TheRoundUp 11/30: In which Jeff Jacobs destroys Randy Edsall

“I don’t think the players have ever been a problem. It’s us finally finding, it took us this long, what we do best and finding what we can win with at this level. We’re starting to get into a groove of what we think we can do.”

Seriously DeLeone? Pretty sure all of us here figured out by game 4 or 5 at the latest that McCummings should have been used more.

DeLeone has got to go, otherwise he will be Coach P’s undoing yet again.

feel good about Edsall’s failures this year!

Sure, Randy is a terrible person for building the football program, but we must remember that he tried to do the right thing at the end by crippling that program just in time for Calbertus Magnus to solidify his rightful place as King of All Connecticut.

Don’t let his haircut fool you, Randy Edsall is an incompetent buffoon. The problem is that people see his haircut, which is executed with military precision, and assume that he must conduct every facet of his life in a similar fashion. This is a classic mistake. I believed in The Randy Edsall Haircut of Invincibility once, too. Then I saw the truth.

Randy Edsall is a man who coaches with the predictability of a mid-afternoon bowel movement. A man that has grown fat off the sweet, succulent teet milk of Mother Luck. But anybody with a gambling addition or a penchant for unprotected sex with hookers knows you can only scrape by on luck for so long. Sooner or later, that fickle teet is going to run dry. Randy sucked on Mother Luck’s juicy nips all the way to the Fiesta Bowl and, on the eve of the biggest game of his career, he sought her lactating embrace for one last drink. But, on that night, her mammaries were cold, barren, and unforgiving. And the Randy we saw that evening was more Edsel than Edsall: an ugly, incorrigible failure. When the world looked to Randy for a bit of lightning in a bottle, he gave us a Ziplock baggy with a fart in it; all his feeble coaching mind could muster without the nourishment of Mother Luck.

And when the dust had settled, my children, and the Sooners had their trophy, Randy was left with nothing but his immaculate haircut and the knowledge that he had reached his pinnacle. His team boarded one plane, while Randy boarded another, and that was all she wrote. 48 hours later, with gypsy-like execution, Edsall was Maryland bound, ready to pull the wool over a new set of eyes. Ready to trick a new nation of loyal fans to believe in the haircut.