The Stinging Bite of the Newspaper Smackdown

Rick Neuheisel made some waves earlier this week by taking out a full-page ad laying the smackdown to cross-town rivals USC.

Needless to say, we here at the House Rock Built admire the chutzpah of throwing down the gauntlet, particularly in doing so in such an old-timey fashion. Seriously, newspapers? In an age of television and radio and, ahem, blogs and such, taking out a newspaper to send a message is recklessly old-school. By god, I don't even think Pete Carroll even reads the newspaper. It would be much more effective to send a message via, I dunno, facebook or Twitter or some shit.

Mission accomplished, thousands of dollars saved.

Not surprisingly, Neuheisel isn't the first coach to take to the press for local trash talk, although there has been a pretty big layoff between the last prominent newspaper ad, when the 1889 Rutgers football team dropped the gauntlet on intrastate rivals Princeton. Sadly, Rutgers dropped its next 13 meetings against Princeton, which goes to show the dangers of hubris.

Cyber T-Shirt Cannon: Strike While the Iron is Red and Inflamed

Think fungal infections ravaging through a football team's loins is funny? Your goddamned right you do! Maybe it's time you make a statement with this fashionable shirt from the House Rock Built's gift shop. It's all the rage, you know.

3,000 Words

Two Upsets, 250 Beers, and One Broken Femur Later...

The House Rock Built is back from Florida, and I've gotta admit, I got every penny's worth of entertainment in my 36 hours in the Sunshine State. The Friday night showdown at Raymond James Stadium was thrilling, and I stormed the field with the USF students after the Bulls pulled off an improbable upset against the #5 West Virginia Mountaineers. Throw in the fact that they sold beer in the stadium and that I got to grab singlet guy, and you've got the makings of an awesome day.

The guy giving the shocker... his t-shirt says "Groethe > Tebow"

Saturday we took the show on the road to Gainesville and casually watched the Irish game. The Irish Outsider and I decided to do a shot every time the Irish made a grievous blunder, and a half full of interceptions, fumbles, failures to field punts at the 12 yard line, 3rd and 29 conversions acceded, and ridiculous penalties left us staggering drunk before we knew what had happened. The game improved a bit and it looks like this team is slowly learning to play football, which I guess is good. i compare it to a baseball player finally reaching the revelation that you're supposed to hold the skinny end of the bat and immediately having his batting average jump 100 points. Baby steps.

More drinking, more shennanigans, me knocking Orson Swindle unconscious and doing a Shawne Merriman "lights-out dance" over his mangled body during a pickup football game, and the War Eagle pulling out a shocker in the swamp made for a great day. I'm going to post my full travel recap later this afternoon, but I'm back, I'm alive, and I won't be back in Florida until my court date next month.... but I'm telling you, that police horse was just asking to get punched in the face. It was entrapment.

The House Rock Built Woke Up in Ybor City

Well, kids, the Hobo Tour 2007 continues this weekend with a doubleheader of monster proportions. I'm just heading out to O'Hare to cruise down to Tampa to take in the USF-West Virginia game tonight, and will cap off the weekend by surfing up to Gainesville to watch Florida-Auburn. I've packed my deep south survival kit, and will report back on my covert operation deep in the heart of the scary South. Anyone want any souvenirs? I'm already going to try to stuff Percy Harvin into my carry-on bag and give him to Charlie Weis, so I'm not going to have a lot of extra room.

Anyway, take care of the joint while I'm gone. Go Irish and War Eagle and Go Gators and whatnot.

You don't wann go there, mama. Dem's a bad place.

Blogpoll: The Deeper The Wound, The Harder I Swoon And Wish That That Was Me

Rank	Team	Delta
1	LSU	--
2	Southern Cal	2
3	Florida	2
4	Oklahoma	2
5	California	2
6	West Virginia	--
7	Clemson	1
8	Oregon	1
9	Boston College	12
10	Alabama	16
11	South Carolina	2
12	Texas	2
13	Wisconsin	2
14	Ohio State	4
15	Kentucky	11
16	South Florida	3
17	Missouri	9
18	Michigan State	8
19	Penn State	3
20	Cincinnati	6
21	Rutgers	8
22	Nebraska	7
23	Arizona State	3
24	Hawaii	1
25	Texas A&M	3
Dropped Out: Georgia Tech (#12), UCLA (#14), Arkansas (#17), Louisville (#20), Georgia (#23), Washington (#24).

