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Orange Blooded [2563]

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Posts: 2835

Joined: 11/29/12

Re: Swoosh!

Nov 20, 2014, 4:35 PM [ in reply to Swoosh! ]

Damm dude - that's actually pretty close. I remember it like it was yesterday...

It was after the Syracuse game and Cole had left it all on the field and once again thrown up a dominating performance. He'd spent the last 3+ hours battling off the Orangemen with that cannon of an arm and I wanted to be the first to congratulate him. As the seconds ticked down on the scoreboard, I quickly made my way to the wall. 3... 2... 1... Boom! "Cole Wins! Cole Wins!" the announcer screamed. Men from both sides had collapsed from sheer exhaustion and were strewn about everywhere. The field, now covered with a haze of cannon smoke celebrating our win, resembled something not unlike Gettysburg. My fiance' (although I was questioning my leanings in that moment) stood by, hoping I'd help her over our wall, but I had other plans in mind. I had a towel, given to me by the grandson of the trusty towel manager to John Heisman, and rumor was Heisman himself had used this towel to dry his brow on this same field I was now about to plant myself on. The towel, along with a frosty beverage I had just purchased from the concession stand were about to be my meager offerings to Cole - Mr. Stoudt, as I like to say - rewards he had so bravely earned fighting the yankees from the North. I cleared that wall in one leap, not even one drop of the beverage leaving the confines of the cup. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear "Wisertime?!? Babe!! Uhhh... What the h3ll are you doing?!?" - my fiance' calling for help as she watched me gallop toward my hero. Her cries were useless, as I had trained my eyes on Cole, him nodding with a smile as he surveyed the carnage laid out on the field in front of him. Hoards of reporters gathered around, eager to hear his incredible tale. Beyond them, politicians chewing their cigars, expressed disbelief of what they had seen, and how surely Cole would be our President some day. I started to cry as I watched a young mother hold her newborn child up over the crowd of reporters - she was begging that Cole kiss her child, a request that Cole was more than happy to oblige. I watched as his giant arms grabbed that baby, held him high for the whole world to see, and then so elegantly kissed that baby right on the forehead. Tears, now streaming down my face and into the $9 cup of Coca-Cola started to flood my vision, but nothing could stop me from my mission - to congratulate this man; my hero. Less than 20' away, and I was closing quickly... 15... 14... 13... And then sonof@b1tch... I slipped and fell. I don't understand - my feet were as sure as they'd ever been, firmly planted on the field that Cole himself had planted, watered and cared for. But something gave and I fell to our war-torn battlefield, drenching myself in the gift that I had so carefully planned to present to Cole Stoudt... I continued crying on that field as he was carried out of the stadium, paraded out onto the streets like a hero for all to see.

Yep - doctor's say I sprained my LCL... All seems to be okay though - hoping I'm back in good shape by 11/29 so I can get back in the stadium and watch Cole decimate the gaycocks.

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Close, but you were thinking of the wrong game!!!

It was Wake Forest. A cold night, early November. Wisertime had just gathered bearings after receiving a drink to the back of his #18 jersey he wore to every game, "accidentally" delivered by a Wake fan just 2 rows up from his seat. The North Carolina winters seemed to be a bit colder as the opponent was within range to win the game. The defense battled and stopped with their last breath. They cried out, "PLEASE, save us Mr. Stoudt". Abruptly, trumpets roared mightily through the noise of the crowd, silencing the demonic yelps coming from the once raging black and gold sea. Riding his chariot from what seemed to be an invisible mountain was a man with the most beautiful flowing hair anyone had ever seen. He straightened as the chariot came to a halt. He spoke only 4 words, "Give. Me. The. Ball." Those words rang out striking fear into the hearts of all who heard. With a flick of his Golden Locks, he strode forth, delivering one sideways throw after another with such precision, one wondered if the source of his power was likened unto Samson of the biblical era. He pressed forth as Wisertime stood shocked and awed that his hero may once again save this god-forsaken army and lead them to victory. Seconds felt like hours and when the final toll came, Cole Stoudt had been victorious. Wisertime rejoiced thanking every god he had ever believed in and showed no patience when proceeding to congratulate his hero! He burst forth like a butterfly from its cocoon, bounding joyfully to meet his beloved. His fiance yelled behind him, "What are you, ghey?", to which he paid no mind. He dropped to his knees and kissed his feet thanking him for all he had done. But...to his horror, he looked up and it was not his hero. It was Dabo. He had put the helmet on and the jersey and given HIMSELF the MVP of the game award. Dabo IS COLE STOUDT???? THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING!!!

Something like that. Details are a bit fuzzy.

OK

Going to have to relax like the rest of us and wait... Best

Pretend NO

Re: OK

He's a man.

Re: He's a man.

Yes, he will play.***

Re: OK

Re: OK

Swoosh!

Depending on the injury

Re: Depending on the injury

Re: Swoosh!

Re: Swoosh!

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