So yesterday was a snoozefest compared to the final day of Media Days. The Wynfrey Lobby was crawling with Crimson-clad zombies (Spencer Hall's wording, not mine) eager for a passing glimpse of their slick-haired, pennyloafered savior. Writers were giddy with anticipation for the one-two punch of absurdity from Les Miles and Houston Nutt, and both were, at times, happy to oblige. The Twitters were also full of chatter, addressing Nutt's response to questions about MSU's aggressive marketing, and his indication that Barry Brunetti might be leading the QB race. Click the jump for more details.

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Good Lord, 8am is early. Day 2 of Media Days, the bustle and confusion from yesterday's internet crisis has subsided. I'm plugged in the wall, with an internet cable, like a plebian. Mark Richt is speaking as I type this, talking about Boise State, Pro Combat jersies, the Bible...

Yesterday, Dan Mullen was a lot more boring, less antagonistic than I expected. He took his pot shots at Ole Miss through conspicuous omission: when prodded by an LSU writer about the "This is Our State" campaign, Mullen conceded that USM might be annoyed by the implication. Apparently, a 14 year-old girl told Dan that we'd be even more hurt if he just ignored us altogether.

In the "reporters asking stupid questions" department, one guy asked Mullen what his expectations were when he started at State, and asked him what his timetable was for winning the West, and eventually the SEC. Apparently, just trying to win every game you play isn't enough, you have to have a schedule. Dan mumbled his way through that one and moved on.

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Hi Cuppers (is that a thing? Do we say that?), I'm writing this live from the Wynfrey Hotel in Hoover, AL. SBNation has been kind enough to get us a pass into SEC Media Days, and Ghost and JUCO have been desperate enough to hand the pass to me. I apologize for the light coverage of today's events; the internets are pretty scarce here, what with hundreds of bloggeurs trying to cram onto two or three wireless networks. Hopefully, I'll be able to get some photos, interviews, and whatnot with some of the players and coaches. If you have any specific requests, suggestions, irrational demands, etc., hit me up in the comments and I'll see what I can do. After the jump, I'll talk about how things have gone so far...

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So, after modest expectations spiraling out of control into talk of NYD Bowls and Dark Horse potential... here we are, with modest expectations. If that's not Ole Miss, then I don't know what is. Apologies, once again, for the belated report (though I make no such apologies for last week's lack of a report. What did you want me to say?); I made it down to New Orleans, ate seafood, drank 14 gallons of beer, took my sweet time getting back home, and slept in this morning; I'm a Good Rebel.

Like all Good Rebels, I was more than happy to see us win this weekend. And like all Good Rebels, I'm also a bit perplexed...

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One of the sobering realities of post-college life is that your friends, once concentrated within reasonable geographic boundaries, tend to disperse themselves all over the damned place, forcing you to once again establish new ties in a new hometown, making friends by testing your awkward and/or inappropriate jokes out on crowds of relative strangers. The Red Cup crew certainly suffered this fate for a while, but for now at least, three of us live within one city's limits. To tide us over during the Rebels' non-sports season, Ivory Tower, JUCO, and I have decided to take advantage of our close proximity to write about culinary delights.

This week (last week, I know), JUCO made meatloaf, Mrs. JUCO made corn casserole, and I made bloody marys.

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One of the sobering realities of post-college life is that your friends, once concentrated within reasonable geographic boundaries, tend to disperse themselves all over the damned place, forcing you to once again establish new ties in a new hometown, making friends by testing your awkward and/or inappropriate jokes out on crowds of relative strangers. The Red Cup crew certainly suffered this fate for a while, but for now at least, three of us live within one city's limits. To tide us over during the Rebels' non-sports season (and let's face it, it's pretty much already started), JUCO, Ivory, and yours truly have decided to take advantage of our close proximity to write about culinary delights.

After one full rotation, JUCO again provides our entree, Ivory supplies the side dish, and I've brought the potent potables. Enjoy, and let us know what you think.

Scallops, Corn and Okra Jambalaya, and an Old Fashioned.

