big part of defending, but Otamendi defends as though he is the only defender and not in a good way. The effort is there obviously, but as far as headless chickens go… ‎As for Monaco, they should have won but for their inability to manage their lead. Double losers. ‎Antonio matteu. The referee seemed to be enjoying the game so much that he just let loose. Can’t really say he had a bad game, but had the result gone against City, there would be a lot of disgruntled fans in the blue half of Manchester. ‎At least he got the Aguero yellow right. Gotta love CL refs. Better but worse. (hello Ovrebo) ‎Paul, CFC (Man that was hard. Kudos to you guys who have to draw 16 Conclusions from every big game even the boring ones) Stones: Performance art I know he scored but that doesn’t compensate for what a truly awful defender John Stones is. Every time I watch him play I become more and more convinced he’s not actually a professional footballer but rather a performance artist/prankster’s long-drawn out project to show just how over-hyped and over-valued young English players are and that Guardiola is just the victim of a new series of Real Hustle. Simon Clarke …Of course Stones had to go and score a goal to try and change my opinion of him. I’d still rather my defenders know how to defend instead of seeking redemption at the far post. Eoin (he’ll score again and make me look an even bigger fool) Ireland Wow…what a bloody game I was lucky enough to be at the City game last night and well, what a game! Thought I’d write in with a few observations: – First off the atmosphere was electric, as you’d expect with a game like that, the South Stand was absolutely rocking and we got fully caught up in it. The Monaco fans weren’t the loudest I’ve seen here [hats off to Gladbach] but they gave a good account of themselves and as far as I saw I didn’t see any trouble around the city, chatting to a few both during the day and after the match and they all seemed like a good bunch. It was an incredible game for a neutral and I’m usually another of the tourist fans that contribute to the lack of noise around the stadium, but last night I couldn’t help but be a City fan for the evening, the game really had it all. – City’s tactic of switching to a back three when attacking with Fernandinho pushing into midfield was delightful and made them look so dangerous going forward, but they were consistently exposed down the left as Monaco looked to expose the space as the back four shuffled over. When Pep brought Zabaleta on I expected that was to counter that however Sagna often did the same although not so much of an issue when he switched to the right… – Zabaleta was really poor, my mate commented pretty soon after he came on saying he looks like he’s been playing a hundred minutes already. Regularly caught out of position, seemed far too casual and next to Stones who looked lacked awareness consistently was a disaster waiting to happen, and it duly did. Monaco continued to enjoy attacking down the left flank. – We debated it heavily after the game and it was hard to pick between Sterling and Aguero for City’s best player, Sterling made some excellent runs, his link-up play was spot on and he deserved his goal. We settled on Aguero though, as well as his two goals, he dropped deep for the ball at the right times, tracking back successfully and making a handful of notably important tackles. He looked like he playing with a real point to prove and his volley was really well taken. – That Mbappe can really play. I hope the Arsenal links are true, but I’ve grown cynically accustomed not to pay any particular heed to gossip surrounding us until they’ve signed on the line that is dotted. Monaco played some quick transitions and harried City’s back line incessantly having some real joy in the opening stages of the game in particular. Falcao must be really glad to have seen the back of England, that experiment really didn’t work out and I think coming in so quickly off the back of that injury really got him off to a less than ideal start. He looks back to his best and despite a poorly taken penalty played really well and to put away that lob at such close quarters lob was sublime. By far and away the best goal of the night. – Back to Stones, I’m by no means writing him off. He must have shown a lot of promise to all his coaches and the scouts that have seen him to have risen through the game the way he has, but there surely has to come a point where that potential actually translates into something? For large parts of the game he played like he didn’t have a defensive bone in his body, and the whole stadium saw that cut in and shoot coming from a mile off. He seemed genuinely gutted after it and you had to feel for him, glad he got his redemption with the goal. I’ve been to the Etihad a few times since moving to Manchester and I’ve caught some brilliant games here – the Liverpool 