Happy fun times! Week three is in the books and my ballot is up. At first glance, I'm seeing a lot of green and red arrows. I'm not completelyl schizophrenic, I just think that this third week has given us good cause to re-evaluate the top teams, cut losses with the dogs at the bottom, and reward scrappy little guys who have strung together wins against quality competition while the big boys are feasting on scrumptious cupcakes like Coastal Carolina, the dregs of the Sun Belt conference, and Notre Dame (d'oh!).

Oh, and the title of the post is from the song "Broken Heart", by Motion City Soundtrack. Their new album, "Even if it Kills Me" just dropped today and is in heavy rotation at the HRB bunker. If you like upbeat, synth-heavy whiny white boy rock, I'd recommend you give it a spin.

• Southern Cal regains its rightful place at 1A. Yeah, it's a little unfair to dump a team four places after a bye week like I did in my last ballot, but with the paucity of data on this Trojan team, I really had no choice. Just as I predicted, though, Southern Cal showed that they remain that insurmountable force we all knew they were going to be, and that they will have no problem trouncing the skulls of all the poor bunnies that are led to sacrifice against them. It's a tossup now between them and LSU, but when in doubt, err on the side of the gorilla with a chainsaw for a penis.



Worth another look on my blogpoll ballot.


• Florida storms back onto the scene. Florida had a bit of an inauspicious start on my preseason ballot, clocking in at number 11 mostly because of a hefty 15 points in the "show me first escrow". Suffice to say, I've been shown. Percy Harvin and Tim Tebow have not only taken those 15 points from me, but also my wallet, my girlfriend, and bitchin' Camaro. Welcome to the show, Gators. October 6 is going to be a horrifying bloodbath that will likely leave the southern half of the United States coated in smoking, radioactive ruins and werewolf fur.



• Bama, Boston College, and Kentucky catch a rocket ride. Sure, it might seem a bit irrationaly exuberant to bump two unranked teams into the top ten, but I like the cut of these teams gibs. Boston College has started the season with 3 in-conference games and cruised through them quite effortlessly, including a convincing pasting of Georgia Tech. With a veteran quarterback and some good mojo, they're beginning to look like a big fish in the admittedly small pond in the ACC.
  
  The same thing with Bama. Their win over Arkansas was inspired, and they're 2-0 in conference with an evil genius at the helm. Kentucky gets love just because watching highlights of students storm the field makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.



Wee! Tear 'em down!


• A big whatever for the rest of the pack. This is where the biggest swing is. The last ten spots more or less go to whoever has put together a couple impressive games in a row. Anyone who breaks my tenuous confidence gets unceremoniously booted from the ship in favor of a new, jazzier team to round out the bottom of the top 25. It was nice having you around, Tyrone Willingham. As I told you last week, your stay was over quickly, you did not enjoy it, and I am not your king.
  

Sliding Doors

Just outside of Battle Creek, MI, my friend in the passenger seat turned to me and asked if I wanted a cookie. I mulled the decision for a few seconds, quickly calculating the positives and negatives of the decision. I froze for a second, as I found myself exactly 50/50 on whether or not to accept said cookie. I did a mental coinflip and elected to decline the cookie.

Five hours later, I yelled "fuck" at Michigan Stadium.

---

It's strange how one decision, which seemed so inconsequential at the time, can set into motion a chain of events that could in no way be anticipated. It's only in the harsh hindsight that I realized that my embarassing outburst was not in any way under my control, but rather the final domino in a long, bizarre Rube Goldberg-esque mousetrap machine that I was a small, completely unwitting participant in. Let me unfurl this contraption for your amusement:



First of all, it's important to realize this wasn't just any cookie I was offered. It was a fancy individually-wrapped cookie sent to my friend by a law firm he interviewed with in a care package to bribe him into taking the job. The winner of the 2007 World Cookie Championship award (according to the sticker on the label), this cookie was a 500-calorie chocolate-chippety bastard oozing with caramel, oatmeal, and chunks of delicious lard, which I found out as I wolfed it down the next morning to chase away my blazing hangover from my post-game efforts to drink away the afternoon. Now, I don't know about you, but a 500 calorie cookie is a hearty meal for a person like myself, and would have most assuredly slaked my hunger well into the evening, had I elected to consume it. Instead, I went into Ann Arbor with an empty stomach.

