Once I have taken you around the SEC and gone through the national games of interest, the only remaining college football contest requiring our attention is the lone outing each week which inspires in me such utter indifference that I cannot bring myself to offer a forecast, as making such a prognostication would obligate me to find out afterward which team prevailed in an affray I consider entirely inconsequential.
This game is known in these parts as the national game of disinterest, and, this week, that dubious honor goes to . . .
I hate to rip on the Jungaleers when I’m getting to be such a popular guy with their fans, so I will offer a word in defense of the Country Gentlemen: there is a tradition at work here . . . a bad one. Beginning in 1930, Clemson opened 28 consecutive campaigns by hosting the Blue Stockings at Fort Hill. The games routinely were such one-sided affairs that a Presbyterian coach became the first to dub Memorial Stadium "Death Valley."
Eventually, Orange and Purple legend Frank Howard recognized that there was little value to such virtual scrimmages, so he dropped the Blue Hose from the Tigers’ schedule. I am all for Clemson’s decision to resume playing historic rivals, but Presbyterian? That’s like England trying to revive its stature as an imperial power by waging a second war for the Falkland Islands.
If the Fort Hill Felines want to go back to playing traditional rivals early in the season, they might find Greg McGarity is receptive to their overtures, and not just for an exhibition game, either. Presbyterian, though? Please. When your winningest coach drops a team from the schedule because that opponent is too much of a pushover, there is nothing to be gained by returning that cupcake to the slate. I’m not picking it because it’s beneath Clemson to play it and beneath me to watch it.