I hope you shuddered as much reading that title as I did writing it.
Syracuse Love Day is, of course, the result of a bet gone horribly, horribly wrong. Porter, in his never-ending zeal to prove that UConn could beat up Syracuse's dad, put the very focus of this lovely blog up for grabs. And it has cost us dearly.
We are haters by nature generally, but there's something about Syracuse that simply compels us to froth at the mouth.
As UConn fans, our organs are programmed to process pure hatred of the color orange. Our minds know that deep down, the city of Syracuse ought to revert to its original name, Clownville*. There is nothing I like better than wiping the floor with Mr. Magoo and his band of too-girly-to-play-man-defense cronies.
Unfortunately, that didn't happen this year. And we are gentlemen of our word. Therefore, from this sentence on, and through 11:59 p.m. Wednesday night, we become...ugh...one with Syracuse fans.
(We ask that our regular pro-UConn commenters refrain from their regular nasty anti-Syracuse comments until midnight tonight. However, we do encourage writing very nice pro-Syracuse comments followed by sarcastic remarks such as "Oh yeah, it's totally opposite day".)
At various points today, indeed, we will offer our...ugh...solidarity in their upcoming battle with the nearly-equally terrible Georgetown Hoyas (7 p.m., ESPN), and we will look deep into our souls and examine what makes Syracuse and their fans non-Hitleresque.
Don't get used to it or anything.
*Look it up.