4-1, the Chelsea game this season and 2-2 Arsenal the last [for which I was sat in the home end right by the away fans and had to pretend to be a City fan all game. It was poorly thought through, a surreal and mostly unpleasant experience] but this was by far the best of the bunch and what the Champions League is all about! Joe, AFC, Manchester [You signed Phil Jones, we signed Kun Aguero, Kun Aguero] …Quite possibly one of the best football matches ever. Yeah there was some really shoddy defending. However, most people watch football for entertainment purposes, I defy anyone to say that wasn’t entertaining. The are also serious issues that need addressing, but as has been said by both Mourinho and Pep, you can’t change a whole team in one season. So I’m not going to write about them, enough people will be paid to do so in the press. Being a City fan for 20+ years, I have seen my fair share of crazy emotional rollercoaster style games but last night was on another level. After the first goal I was very happy, fantastic skill from Sane and good composure from Sterling. Then Willy and the defence happened and it was suddenly 1-2 Monaco. Little side point, it was really good to see Falcao back to full health and looking sharp. The man was a beast before his injury a few years back. After a quick half time breather, it was 2-2, Sergio! Sergio! Get in, we are back in this! Then Falcao again 2-3, with a sublime finish after making Stones look like a child, and I’m thinking that’s it we’re done. Cue lots of stick off people. BUT NO! The boys only went and pulled out one of the best comebacks ever out the bag. Aguero with a lovely finish, then Stones with a nice goal to redeem himself. Then to top it off, Sergio Aguero on a hat-trick. Having been quite greedy at times recently, plays the ball to Sane who scores and the place erupts, I erupt, my United-supporting brother erupts. It’s 5-3 to City and I’m a mess, I felt like laughing and crying at the same time. That Ladies and Gentlemen is why Football is the greatest game on the planet. In 90 minutes you can experience nearly every emotion possible. Not many other things in life can claim that. I have no clue how the second leg will go. We need to pull out a defensive masterclass, but that isn’t likely. So maybe we will need to outscore the best attack in Europe…again. DANNY B – MCR – MCFC (Our first great European night?) …I was at the Etihad last night to witness one of the best games I’ve seen there. If football is about anything it’s about being able, on occasion, to watch a game like that and hope that the next one you go to makes you feel just as good. I’ve been lucky enough to have a few of those over the last few years but this was probably the best yet. Even at 2-1 and 3-2 down I had to admit is was breathtaking to watch and Monaco were outstanding at times. The quality of their final ball into the box was the best I think I’ve seen. But a huge amount of credit should go to the City players. There aren’t many teams that could go toe to toe with Monaco in terms of attacking intent and it made for a fantastic game of basketball-football. There have been more important games and more relevant results in terms of trophies of course, but that was 90 minutes about the game, not about the tie or the competition, just about the game. Sure there was terrible defending and listening to the radio on the way home you’d think the whole point of football was to eke out a lifeless 0-0 for the purists. But seeing John Stones redeem himself with a goal that was all about will power and Willy doing what he does best, which is save penalties and Sane slaloming through the Monaco defence. Wow, I mean, just wow. But to be fair Falcao’s finish got more than a few appreciative nods in the stands and Bernardo Silva was outstanding for Monaco. And don’t get me started wth Mbappe. And 10 bookings across both teams. I can barely remember a bad foul. It just felt like both teams were resigned to the fact that the only way they could stop the other was by taking a booking for a tug or a trip. I know it’s only half over and I know we could easily be dicked over there or indeed go through 10-10 on away goals, but last night was all about a fantastic game with some brilliant players going at it for 90 minutes in a small microcosm of pure football drama. The players knew it too, so when they raised their arms at the end, it wasn’t because they thought ‘job done’, it was because they were acknowledging they had been part of a simple, beautiful game football and whatever else happens this season it was a real acknowledgment of, and connection to, the fans. It’s why I go to football matches. It’s why I bother watching any football at all to be honest. You just hope you get to see a game played the way kids play football. Steve, Manchester In defence of CL games on BT In response to SW’s claim that the MNC vs Monaco game should