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One of the sobering realities of post-college life is that your friends, once concentrated within reasonable geographic boundaries, tend to disperse themselves all over the damned place, forcing you to once again establish new ties in a new hometown, making friends by testing your awkward and/or inappropriate jokes out on crowds of relative strangers. The Red Cup crew certainly suffered this fate for a while, but for now at least, three of us live within one city's limits. To tide us over during the Rebels' non-sports season (and let's face it, it's pretty much already started), JUCO, Ivory, and yours truly have decided to take advantage of our close proximity to write about our second-favorite common interest (aside from Live Action Role Playing (or as we call it, LARPing), of course): food. And no... it's totally NOT gay.

Each week, the three of us will try to meet to cook an entree, an appetizer or dessert, and a potent potable to match our culinary selection. We'll provide recipes, pictures, and reviews for your summer perusal. Today, JUCO supplied our entree, Ivory made an appetizer, and I brought the libations. Enjoy, and let us know what you think...

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When thinking about next season, it's pretty painful to think of it in terms of what we're losing on offense. Namely, Dexter McCluster and Shay Hodge. At halfback, it seems like we're returning a competent stable of rushers, but really, if Brandon Bolden, Cordera Eason, and Enrique Davis did their jobs last season, then we don't have to play two true freshmen (Tim Simon and Rodney Scott) and move Dex to halfback. We have options at RB, but we're still looking for answers. The fullback position is also wide open next year after graduating Andy Hartman. The 2010 signing class features two running backs who could easily push for playing time as soon as they set foot on campus. More after the jump.

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How do you use this thing again? Seriously, I apologize for my extended leave; maybe the Egg Bowl caused a short circuit in the part of my brain that cares about Ole Miss sports. Alternately, lately I haven't had access to both alcohol and internet simultaneously. At the end of 2007, we did a list of the most "Ole Miss" moments of the year. There were ten of them, and they were all funny, humiliating, and depressing. In 2008, we had a banner year. It was awesome, and I felt no need to harp on the negative. 2009 was a mixed bag, but not the kind of mixed bag where you'd find some assorted fruit, maybe some hard candies, then pretzel dip and cheese straws. No, it was the kind of mixed bag where you'd find some cocoa dusted truffles, some gourmet bagel chips, and then maybe a rat carcass. So, to accompany Ghost's Five Greatest Moments of 2009, here are the really sucky ones.

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Well, this isn't going to be long-winded. I don't feel like making excuses, criticizing coaches or players, or belittling MSU fans. I don't feel like analyzing the game, because there wasn't much to analyze. I don't feel like it, because once I got the initial frustration out of my system, I wasn't crushed by this loss. I was... annoyed.

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I'm a well-trained Ole Miss fan. Before I embark on what would certainly be a rollicking series of jokes (about how that could mean anything from learning to be tastefully racist, to perfecting the art of being drunk while wearing a sport coat, to being able to hit a moving target with an empty whiskey bottle from 30 yards away), I'll spare the funnybusiness. Being a well-trained Ole Miss fan means that you see the disastrous future before it happens. Like penny loafer-clad Miss Cleo wannabees, our generation of Ole Miss fans are quick to stare into their crystal balls of abject mediocrity, and predict the wildly, unfathomably terrible future.  

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So, we totally fucked Tennessee up. I feel like I can say that this week without fear of a 100 comment bitch-fest by Arkansas fans about how... well, it's hard to understand them through the bad grammar, and the tears on the keyboard and whatnot, but they were bitching about something. Anyways, UT fans know they have a good team, they know they got whipped by a better-prepared squad, and they know that they could easily return the favor next year. They appeared to be exceptionally good sports. But for now...