A few hours after the offer on the road in Battle Creek, I landed in Ann Arbor, prepared for a very sarcastic and certainlly unfulfilling afternoon of football. I availed myself of some Sangria at a tailgate, tracked down my tickets, and then worked my way over to the remote stage for WAAM to do an interview with Brian Cook and Jim Walsh about Here Come the Irish and Hail to the Victors. After a lighthearted chat with the local radio, I found myself in possession of a VIP pass for WAAM's tailgate. With kickoff quickly approaching and one more ticket to pick up, I found myself in a bit of a time crunch. I again was confronted with a choice: hit up the hospitality tent and grab a bratwurst or head over to the portable toilet and expel some urine. Seeing that there was a line about six or eight people long at the toilet, I decided I only had time to do one, and, due to my refusal of the cookie, hunger was rapidly becoming a top priority. Having no other choice, I loaded up a brat with sauerkraut and spicy mustard and decided to wait until I was inside the stadium to address my other need. I finished half the weiner before I got to the gate and pitched the rest in the trash.

Flash forward to the early third quarter. The going was rough (but I don't need to tell you that), but I was handling it like a trooper. Any sense of animosity in the section had dissipated once it became clear that this game wasn't going to be competitive, and I spent the game cracking jokes with the Michigan fans around me. My biggest cheer came late in the second quarter, where a somewhat promising drive had the Irish's total yardage rapicly closing in on 0. When our yardage hit negative-9 yards, I stood up and cheered wildly, shouting "Single digit negative, baby! Oh, yeah!" The fans around me laughed along and gave me high-fives. They also patted me on the back and reassured me when we gave up a sack on the next play and promptly droped back to double-digit negative yardage. The point is, I was handling the de-pantsing with class, grace, and a very robust sense of humor. However, at that point, my bladder had reached critical mass, and I realized I had to address the urge immediately. Not being too let down by missing some gametime, I headed down to the toilets to take care of business and save myself a few minutes of watching the atrocity on the field.

As I reached the concourse, I was stunned whan I saw the restroom. There wasn't a line for the men's room, per se, but an amorphous blob of antsy dudes tap-dancing with bladder fatigue about 25 deep and 10 broad. I walked to the other end of the stadium and saw an even larger line at the other restroom, so I dubiously returned to the line of something like 250 people and waited patiently to do my duty. I somehow survived the ordeal without making a mess of myself and strolled out of the men's room about 20 minutes after I had left my seat. No worries, since I hadn't missed anything eventful on the field, but still an aggravating hassle. Nevertheless, my spirits were still high and I was resolved to make it to the end without losing my cool. I went back to my section and saw a line of about 20 people waiting to get into the aisle to work their way toward the seats. At this point, the last thing I wanted to do was wait in another line, particularly for something that... you know, it doesn't make any sense for there to be a line for. It was at that moment that I spotted some fans walking by with a Domino's pizza box. Having only a half a bratwurst (and no cookie) in my system and very low morale, I realized that some pizza would do wonders in lifting my spirits, and worked my way down the hill (I had to jump a fence to bypass the crowd, but it was a short, managable hop) and grab some 'za.

"Two slices of pepperoni," I said, carefully extracting $4 from my wallet.

"Sorry, sir," replied the person at the counter. "We just sold our last slice."

You know the vertigo effect? You know, in Hitchcock movies where the camera pans in and zooms out on a person's face really rapidly, usually accompanied by shrieking horror music?



Yeah, so that happened. The world went black, my pupils dilated, my fists clenched, and I suddenly became bathed in a frigid sweat. I blacked out, but when I came to a few seconds later, I could hear words reverberating in my ears in my voice:

"Man, FUCK this place!"


Ohhhhh.... ffffffffuuuuuuuudddge!

---

I feel bad that I did it, and I feel bad because there were probably some impressionable young kids in earshot of my outburst. And while I'll take full responsibility for what I did, I think it's important for everyone to know that I had no control over it. The entire, unavoidable, fatalistic machine had been set into motion six hours ago and 100 miles away when I decided not to take the cookie.

Let this be a warning to all of you. In the future, whenever you're offered a cookie, think of the children and take it. We're all in this together, I'm pulling for you.