have been on free to air TV I’d like to actually praise the coverage that it did get. I’m not going to disagree that it should have been on terrestrial TV but there is an awful lot to commend about BT’s coverage. I tend to watch my football on my tablet, propped up next to my monitor while I’m on my PC or catching up on work on my laptop of an evening (because I’m a boring working dad). The best thing about the service they offer is that I have the option of flicking between all of the games that are in progress and also scrolling backwards to see any goals that may have been scored, as well as yellow or red cards. If the games are boring then I can concentrate on my other screens, but if there is a goal or flashpoint then I can go and review that and decide if I want to watch the rest of the game. Yes, it comes at a premium of £20-odd but the convenience makes it worthwhile for me. I’m not saying that BT Sport is a must for everyone, but it is definitely an object lesson in how games can be presented that Sky, ITV, BBC and possibly Channel 4 next year simply don’t do. Phil, THFC Sad state of affairs for Hong Kong football So, with the arrival of play-off rounds in European cup competitions, the group stages of the Asian Champions League is starting this week too. After a long long absence, a representative from the Hong Kong Premier League is in the group stages this season. It should be a great thing for Hong Kong football fans, however, due to poor management and handling of matters, things are turning sour very quickly… It started before the beginning of this season, when Eastern, last season’s champions, held a press conference stating that due to investment and sponsorship issues, the club will part with all foreign players and high earners, leaving only a core of youngsters to participate in the league, at the same time withdrawing from the Asian Champions League, passing on the spot to last season’s runners-up, Kitchee. In preparation for the Asian Champion League, Kitchee then started scouting and eventually brought in a few quality players from Europe, only for Eastern to hold another press conference right before the registration deadline to announce that they have solved the sponsorship issues and will take their place in the Asian Champions League back. What’s more, for tonight’s match away to Guangzhou Evergrande, Eastern announced two days ago that all travelling fans will not be admitted to the stadium even with the tickets, without giving a proper reason why, just saying it’s an arrangement from the home side and they will provide a compensation of 3000 dollars (that’s about 320 pounds) to each of the ticket holders. Rumours has it that the Chinese government is worried that part of the travelling group will include some Hong Kong people who resented the Chinese government and may display banners or perform actions to show their resentment during the match. Meanwhile, the rule of allocating a certain % of seats to away fans is completely ignored. As for the home leg next month, tickets went on sale last week, without any restrictions. As a result, half of the 6000 tickets found their way to the hands of the Guangzhou Evergrande fans, meaning half of the 6000-seat stadium could possibly be filled with away fans. That would be a really spectacular sight indeed…. Sam S., Hong Kong A long, sad mail about Derby I know there’s not a wealth of Championship correspondence in the Mailbox, so I thought I’d email to sum up my current thoughts about my team, Derby County. Having just got in from watching us play our first ever home league fixture against Burton Albion, with Nigel Clough returning for the first time since he was sacked, this seemed like a good time to reflect on a few things. Firstly, and obviously, Burton have done an incredible job to come as far as they have, and were absolutely brilliant tonight. Their fans were fantastic, they defended brilliantly, they got it, barring the lack of a goal, just right. We were poor, but nothing should be taken away from Burton. Some Derby fans seem to think of it as humiliating that we are in the same league as them, but it’s clearly something that says a whole lot more about Burton than it does about us. Secondly, in the lead-up to this game I’ve heard and read a lot of Derby fans saying it’s all been downhill since we sacked Clough. I have a lot of respect for Nigel Clough and the job he did with us, but that’s clearly rubbish. He guided us through a very difficult time, and without him we could easily be a division or two lower than we are now, but he hit a glass ceiling in terms of what he could achieve with the players he’d brought in. If any Derby fan would trade the last three and a half years, regardless of how those seasons have ended, for attritional football in lower mid-table with an ever-changing cast of anonymous loanees, I’d want to know what they’re smoking. My first