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PAY ATTENTION TO US!!!! Is it just me, or would the complete lack of coverage for today's game have been different if Arkansas wins? Sorry, the anti-Ole Miss conspiracy is gaining some credibility, at least in my head. I want the rest of the nation to join us in making fun of silly Arkansas fans today. Instead, I got to see Air Force/Utah and Indiana/Northwestern on Sportscenter, as well as coverage of a baseball game that was postponed due to rain (enthralling!!!), but didn't see Ole Miss until we were getting scored on by Arkansas in the Top Ten plays of the night. I wonder if Mark May's glasses contain a mind control chip that forces him to act like a smug, metrosexual, football-ignorant piece of dog shit, or if he's just always that way. More post-game thoughts after the jump.

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This is difficult. Being an Ole Miss fan is difficult. We all got our hopes up; even those predicting modest success this year let themselves dream about Atlanta. When I write these reports, win or lose, I'm frequently analytical, sometimes jubilant or angry, but mainly just anticipating the next game, talking about who's improved and what we need to try to do better. This week, I have a hard time doing that. I'm sure we all did something to calm ourselves down after the game this weekend, and while I'll get back to football in a bit, here's what I did.

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First, some sorta bad-ish news: ESPN's College Gameday is heading to Baton Rouge next week.  There went our chance to host it, as far as I see it.  Instead of going to a place which they've never been and is renowned for its football atmosphere to feature a game which has the potential to be a close, SEC-West deciding matchup, ESPN has opted to watch Tim Tebow snip the tips of of Phillipino penises kick the dog shit out of LSU.  I wanna say "boo ESPN," but it's really our fault for dropping a game to South Carolina.  

Ok, now the post-game:

Instead of a game which is likely to be closeWell, it's a relief to beat Vanderbilt without last-second heroics, career-ending injuries, or really, any drama at all. The week before a huge game, that's exactly what you want. There are a lot of positives to take away from this game, and since I half expected us to drop this game, I'll focus on those for the majority of this report. Ground breaking concession after the jump...

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I'll be frank: I'm not in the mood to really break this down. There are a lot of reasons we lost. Here's the biggest, and the only one that really mattered in the end:

Bradley Sowell is the worst starting player in major college football. That's it. John Jerry is only better because of his size and strength. His technique, aggression, stamina, and quickness were all extremely disappointing for an SEC player. How, as a coach, can your offense plan around having two such terrible players protecting the quarterback? I was aghast. Was Snead bad? Oh yes. Did the receivers, at times, seem to mail it in? Sure. But the failure in this game starts back in 2004, with our consistent inability to recruit offensive lineman worth their weight in dog shit. As far as I can see, we don't have any. Some of them may go on to have NFL careers, and at this point, I can't even be happy for them. As a unit, they're completely terrible while playing for the only team that matters to me.

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I'll go ahead and tell you upfront: this one's going to be pretty tame. And why not? I get another dose of Rebel football in four days, one that I'm pretty excited and nervous about. So why get myself going too early writing a post-game report about SELA? There were plenty of things to be excited about, nervous about, and just plain confused about. Hit the jump, unless you're a Markeith Summers fan...

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Good riddance, Memphis. We beat you by 31, and we weren't happy about it, except for the fact that we won't be playing you again for several years. And haters from Arkansas, Memphis, MSU, and wherever else: we didn't play like a top 10 team today. We know that. But when the polls come out this week, guess what? We'll be in the top 10. You won't. I'm convinced that we have a team that can play at a top 10, even top 5 level, but that obviously didn't happen this week. So what went wrong? What went right? Click that jump button, playa...

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Now that I have your attention, please make sure you submit your RCR pool picks ASAP.  Games start tonight. Click the Fun Office Pools widget and get 'em in or miss out like you did on all of the cool stuff in middle school.

So I had every opportunity to go to the Florida game. And I didn't. A couple of my friends have ragged me about it endlessly, but I'm sticking to my guns. Sometimes, a man has to have some principles. I had reached the end of my rope with this Ole Miss team. I wasn't seeing the effort, the realization of potential that would have inspired me to drive 12 hours with Ivory Tower and his lame country music to watch my Rebels get waxed by the best team in the country. So I didn't go. I stayed behind and engaged in an athletic endeavor of my own. I played Ultimate Frisbee. I wrapped my broken left hand into a sweaty, medical tape club (Patrick Willis style) and vented my football frustrations by owning the shit out of some motherfuckers in flatball. It felt good; being trapped in the stands while you helplessly watch your team lose is pretty agonizing. I'm not a terrific athlete by any means, but it feels good for the actions and decisions to be your own, to feel the burn of a full sprint in your legs as you pull past another player and burn him on your way to the endzone. I was at peace...