Off To The Whore!

Hey, skaters. I'm off to that filthy trollop known as Ann Arbor to watch what maybe, possibly, probably not be the Irish's first victory of the year. Nevertheless, I'll try and bring the hate, root on our boys, and discreetly defecate on a variety of campus landmarks. If any of you lost souls will be out there, you're more than welcome to toss a beer with me. Just look for the guy wearing this shirt:

Win or lose, it will still be true...

If you're jealous of my dashing shirt, which you should be, fret not, brother! You can have your own by jaunting over to the HRB shirt store.

For those text-messaging types, the HRB hotline will be wide open on my iPhone during the game. Just shoot an IM to "applesaucechoke" (it's the only HRB-related screen name I could find that wasn't already registered. Thanks, Valenti.) with your in-game observations and whatnot. I'll be surrounded by Michigan grad students, so any company I can get would be much appreciated.

Peace out. Onward to... uh, solvency.

Gooooo Food-Ball! The House Rock Built Hobo Tour 07 Hits Northwestern

Bask in its purpleness! Nobody in the stands could explain why there is a giant "Z" at midfield.

Week two is in the books, ladies, and the wheel of pain keeps on a-spinnin'. The House Rock Built took the show on the road this weekend and hoofed it up to Evanston (the mythical magical suburb that is completely inaccessible by any known highway) to take in the Northwestern - Nevada morning game. The only way to get there? Up, Left, Down, Left, dawg.

Difficuilty getting there aside, it was a solid road trip and a good way for me to get Bloo and the interns out of the Fire Mark May compound while Trev Alberts was in his dreaded and hyperdestructive "brown liquor mood". The sun was shining bright, the ladies were... um, nonthreatening, and the game was, in three words, purple, purple, and purpler. I know that, strictly speaking, Nevada-Reno sports "Cobalt Blue", but as you can see, it leans precariously on the indigo side of the visible light spectrum. Combined with the raging "Royal Purple" duds the Wildcats were sporting, the entire scene was horrifyingly nerve-racking for an acute porphyrophobic like myself who has spent years in counseling and countless dollars on prescription medication to control their condition. A lot of positive work was undone in one afternoon... homeboy fell off the wagon.


Fucking kill it!

The locals treated us to some entertainment, particularly this enthusiastic pep poster we spotted on the shuttle from the (free of charge, motherfuckers!) parking lot to Ryan Field. I'd like to introduce the world to "Go Food-Ball!", the newest House Rock Built Neologism that I'm really hoping catches on across the college football world. Say it loud, say it proud. Go Food-Ball.


The newest member of the HRB Neologism family. Eight pounds, six ounces of pure college football hilarity. Photo adeptly snapped by the Irish Outsider.

One final cosmetic note about the game is the incredibly similarity in the logos of the two teams. The similarity is so striking that I can't help but theorize that the only reason these two teams, with nary a geographic or historical tie betwixt them, scheduled each other for a September non-conference game: a drunken challenge between two athletic directors at the annual NCAA rules meetings about who has the better anthropomorphic quasi-purple "N" logo.


Northwestern, meet bizarro Northwestern.

Oh, and the game was awesome, too. In a weekend with some big-time laughers (every game that was broadcast in Chicago was settled by more than 30 points), watching Northwestern's quarterback, C.J. Not-Kafka lead the Cats on a last-minute desperation drive to a game-winning touchdown with 26 seconds left was the thrill of the weekend. All in all, a pretty fun weekend. Keep your eyes open for future stops on the HRB Hobo Tour 07. Stay thirsty, my friends. Go Food-ball.

Slants and Drops

Ahoy, kids. The House has been riding the rails this last week, sidetracked by his 9-5 job: professional hobo. Needless to say, some time jumping on boxcars and eating tins of beans with his one-eared dog has helped alleviate the sting of last week's old-fashioned beatdown. It's sunny outside, the birds are chirping, and we still have 12 weeks of football to enjoy, so let's not get too pouty and move on down the line.

• Obligatory post-game commentary. Obviously, it was a disaster. Not quite "Hiroshima" or "Titanic"... more like "Edmund Fitzgerald" or the Sloop John B. At any rate, it was tiny boat vs. furious ocean, my fist vs. brick wall, Triangle Man vs. Particle Man, or any other historical one-sided fight you can think of. I'm pretty sure the Irish wouldn't have scored a touchdown if the game was 30 quarters long, which it mercifully wasn't.
  