match was in 1997, so this is my 20th season supporting Derby. This puts me at the younger end of the spectrum, too young to have enjoyed our glory years for certain, but 20 years is still a long time. In that time we have managed four play-off finishes. Two have come in the last three full seasons. Between 1999 (the end of our last ‘golden period’, and one I remember but was too young to really appreciate) and Steve McClaren’s first appointment in 2013, we managed a grand total of four top-half finishes. The last three seasons we’ve finished 3rd, 8th and 5th. By the standards of the last 20 years the last few years have been a veritable golden age for us. Now, obviously, things are not entirely rosy. We’ve had far too much managerial instability. Since McClaren was sacked we’ve spent vast amounts of money to end up with a squad that’s arguably weaker than the one he left us with. In the short term, we’re on a poor run of form and can, at best, now enter the ‘there’s always next year’ period. But to hear some of our fans you’d think we were in a worse state than Coventry or Blackpool, to pick a couple of examples. You hear often from pundits how fans of teams like Newcastle and West Ham have a certain reputation for getting on the backs of their players. We hear that away teams are told, when visiting these clubs, to keep the opposition at bay for 15 minutes, and the crowd will turn. They’ll boo and nag their own players until they make mistakes. I’d eat my hat if teams don’t get these instructions when they visit Derby, and with good reason. Tonight I heard boos because of an overhit pass in the fifth minute. One man who sits down the row from me has been known to boo after wins before. It’s a toxic atmosphere and there’s no way it can be a positive thing. I look up at the teams in the play-offs. Reading, Huddersfield and Leeds all have one thing in common: they’ve been crap for the last few years. That means that, this season, now they’re doing well, there’s a greater degree of excitement and faith and just sheer joy about them than teams who expect to be challenging for promotion every season. We had that in the 2013/14 season. It’s a cliché but there was a carnival atmosphere at the stadium. The whole city seemed excited. The moment we lost the play-off final, it dissipated. It went from being a novelty to an expectation that we would win. When we didn’t win, the angrier sections of the crowd could immediately point to the fact that we’d beaten the same team last season. The word ‘bottle’ suddenly started getting thrown around willy-nilly. There’s an argument that, for the first half of that season, before we slipped and fell out of the play-offs, we’d been a better side than the season before, and yet it was no fun. That’s the key theme of supporting Derby for the last few years. Even though this should have been a golden era, except for one season it’s been no fun, because expectations have sky-rocketed beyond reality. So where are we now? Not good enough to go up, frankly. We’re a hodge-podge of four different managers’ signings, all signed with the intention of changing our style of play, a style abandoned with each sacking. Some fans – the fans who were quiet when we were climbing from the relegation zone to the play-offs and breaking club records for consecutive clean sheets a couple of months ago – want McClaren gone, or are now insisting they never wanted him back. Of all the managers we’ve gone through in the last few years there’s none I’d trust more to take us up, but he needs to be given time to fix the squad. I have a feeling that, for all that we’ve bemoaned our knee-jerk sackings – well, maybe not Nigel Pearson’s – a lot of fans don’t want that time to be given. I hope I’m wrong and it’s just a vocal minority. Unfortunately they’re very vocal. This is all a bit long and rambling, I know, but the basic point is this: I’ve been supporting Derby County for a fifth of a century, and while I love them dearly we have been, for that time, just another club, in the grand scheme of things. It’s a shame that a lot of our fans are happy to turn us into ‘one of those clubs’. JM, DCFC Always liked that John Murray Whilst listening to the always erudite John Murray discussing ‘piegate’ (urgh) on 5live last night it occured to me “Bloody hell he sounds like the mailbox last week”. Deftly avoiding the asinine subject of an idiot ruining his ‘career’ in thrall to a betting corporation Murray turned the discussion towards the real problems of obscene amounts of money washing through the game thanks to said bookies. He then, affirming my suspicion, namechecked Jonny Nic’s piece last week. So I just wanted to say John, if you are reading, love your work, keep on keeping on. TGWolf (Bugger a selfie, I’ll shout aimlessly into the void instead) THFC The post Thank you Man City and Monaco; we’re in love again appeared first on Football365.

