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Monday Minutiae Is Living In A Fantasy World.

Like DavetheDawg, I'm certain that you all could use some programming that has absolutely nothing to do with our Athletic Director, either present or future. Frankly I've engaged with that topic about as much as I can stand.

Luckily others on this site have done an outstanding job of covering the saga completely and rationally and even a bit humorously. The college sports world in which I find myself is just not that appealing. So in today's post I'll be imagining an SEC in which I'd prefer to live. One in which our quarterbacks aren't out groping waitresses in Lowndes County, our baseball team wins more than it loses and our Athletic Director is safe at home enjoying milk and cookies in his den while watching I Dream of Jeannie reruns. Come join me in my world of pure imagination and you'll see:

Bobby Petrino and his Arkansas Razorbacks taking down the Alabama Crimson Tide on September 25. Shortly thereafter Petrino will announce that he's leaving to take over the winless USC Trojans from the recently fired Lane Kiffin. The Arkansas athletic department, in full panic mode, will then hire Kiffin to come back to the SEC. Nick Saban will deny that he is interested in the Dallas Cowboys job. While boarding a private plane for DFW International.

Stephen Garcia will throw 4 interceptions in Columbia against the University of Georgia on September 11. The last of them will actually land in the hands of defensive backs coach Scott Lakatos, the hobgoblin who haunts Garcia's nightmares. After a brief but heated argument over the validity of the pick, Penn Wagers will determine that if your athletic director can garner Fulmer Cup points, it's only fair that your position coaches can accrue game-changing turnovers.

On the way home from the game Wagers will stop at a Quick Trip in Hardeeville, buy a Coke and a couple of lottery scratchers, and summarily win $20,000. His ensuing wild celebration will land him in jail for disorderly conduct, with a cellmate named Skeeter who likes to cuddle.

Urban Meyer will try valiantly to maintain his composure during a fateful postgame press conference in Jacksonville. He'll be doing admirably for a guy whose team just lost 34-10 to an underdog Georgia Bulldog squad led by a smothering defense finally beginning to hit its stride. That's when Jeremy Fowler will ask him whether the outcome would have been different if they had a "real leader" on the field rather than a "real quarterback." I'm kind of going to miss Fowler. I may even go to his funeral.

A.J. Green will torch secondaries both near and far on the way to getting totally jobbed out of the Heisman Trophy. It will be all the motivation the young man from Summerville needs to stay one more year at the University of Georgia, where he will pair with experienced starting quarterback Aaron Murray to form a lethal pitch and catch combo in 2011.

Derek Dooley will turn out to be the second coming of Lane Kiffin. Like a Supreme Court Justice who surprises his appointing President by going 90 degrees off course at the first available opportunity, Dooley will turn out to be 200 pounds of loud-mouthed dickishness stuffed into a Brooks Brothers suit and slathered with hair gel. He'll crow about the smallest moral victory. He'll try to fire people he does not actually have managerial authority over. He'll commit recruiting violations at a speed somewhere between "Max Jean-Giles at an all-you-can-eat hot wing buffet" and "Nick Saban in need of 3 more scholarships to get under the 85 man limit."

Les Miles will finally lose his stuff. I'm not talking "have a nice day" lose it, but jumping on tables and wearing his tie around his head lose it. From the pre-BCS game press conference on through last year's late game clock meltdown, Miles has demonstrated that he has the potential to eventually go totally off the reservation. Maybe this is the year.

In keeping with today's theme, allow me to play you a tune. Something to make you all happy.


Let's hear your fantasies for the upcoming season of college football in the comments. Until later . . .


Go 'Dawgs!