  
  I feel so broke up, I wanna go home.
  
  Hey, them's the breaks though. A brand new offense lining up against a Tech defense that eats n00bs for breakfast, it wasn't too hard to make sense of what happened, particularly with Tech's propensity to come out of the gate and humiliate green offenses (they've done it four openers in a row). I think they've got a good squad, and I think that (future all-Hairmerican) Phillip Wheeler is damn lucky that they don't test players in the NCAA for being 3,000 year old mutant robots forged in the smithy of hell. I think the NFLPA screens for that, so you're probably looking at the peak of his career now.
  
  To use a baseball analogy, sometimes your ace gets kicked around for 10 runs in the first inning. That's how it goes. You yank him, put in the mop-up guy, take the loss, and get ready for the next ballgame. Yeah, the gameplan sucked, yeah, the quarterback decision sucked, and yeah, there were blunders and errors in execution all over the place. The good news is that it only counts for one loss. Bring in Jimmy Clausen, let the youngster take his licks, and look for something to be happy about every week. Wash down with a quart of Wild Turkey and call me in the morning. The doctor is in.



• Dink and Dunk Have Turned Pro. What started out as a goofy quarterly comic strip has turned big time, as the fellas have made their way over to The Fanhouse. A bigger audience, a weekly strip, and (of course) some cold hard cash for your boy. Keep your eyes peeled. Hope it doesn't go to their heads.
  
  



• The House is Watching Some Pistol on Saturday. That's right, we're taking this hobo show on the road and riding the rails to Evanston, IL to check out Northwestern and Nevada in an epic grudgematch of kind of purple teams. Between the Nevada Pistol, the... um, brainy Northwestern co-eds with great personalities, and the fresh lake air, it should be a good way to start off week two.

That's all I've got for now. Catch you on the flipside.

The House Rock Built is Deep Undercover

Well, ladies, it's football season, so it's time for The House Rock Built to emerge from his watery lair at the bottom of the swamp and entertain you kiddos for another fantastic football season. My first assignment? A dangerous secret mission deep in the heart of enemy territory. That's right, clones, The House Rock built is currently holed up in a hotel in none other than Ann Arbor, Michigan. But don't worry, readers, I made sure I was up to date on my immunizations before I stepped foot in this lovely hamlet (she is a whore, you know...)

A routine business trip put your enterprising editor right in the belly of the beast, and so far the subterfuge is going well. So far I've hoisted some pints with mgoblog at the local speak-easy, gave a loving vaffangulo gesture to the Big House as I drove by, impregnated several Wolverine co-eds, and, most importantly, I'm currently in the process of getting my smoking room at the Holiday Inn Express condemned by plowing through three packs of Parliament lights while blogging. I'm doing this for all of you. You're very welcome.

Anyway, so far I've survived. Any requests for specific defacement of the Michigan campus can be made in the comments. I can't promise I'll get to all of them (I can only muster up so many deuces, dammit. I'm not a machine), but I'll give it my best shot.

Posted With Just a Teensy Bit of Comment

All this excitement and teeth-gnashing and what-have-you about Jim Harbaugh's recent world bridge-burning tour with Michigan has inspired me to come out of hibernation and make a mockery of the whole subject. Oh, and maybe profiteer a little bit on the thankless labors of teenagers (hereinafter referred to as "pulling a Michigan"). You see, I think that Jim Harbaugh should put his money where his mouth is and try to impart some change on the system at his alma mater. My first suggestion would be to make a large donation to the University of Michigan earmarked for creating a new study center for athletes to help them get that ever-elusive Michigan diploma. Well, if the only thing keeping him from doing that is the inability to come up with a clever name for the new facility, well worry no more, Jimmy. The House Rock Built's got you covered.

So go on ahead and show your support for the Jim Harbaugh School for Kids Who Can't Read Good (And Want to Do Other Things Good, Too).

Fightinamish out.

The Bulletin Board

It's Hate Week. If you're not hating, you're not trying. A-B-H. A - always, B - be, H - hatin'. Hate hate hate hate hate.