[auburnfamilynews]

  For 60 divine minutes, we had an answer. (90, if you count the first half in Starkville.) The question, of course, had hung in the Auburn air since at least the 2010 Arkansas barnburner, and maybe since Chris Todd was slinging darts in the rain against West Virginia: How good could a Gus Malzahn team be if he developed a top-tier, Tuberville-caliber defense to pair with a peak-performance offense of his own? 

Against Arkansas this past October, we found out. Kamryn Pettway and the offensive line ground the Hog defense to dust; Carl Lawson, Montravius Adams and the rest of Kevin Steele’s defense permitted the Hog offense less than nothing. The final tally of rushing yardage was Auburn 544, Arkansas 25. The final scoreboard read Auburn 56, Arkansas 3. Not even Cam’s national champions, not even the 2013 team in its white-hottest moments registered anything like the kind of scorched-earth obliteration of a bowl-bound SEC rival the 2016 team registered against the Razorbacks.

Which is why, when I took my seat in Jordan-Hare’s north end zone bleachers two weeks later for the Vanderbilt game, I fervently believed Auburn had a puncher’s chance to defeat Alabama, win the SEC, and possibly — it wasn’t totally crazy — get another national title shot. The defense hadn’t been as superb against Ole Miss, but Chad Kelly had made Alabama look silly for stretches, too, and they’d been due for an off-game, and the rushing game had been murderous anyway, and the freshman wideouts were coming along, and Steele would be more comfortable against pro-style offenses anyway, and, and, and, and. The ceiling was that high. This team had shown us. There was no reason it couldn’t keep on showing us.

Then, I don’t remember if it was just before kickoff or just after, my phone told me Sean White wasn’t starting.

I do remember watching John Franklin III take the field and thinking Uh-oh. And at no point for the remaining two months of the season was the status of Auburn football anything other than Uh-oh. That ceiling we’d waited six, seven years for our Tigers to touch? When poor White dropped back in the Sugar Bowl and uncorked the duckiest duck that’s ever ducked, man, that ceiling felt as far away as the moon.

It’s not a scientific assessment, but I’d judge Auburn fans as a whole to be more unhappy at the close of the 2016 season than 2015’s, an assessment that if accurate doesn’t make a damn lick of logical sense. Instead of going 2-6 in the SEC and finishing last in the West, Auburn went 5-3 and finished second. Instead of going 6-6 overall and playing the Birmingham Bowl, Auburn went 8-4 and played the Sugar. Instead of finishing 35th in S&P+ and 29th in Sagarin, Auburn finished 13th and 14th, respectively. And Auburn accomplished that improvement while breaking in its third defensive coordinator in three seasons, adding an eventual playoff finalist to the nonleague schedule and suffering the aforementioned crippling injury to its starting quarterback. By any rational measure, the future looks far brighter than it did a year ago.

So why do I feel like Auburn’s glass is half-empty, even when it’s clearly half-full? Why do I empathize with the criticism avalanche aimed at Malzahn even when I disagree with the overwhelming bulk of it? Why did a season that was so much better than the one before it leave us feeling collectively just as bad, if not worse?

The simplest answer is that the one thing we could expect 2016 to provide us was clarity. Was Gus the coach that in the space of one season brought a 3-9 team to within seconds of a national championship? Or the coach who without the security blanket of a JUCO superstar under center was incapable of even breaking .500? By year’s end, we’d know … except that, whoops, it turns out Gus can be both those coaches not only in the span of a single season, but over the span of a single month. (Auburn fans, you thought you got emotional whiplash going from 2010’s triumphs to 2012’s misery? For our team’s next trick, it’ll go from the Arkansas win to the Georgia loss in all of four weeks.) If you believed coming into this season Gus was the long-term answer, you got plenty of evidence to back you up. If you believed Auburn was better off moving on, you got plenty of evidence to back you up. 2016’s high points were high enough that the team unquestionably moved forward. But the low points were low enough that — much as it hurts to admit — there’s legitimate reasons to doubt how far forward it can keep moving under Gus’s leadership, too.

They’re not all legitimate, of course. There’s things it makes sense to be angry about. There’s things it doesn’t. In the interest of unpacking exactly how we came to be collectively unsatisfied by what should have been a satisfying season, here’s my list of those things, piece-by-piece.

I AM MAD ABOUT: LOSING THE GODFORSAKEN GEORGIA GAME. The Iron Bowl is the game I most want to win. But given the unfortunate state of Crimson Tide affairs these days, the Deep South’s Oldest Rivalry is the game I least want to lose. And that went double entering this year’s edition, what with the Dawgs a mediocre mess that narrowly escaped Nicholls State, lost to Vandy, couldn’t even compete with Ole Miss or Florida, still ranks 58 places lower than Auburn in S&P, etc. And that went quadruple, octuple, hexadecouple when the defense went into Athens and stuffed the Dawg offense in a sack.

I can’t make myself care about how injured White may or may not have been. Can’t about what he may or may not have told the coaches. Can’t about why or why not Franklin or Johnson never saw the field. If all you need from your offense to win the Georgia game is to score more than a net of zero points, for the love of everything holy find a way to score more than a net of zero points. Backup quarterbacks. All-Wildcat offense. Triple-reverse flea flickers. Just please, please, please don’t waste that defensive performance, in this game of all games.