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Media Darlings: You know them when you see them. Some hot, upstart team gets an undue amount of air time, with various talking heads raving about this and that, pretending that, all of a sudden, Generic State University is somehow relevant or interesting. I remember how ESPN's guys gushed about MSU's cowbells back in the late 1990's. Not so much anymore. Maybe this year, they'll make a huge fuss about the Grove, The Walk of Champions, Chucky Mullins (all of which are cooler than cowbells, btw), though they could just as easily continue the party line of "Racism was invented in Oxford, Mississippi." But I digress...

Last year, Texas Tech had taken the media darling phenomenon to new heights. And why not? The only coach in America that Houston Nutt might describe as "a little off-kilter..." an awesome wideout who likes to say stupid things in front of cameras... A wide-open offense and a paraplegic defense, generating TV-friendly shootouts week after week... With the Red Raiders rolling to a 10-0 record, the media had no choice but to rain down the love on the Red Raiders. As a result, throwing tortillas on the field is cool. The bell ringer (no, I'm not linking the video) is cool...

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Holy God, was it hot today... Probably 1,000 people came to sit on the hill overlooking the practice fields today. After a long warm-up, the first full-contact scrimmage kicked off. The offense had a pretty good day, and though the defense held their own, most of the highlight-worthy moments were created by the offense.

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The weather is way too nice for August in Mississippi. Unfortunately, the 75 degree, shady afternoon brought out every douchebag from miles around. I found myself moving around not for a better vantage point, but to escape the yammerings of each successive idiot whose proximity I entered. I almost left. Also irritating today was the relative lack of offense. A buddy of mine who works for the team is really excited about the defense, and I guess I'd rather have the defense winning right now, but the offense needs to find some answers at tackle and some depth at receiver. More after the jump.

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So the team came out in full shells today. I swear, I about foamed at the mouth when I heard the first good crack of the shoulder pads. And as you might expect in the first day of pads, the defense was on fire, talking trash, and generally taking out their frustrations on the white-clad offenders. I watched the offensive line intensely today, but as a 5’10, 175 pounder, my (limited) football experience occurred outside of the hashes, so I have a hard time telling exactly what’s going on in the trenches. That said, here are the notes for the day.

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So I caught some heat for yesterday's practice report being too negative... Get ready, Rivals and Spirit posters. I'm not about to tell you that everything's alright when it isn't. If you want to know who's playing well and what's going right, you need to occasionally hear who isn't, and what's going wrong, so you know that we're not just pumping sunshine. I think the team will be good. I don't think that the team is ready to strap up and play Alabama tomorrow. My apologies. Moving on...

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Holy Hell, football is here.  Hopefully you'll recall our (wildly popular) practice reports from last fall.  These will follow similar suit.  Read, provide input, yadda yadda.

So Rh0d3$+@r and I attended the first practice with illicit beverages and some honest insight. Today, I mainly focused on the skill players. It's hard to tell how good the linemen are until the pads go on. More on that later.

Raymond Cotton -Good size and release. The buzz has been that he might get looks to play in some Kent Austin formations this year. He'll have to show more accuracy and zip before that happens. Quick, high-armed release, but often high and behind the target. Didn't get any gauge on his speed.

Clayton Moore - THE LONE RANGER... If I met this guy in a dark alley, he might run away from me...

Jevan Snead- good, but maybe not as good as you'd expect from a Heisman candidate. We didn't see much promise from the qb's at this point last year, if I remember. He'll be fine. Jevan operated exceptionally well under duress last year. He likes it when shit gets real. Today wasn't all that real. He did step aside when his turn was over at skeletons and talk to several of his players. Not coaching, just keeping communication lines open.