In the event that you do need a little more help, this post will be the official House Rock Built bulletin board. I'm going to collect up all the trash talking I've found and consolidate it here. I figure reading over this with the Pete Carroll flash intro music playing in the background should be enough to make any rational person run out and kick a puppy in the face. Hang onto that feeling. It will make you strong.

The House Rock Built's Official Bulletin Board How does it feel, Irish fans, to be pwned by a poodle? Like this, apparently. Woof. - The Irish Trojan (Editor's Note: If you don't understand what "pwned" is, go ask the kid working at starbucks with the bad complexion and horrible haircut.) You guys are kidding right? Have you even tried starring at your own goddamn coach for five minutes?! What a fat ass. Makes me want to barf. [S]eriously, is there are a less attractive coach in D-I sports than Charlie Weis? I'm being dead serious. - anonymous If [Charlie Weis] has balls he can't see them without a mirror, that's for sure. He's already doing 60 minutes interviews taking credit for being the best coach in college football and the guy has done nothing in 2 seasons, but lead Notre Dame to their most embarrassing home-loss in 50 years, beat a bunch of below .500 teams a top program SHOULD beat, and kept it close in a loss to Pete Carroll. Go Irish!!!... right to your 14th straight year without a bowl win. - sandyunderpants [Charlie Weis] may cry a few emphathetic tears for Brady Quinn’s familiy when, in his anger over Notre Dame’s blowout loss, and in order to feed his insatiable hunger, he eats Brady Quinn on the flight home. - The Irish Trojan (Editor's Note: Brave soul "Joe" goes where most of us wouldn't dare in his retort in comment #19. The gloves come off in hate week) Charlie "fat-fuck" Weis is the most disgusting arrogant coach ever. After administering a beatdown this year, we are going to show Jimmy "emu" Clausen what D-I football is all about next year. - anonymous LMFAO!! Notre Dame is so overated. Who do they play? They have not beat a top 25 team in how long?...Thank You!! - anonymous (Editor's note: OMG ROFL, twice in September this yr which was totally 4evar ago! LMA!O!) Bunch of mid-west jack-asses [sic], the grass won't be 3 ft high this year! you bringing rudy with you? i don't know who whines the loudest... espn of [sic] the irish we all know the whole big ten whine [sic]. but not like the irish. when you can knock off a michigan or a ohio st. who the fuck is army/navy/air force? you would never see a team with that kind of callibur [sic] on our field. - anonymous English professor (I presume) I can't wait for our linebackers to remove Brady QUinn's head from his body. If I played for Notre Dame, I would feel like a piece of shit knowing that the only reason they go to bowl games is because of their fan base and not their talent on the field. I can't wait till Saturday when we get a good look at USC's depth chart, as the Trojans should gut the Irish early letting some new blue chippers into the game. Stafon Johnson, a 5-star recruit is looking for garbage time, and I expect him to get it in the second half when we are up by more than 2 td's. - anonymous Oh and speaking of gutsy, I'm trying to remember who won the game last year at your house. Or just what bowls your team has won in the last 13 years. Or what exactly the score was between you and Ohio State last year. Anyway, I'm a little worried for you guys, worried that your coach may die from a heart attack from eating too many cheeseburgers during Thanksgiving. - Jeff in LA WEY WHEN YOU GUYS CAN PUT A WEST VIRGINIA ,VIRGINIA TECH, A TEXAS, LETS SAY A LSU,A OKLAHOMA AND STOP PUTTING THOSE CHEESE BURGERS ON THE FIELD......May be real team will take you serious! - anonymous I wouldn't say I hate the Irish. They are a novelty. Like the old sexual predator in "Family Guy." Potentially viscious in theory but mostly impotent and laughable. ND is like the little dog with three legs that everyone seems to root for but laughs uncontrollably when they get too excited and fall on their face. - Jam

That's installment number one. If you see any other good smack, give me a heads-up in the comments. Trojan fans? You're more than welcome to add as much of your own smack talk in the comments. Hey, you've earned the right to be a bit braggadocious. Just remember to make sure it's littered with spelling errors and broken syntax... wait, who am I kidding? Of course you'll remember to do that.

Blogjammin': The Boi From Troy

While it somewhat flies in the face of the spirit of Hate Week, I did keep up with my tradition of reaching out and chatting with an enemy blogger about the upcoming throwdown. Decked out in leather helmets and protective cups, the Boi From Troy and I had a civil chat about the game and used the opportunity to answer some burning questions about our rivals.