I believe that if Gus’s team cobbles together enough offense not to, no one really much minds losing to Alabama or Oklahoma. But waste it they did. And I’m still angrier about it than any loss since Tony Franklin hit his nadir against Vanderbilt.

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: GUS GOING 1-3 AGAINST ALABAMA. Quit saying “Malzahn is 2-6 vs. Georgia and Alabama, and almost lost in 2013, too.” The Tide’s rank entering the four Iron Bowls Gus has coached: 1, 1, 2,  and 1, and that No. 2 team won the national title. Gus won the greatest game in college football history in 2013, rolled up 630 yards in Bryant-Denny in 2014, and stayed kinda-sorta competitive in 2015 and 2016 despite starting Jeremy Johnson in both. Gus’s track record against Georgia is a major issue. His against the Tide just isn’t.

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: “NOT BEATING ANYBODY.” Among the anti-Gus brigade, the most frequent method of dismissing Auburn’s post-Texas A&M, pre-White injury run seems to be dismissing the level of competition faced during said run. There’s a number of problems with that approach, first and foremost that ignoring a statistically dominant win over LSU — which is LSU, and which also wound up the SEC’s second- or third-best team, and a good deal better than that according to some — is the opposite of fair. Second, as has been noted already, it’s not as if 53-point home wins or 24-point road wins in SEC play have been commonplace even for the very best teams in Auburn’s recent history. Lastly, those margins-of-victory matter. No, they don’t change the win-loss record, and yes, LSU aside, the teams faced between A&M and Georgia weren’t the cream of the SEC’s less-than-bumper 2016 crop. But pretending a 56-3 win over Arkansas doesn’t tell us anything more about how good Auburn is than a 16-3 win over Arkansas hasn’t been in fashion since before Phil Steele first started tracking close-game records and yardage margins. In the early days of 2017, it’s straight-up willful ignorance.

How much credit to give Gus for a single month is (ahem) debatable, but don’t pretend that for that single month Auburn was anything less than a force.

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: LOSING THE SUGAR BOWL WHEN SEAN WHITE BREAKS HIS ARM ON THE FIRST SERIES OF THE GAME. The moment White threw that “pass” — you know the one I’m talking about — the only question was how many points by which Oklahoma would win, and if Musberger could talk himself out of a job before the fourth quarter.

I AM MAD ABOUT: NOT HAVING A VIABLE BACKUP PLAN IN THE EVENT OF A SEAN WHITE INJURY. An incomplete list of people and/or creatures and/or objects that expressed concern over White’s durability this past offseason:

Auburn fans

Detroit Pistons fans

The ghost of Harriet Tubman

Squirrels

Atlas moth caterpillars

An asteroid circling the sun at a distance of 600 million miles from Earth

“White showed enough last year that Auburn might be OK with him as their starter,” a sapient paper clip told me last August, “but health-wise, I gotta see him last the year before I believe it. JF3 had better be ready.”

I’m assuming that, being football coaches and thus a good deal more knowledgable than most sapient paper clips, Auburn’s staff shared the same concerns. But in the end, did it make any difference if they did? Their efforts to address them amounted to “sign Franklin,” a decision that proved so successful Franklin 1. remained on the bench even as White’s arm transmogrified into pudding before our eyes in Athens 2. watched Johnson get the nod in the Iron Bowl, a move even the non-sapient paper clips could tell you gave Auburn the odds of winning I have of assembling my own Volkswagen.

Maybe that’s because Franklin proved incapable of running the offense. Maybe that’s because Auburn’s staff was incapable of teaching the offense*. Either way: Gus went into this past offseason knowing an injury to White had ruined a promising end to the season. And he still failed to prevent an injury to White from ruining an even-more-promising end to this season.

*The “Gus can’t develop quarterbacks” line you’ll hear trotted out in relation to this — or to express skepticism that Jarrett Stidham will alter Auburn’s fortunes at the position — is bunk. Tulsa’s quarterbacks got better under Malzahn. Chris Todd got better. Title game weirdness aside, Cam got better. Once-and-future defensive back Nick Marshall threw for 456 yards at Alabama. White’s gotten better every healthy game he’s started, to the point he was the most efficient passer in the SEC when he got hurt. If Gus couldn’t develop Johnson or Franklin into workable starting options, the evidence-to-date suggests that’s more a Johnson or Franklin issue than a Gus one.

