50-48 #24: THE STATE OF TENNESSEE—ITS ROLLING HILLS, ITS GOOD-NATURED IF SOMEWHAT TRASHY CITIZENS, ITS URBAN SPRAWL, ITS FLORA AND FAUNA—NOW BELONGS T

(Originally published 3/16/08)

50-48 #24: THE STATE OF TENNESSEE—ITS ROLLING HILLS, ITS GOOD-NATURED IF SOMEWHAT TRASHY CITIZENS, ITS URBAN SPRAWL, ITS FLORA AND FAUNA—NOW BELONGS TO US. THEY ARE OUR BITCHES, AND WE ARE THE BRASH MOTHERFUCKERS WHO BITCHIFIED THEM.

"Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength."

Though August Wilson died in 2005,—succumbing as he did to the harsh judge of liver cancer, drowning as he was in the excess plays and effluvia he was never able to finish—his ghost managed to escape the purgatory of playwrights all kinds—past the sullen Harold Pinter and the mumbling Arthur Miller, the regret still showing on what was left of his face—and arrive back on earth. He took Interstate 30. (He was coming, of course, from Texas; everyone who isn't good enough to go to heaven is immediately sent somewhere in Texas, with serial killers, child molesters, members of any university's "communications" department being sent straight to Austin to experience hell without the patient torture of a waiting-room experience.) He took 40 at North Little Rock, then 540 just before Fort Smith. He took exit 63, Razorback Road, then traveled past Baum Stadium, that shiny new Chic-Fil-A, and the new park and tailgating facility. He marched into Bud Walton Arena, looked Darian Townes and Charles Thomas in the eyes. Darian told Charles that he was nervous. Charles understood. He said, "Maybe that's because each of us has an unlicensed nuclear accelerator on his back." Darian nodded in agreement before Wilson bored the above quote into their brains, searing it into the parts of their brains that no amount of pot, illicit sex, DUI charges, or anything else could touch. And then he slimed them.

The now-dead August Wilson is a mischievous ghost.

But his slime, apparently, was the marinade that sealed those words into the brains of the boys, as the basketball team has played like a group possessed. On Friday, they took down the by-god #14 Vanderbilt Commodores, rich and privileged fucks that they are. I regret to say that I did not see the game. Instead, I was at a stupid history conference, talking to stupid history people about stupid history things, while three short states away the Hogs were vanquishing the second-best three-point shooter in the league and the sure-fire SEC player of the year. Instead, I followed the game at various points on a hotel lobby computer and a borrowed cellular telephone. Still, though the victory was lived vicariously, it was victory nonetheless. We defeated the Dores for the second time this season, and this time we didn't even need the fumbling chronic-masturbator Ross Neltner to seal the deal for us. The conference faded away like a bad dream. Beautiful cardinal and white rose in its place. We were headed to the semifinals.

Still, though Vanderbilt fell to defeat and the conference, stupid as it may have been, went well, I was still left without any confidence for semifinal round against Tennessee. They didn't just beat us last month. They laid a good-ole-fashioned Southern ass-whipping on us, winning by 20 and never really breaking a sweat. It was to my mind our worst loss of the season, because we looked so sincerely less able than them. Less talented. Less everything. And so when I fired up my Yahoo Raycom internet service yesterday, I wasn't expecting much. But I was hoping, ever hoping.

And then it happened. Steven Hill, who has been the victim of ridicule for his lack of strength, lack of offensive production, and lack (at times) of effort ever since escaping that cesspool of Branson, made a strong catch under the basket, a relatively decent offensive move on his defender, and ultimately, the shot that won the Hogs the game. They were his only points of the game. In a postgame interview, Hill referred to himself as an underutilized offensive weapon and began calling for more touches. 50-48 always approves of self-deprecating humor. Charles Thomas and Darian Townes celebrated justly. They were named 50-48's co-MVPs and will soon receive a large cardboard check and tiara. Thomas had 24 points, 10 rebounds, 2 assists, 2 steals, and a block in only 28 minutes of play. Townes had 16, 3, 2, 1, and 1 in only 21 minutes of play.