And then to fulfill our obligations as enemy fans during Hate Week, we both dressed up like pirates and had a heated slap fight.

I do it for the fans.

Anyway, you can read the other half here (link pending), and here's my interview with BFT:

• Okay, take a step back and pretend that Pete Carroll is the coach of another team... perhaps even your rival team. Would you hate his guts? I mean, have you seen the man's website?
  
  

  If Carroll were able to do for UCLA, Cal or anyone else, I would hate him as much as Irish fans hate Ty Willingham or Bob Davie.  I also hate USC's websites, which, I promise, will have some kind of flash animation before the season is done touting the unprecedented, history-making 2006 football team.  That said, as a person, I really like Pete Carroll.  His optimism is so uplifting, I think I'd like him to run for Governor when Arnold is termed out.

  
  
  
  Think big, man... President Pete Carroll.
  
  
• This clearly isn't the same juggernaut Trojan team from the previous few years, and yet here they are with a Pac 10 title in hand and two wins away from a national championship game. How has this team managed to sustain their level of success despite undergoing a major face lift?
  
  

  Whereas Notre Dame front-loaded its schedule, this Trojan team has a back-loaded schedule.  That has allowed them to improve over the course of the season to the point that they've been able to beat teams that would have grossly out-matched them in September. The other major factor is the defense.  Because the offense has been more methodical in years past, the defense has a chance to rest, make adjustments and game-plan--thus holding two of the most productive offenses in the nation--Oregon and Cal--to ten points or less.

  
  
  
• Which part of this Trojan team scares you the most? That is to say, what weakness or vulnerability keeps you up at night worrying?
  
  

  Two things scare me, especially as this Trojan team matches up against Notre Dame.  Despite improvements to the Special Teams, our punt coverage leaves alot to be desired.  Had they not given up a return for a touchdown against Oregon State, we would not be talking about a Michigan-Ohio State rematch right now.  Likewise, the offense's inability to finish drives this year is frustrating.  While Booty's numbers are comparable to Leinart and Palmer--if not better--we're just not punching the ball in for points.  Against a team like Notre Dame, that could spell trouble. 

  
  
  
  This man is very, very disappointed in you.
  
  
• How do you see this game going down? A "last one to score wins" shootout like last year? A surprisingly low-scoring grindout? As a follow-up, which type of game do you think would give Southern Cal the best shot at winning?
  
  

  I'd like to say that I think it will play out alot like last week's Cal game--a defensive battle opened up late by the Trojans--but I know better.  I think Notre Dame will put Quinn in the shotgun to avoid him getting pressured and making mistakes like he did against Michigan.  USC will try to take Samardzija out like they did with Cal's DeSean Jackson, by having Cushing jam him at the line--especially now that Carlson is out of the equation--which will lead to lots of screen passes to Darius Walker...which will allow Notre Dame to get some long drives, but not necessarily score touchdowns in the red zone.
  
  Meanwhile, on the offensive side of the ball, USC is going to try to run C.J. Gable for a hundred yards or more--regardless of whether they succeed--which means the game will come down to John David Booty's ability to find Steve Smith or Dwayne Jarrett on third or fourth down.
  
  I also expect Charlie Weis to do an onside kick after halftime.

  
  
  
• Do you think that this game should be a play-in for the BCS title game? More to the point, if Notre Dame should somehow find a way to win this game, who would you put in the second spot against OSU?
  
  

  Sorry, but that loss against Michigan gives the Wolverines an advantage head-to-head.  However, I'd put Florida or Arkansas in the title game before wanting to see a rematch.  Imagine what would happen if Michigan were to win the BCS game--the winner of a Notre Dame-SEC Champion Sugar Bowl could lay a fair claim to a national title as well.

  
  
  
  Stupid us, not losing to an unranked team.
  
  
• You have lots of connections in the USC athletic department, so do you know who killed Nicole and Ron?
  
  

  By "connections" you must mean "cancelled checks"...  While I know the BoiFromTroy is read at Heritage Hall, I do not think the Boi is all too welcome.  As far as Ron and Nicole are concerned, I have to plead the fifth...just like O.J.

Solid answers from BFT. You may now resume your regularly-scheduled hate.