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: LOSING THE CLEMSON GAME. Those guys are pretty good, it turns out. Can’t wait to play them again in Clemson next year!

I AM MAD ABOUT: THE WAY IN WHICH THE CLEMSON GAME WAS LOST. Perhaps I should have let go of my anger over Gus’s Carousel of “Progress” by now. I haven’t. Not because it’s that much of an opportunity lost, really — if Auburn wins that game*, a 9-3 mark with a win over the eventual ACC champs vaults them all the way into … the Sugar Bowl — but because the remainder of the season made trotting out Franklin and Johnson alongside White as three-headed quarterbacking equals look stupid beyond all previously accepted measures of stupid. Could the gulf between White and his backups really be that obvious on the playing field and that obscure on the practice field? Is it too much to ask that if every fan knows this is Sean White’s offense to operate by Week 3, that Auburn’s offensive braintrust know the same before Week 1?

The charitable view is that Malzahn entered this season desperate, and desperate people sometimes do dumb things they wouldn’t otherwise do. The uncharitable view is that if the carousel itself was a one-time mistake, the A&M, Georgia and Oklahoma performances proved the resulting offensive implosion more feature than bug. And ultimately, that’s what makes me maddest of all. Let’s be clear:

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: WHERE THIS PROGRAM STANDS GOING INTO 2017. Marlon Davidson and Derrick Brown are set to become the new Carl Lawson and Montravius Adams. Carlton Davis and Javaris Davis share as much All-SEC cornerback potential as they do a last name. If losing Alex Kozan and the dreadfully underrated Robert Leff will hurt, returning Austin Golson, Braden Smith and Darius James — oh, and Herb Hand — will heal. The freshman wide receiving crew won’t be the freshman wide receiving crew any more. Kamryn Pettway and Kerryon Johnson will continue to only make the other that much better. Kevin Steele knows what he’s doing, it turns out.

Then there’s Jarrett Stidham, likely the highest-ceilinged Auburn quarterback prospect since Cam, whose arrival means Gus now has — it’s worth repeating — the SEC’s highest-rated quarterback at midseason as his fallback option. Woody Barrett may not keep quiet, either. Auburn’s biggest problem for two years running has been its depth at quarterback. Its depth at quarterback now appears to be one of its biggest strengths. This alone should be cause for unalloyed optimism, even before discussing the positives from the paragraph preceding this one.

That even I can’t summon too much of that logically justified optimism speaks to how much of a toll the past two seasons have taken on our collective faith in Gus’s offensive acumen. Maybe there’s sound reasons for what we saw against Clemson, A&M, and Georgia, sound reasons to believe we won’t see the same things again at the worst possible times. But I can’t shake the feeling that the Gus of the Chizik era would have had his offensive identity on firmer footing before breaking out the Chandler Cox wildcat gadgetry, would have wizarded up something to salvage that trip to Athens, certainly would not have punted on fourth-and-damn-inches with a reeling defense in the second half of the Sugar Bowl. If the past two seasons haven’t felt anything like the Malzahn salad days in the win column, they’ve felt even less like it in terms of creativity, of chutzpah, of the damn-the-huddle-up-torpedoes mentality Gus brought with him from Tulsa. There wasn’t any shortage of spread gurus even in 2009, but as recently as 2014, all the evidence suggested Gus was cut from a unique — and uniquely talented — cloth, even among his HUNH peers. Far too often in 2016, it felt like Auburn was just another middle-of-the-road SEC team, like Gus has become Dan Mullen with better players.

There’s far worse things to be, of course. Mullen took Mississippi State to No. 1 and the Orange Bowl two seasons ago. If Gus giving up a portion of his old bravado was somehow necessary to put together the kind of defense we saw in 2016, it’s probably worth it. No one, myself included, gives a crap about how fast Auburn snaps the ball or how often it goes on fourth-and-short when it’s beating Arkansas 56-3.

I’m not mad Gus will get the chance to prove that performance is what the future of his Auburn tenure will look like. I’m happy 2016 gave us reasons to believe it will. I’m glad to enter 2017 with hope. But 2016 was supposed to take us past belief, past hope, to the point where we know — for better or worse — where Auburn stands with its head coach. I’m mad that it didn’t. And until that point is reached, it’s going to be hard to look back at this season and feel any other way.

Photo credit: @OUDailySports

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