Stanley - already noted for his good deep throws, Stanley had some good completions to shorter routes today, as well as the ability to shorten his tall frame and tuck it for a run. He's quicker than I'd imagined, but again, it's hard to tell how effective a runner is until the pads go on...

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Well I do. One of the biggest crimes committed by the Internet was the killing-off of sports radio shows like this one. It was awesome. And the best segment, Ole Miss coverage be damned, was Max Howell's "What's fer Supper?" Well, I was so proud of my dinner last night, that I'm writing about it. It's still July, so I'll post whatever non-sports garbage I please, thank you very much. So press play on the video, and remember how appetizing a cathead biscuit could sound when Max was drawling about it over the radio... Recipe after the break.

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A National Championship. Students, alumni, professors, staff... even the sidewalk fans can all celebrate this monumental accomplishment:

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So after the better part of a week since Part I (and a self-imposed deadline that I completely violated), here comes Part II of RCR’s coverage of the conference, this time with a focus on the conference’s content, the development of sports entertainment media, and the implications thereof. Some of these ideas had already occurred to me, and were affirmed by the panelists, and some were new to me, and changed the way I thought about certain issues. Essentially, this is my way of giving credit where credit is due to the sources of these thoughts. If I could put together all the names with all the ideas, I certainly would. Enough with the intro: here’s Part II.

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As indicated by my 4:00 AM post Sunday morning, Ghost and I had an interesting experience this weekend that we should write at length about. Some (most) of you may just be here for the actual sports-related stuff, in which case, I wouldn't blame you for skipping this article. There should be some good laughs, as will be the case whenever you let two 23 year-olds loose with a bunch of other sports nerds and an open bar. Though this was intended originally as a piece on the development of sports writing and entertainment in the Internet age, that will have to wait for later, as this story quickly grew more novelistic in nature as it went along. Enjoy.

So if you live in DC or New York, and haven't tried Bolt Bus: do that shit. Apparently there are several bus services to and from certain cities that offer cheap advance booking and a variety of amenities. We booked our tickets a few weeks in advance for about 20 bucks a pop, and this particular bus line featured leather seats, wireless intertubes, and electrical outlets. Something worth checking out for sure...

After the four hour ride, most of which I spent doing that unpleasant, half-conscious version of the funky chicken, where your head bobs up and down in violent jolts of alternating seconds of sleep and alertness, we arrived in NYC. If you haven't been (this was just my second brief trip there), you have to go to understand the darkness of the place that settles in and bears down on you. The subway is, as Ghost described it, post-apocalyptic. The people you see in passing seem desperate and depressed. It is at once an unrivaled spectacle and an intangible horror. In short, I'll stick with my small southern town for now, thank you.

We arrived at the Columbia University frat house where we had bummed couches, and settled in, making our way up to the roof to take in the milky midnight sky. Stars aren't visible through the glow of the city lights. I noticed the gaunt shadow of a woman milling about in her kitchen in an adjacent apartment building, not 30 feet from where we were standing. As I relaxed, and she disappeared and reappeared from sight, I glanced back up at the hazy purple firmament above, only to have Ghost draw my attention back to the window. You see, the woman, now accompanied by a male companion, was getting frisky. Very frisky. We watched some of the action in comic shock through translucent blinds, then tried our best to mind our own business, and talk of politics for which we cared not. She was a solid 6, for those wondering.

Not sure how to react to this incident, we walked back downstairs, ignored by our hosts, who instead attended to a very important bong in the middle of their 4th-floor bedroom. Pizza sounded like a capital idea, so out we went, jogging across bustling streets until we found a chain place, Famiglia's; scorned by natives, but still maybe the best pie I've had. It's something in the water, I think. Larry's pizza may never taste the same. Diving back into the night, we returned home, plotted our morning subway route, and retired, the fluorescent halo of an outdoor light fixture throwing long shadows across the ancient furniture of the frat house parlor.

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