This weekend, my beloved alma mater (Arkansas) is playing my friend BooMama's beloved alma mater (Mississippi State). And we both really, really love our teams. And we discussed privately, wouldn't it be fun to try and stir up some really big rivalry thing between our two blogs and trash talk at each other?
Except I'm sitting here at my computer thinking, trash talk? Hmmmm....trash talk? This is why I could never be a truly serious sports fanatic, because my version of trash talk is something like:
Hey there, BooMama, get ready for the Hawgs to slaughter the Dawgs. But really, it's nothing personal, because I know your school is lovely and I'm sure the boys on your team have worked so hard, and I'd hate for your fans to be disappointed...
See? I can't do it. There's not a competitive bone in my body (at least, not where sports are concerned. Trivial Pursuit is another story entirely.). I want my team to win, of course, but I just really don't want the Other Guy to get his feelings hurt.
This annoys my Hubs, who would happily eat a big ol' bowl of Mississippi State for breakfast if he could. Especially this game, which is a big one, because (he tells me) if we win this one and then beat Florida and LSU and then if Notre Dame and Rutgers all lose and the rotation of the earth can shift two inches to the left...the Razorbacks have a chance at the National Championship.
And so, stepping out of my comfort zone in the spirit of hoping for Good Things for my team, I say to BooMama: WE WILL CLEAN YOUR PLATE. WE WILL TURN YOU INSIDE OUT. WE WILL RUN YOU SO HARD WE'LL HAVE TO CLEAN UP WITH A MOP WHEN WE'RE DONE. I mean, if that's okay with you, because I know you're such a nice school...