Let this sink in for a moment: The Hogs are back in the SEC championship game. They have a senior-laden team who is obviously not ready to stop playing basketball anytime soon. They have a highly regarded recruiting class coming in next year. In the Tennessee game, Coach Pel got a technical for telling that blind asshole Doug Shows that he missed another in a series of calls against Tennessee. He told JaJuan Smith, star Volunteer guard, to "shut the fuck up." 50-48 is not yet ready to predict the return of Hogball to national prominence, but its author is pretty confident that we're going to be seeing it sometime soon.

And, of course, winning today will do wonders toward paying off on that notion. In the second game of the night, surprise Cinderella team Georgia beat West #1 Mississippi State to move to the championship game. The Dogs actually played TWO games yesterday because of the much publicized weather problems in Atlanta that partially tore the roof of the Georgia Dome and postponed their quarterfinal match with Kentucky. (We are, for those of you living under a rock, playing the remainder of the tournament on the campus of Georgia Tech, former SEC member who pussied out early in last century's second half.) Georgia has been playing well, and like us, it is probably due to senior leadership. Dave Bliss and Sundiata Gaines have been playing basketball at Georgia ever since James Oglethorpe decided that the area looked like a nice place for a prison colony. This is their last run, and they are doing their best to take advantage of it. Making matters more difficult for us, they both seem like really nice guys—people for whom you might otherwise root.

But today is not a day for otherwise. At 2:30, on ESPN 2, the Razorbacks will play Georgia for the SEC Tournament title and an automatic bid into the NCAA tournament. The bids will be handed out later today at 5:00. [EDITOR'S NOTE: Expect another 50-48 later tonight providing emergency updates on these crucial goings-on.]

Wow. This is all too much for my poor, malfunctioning heart to take. We looked really, really good yesterday against a really good team. It was like poetry. It was like the first time you discovered T.R. Hummer and realized that poetry was more than pretentious jerk-offs jerking off on paper. That it could be beautiful. That it could make words into a symphony. The Hogs are providing the hard sheen and butterflies of those wonderful moments again. We are returning, and that might be even better than never having left at all.

Let me now briefly turn to the other news of the day. NCAA and SEC officials read their 50-48s diligently last week, just as I am sure all of you did. And based on the information I provided, they did the only just thing and named Aaron Murphuree player of the week. His largesse, however, did not carry the boys home through the wilds of Arizona, as the #1 Arizona State Sun Devils topped the Diamond Hogs 7-6 and 7-4. I will not provide links. You don't want to read them. This weekend, Georgia is in town and we have split the two games played so far. Yesterday's loss, however, was particularly calamitous, as we gave up a 9 run lead to lose 14-11. We have young players. It's early in the season. But surely there are no mitigating factors that can make this acceptable. Never fear. Dave Van Horn is probably sacrificing a live goat somewhere to ensure this will never happen again. He does what needs to be done to succeed. And I have total faith in him. (I would have less faith, of course, were I a goat.)

And finally, in football/gymnastics news, Mitch Mustain and Damien Williams attended the Arkansas/UCLA gymnastics meet last weekend, sporting Hog gear and rooting for the old alma mater. This is, along with the Tennessee victory, the best news of the week. God love those boys. When they are on the field this season, I will gladly shout, "Fight on!" (Well, maybe not shout. I'll whisper it. In the privacy of my own home. Under a blanket.)

But in the "keeping our eyes on the prize" category, let me return us finally to basketball. The SEC tournament has not been the colossal disappointment that it very well could have been. Instead, we have a chance to avenge an early season loss and win a championship to boot. We have a chance to send our seniors out on a glorious high note. We have a chance to give Billy Clyde Gillispie a big fuck you. And—most importantly—we have a chance to wrestle with our demons and cause our angels to sing. It's the reason we play. It can save us.

August Wilson also wrote, "It ain't nothing to find no starting place in the world. You just start from where you find yourself." Today we find ourselves on the precipice of a championship. We will start from where we find ourselves. And we will win.

50-48
Fuck Texas
WPS


[AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry about the lack of funny hyperlinks this week. But we have business to attend to today, and I am in fucking business mode. I feel championship. Can taste championship. And I am having trouble thinking about anything else. Go hogs go.]