Post from an Indiana fan on the post game thread at
www.reddit.com/r/cfb
I’m so tired of going into every Indiana-Minnesota game thread in the first three minutes and seeing the same god damn thing.
“Indiana is better than their record.”
“Minnesota is starting a freshman. Indiana could take advantage.”
“Indiana might win this.”
“Minnesota trying to lose more.”
“Lol blowing a lead is so Minnesota.”
I’m tired of seeing IU having more votes to win in the pregame thread.
Guess your pretty little head the ****eting ****er **** what. No they ****ing don’t. This team is bad. They don’t got it. This is IU. There is no happiness here. We will not pull it out. We will leave it in there and the next thing you know you’re 59 years old with nine kids from 7 different mothers, living in a single wide in Jeffersonville, locked in the bathroom because your semi retired hooker ex-wife and your “working as a stripper to put herself through college to be a teacher” wife who isn’t actually the mother of any of your kids from Martinsville is putting on a performance for prospective clients in the kitchen/living room/middle child’s bedroom/Ford Pinto garage, and you have a beer belly the size of a KEG OF MICHELOB ULTRA BECAUSE YOUR DAD TAUGHT YOU HOW TO BE FANCY LIKE IN COLUMBUS BUT NEVER TAUGHT YOU THE OL COITUS INTERRUPTUS.
And dont bring your chaos bull**** up in here. CHAOS ISNT LOSING TO OHIO ****ING STATE 23 STRAIGHT TIMES AND MICHIGAN 22 STRAIGHT TIMES. CHAOS ISNT LOSING TO A ****ING FOOTBALL TEAM THAT CHANTS ABOUT ROWING A GOD DAMN BOAT, WAVES AROUND AN OAR, AND GETS BLOWN ABOUT BY NEBRASKA. Chaos isn’t losing to a guy whose name sounds like whatever comes between a handjob and a blowjob. Losing to a rowing team playing football is your new god.
Ya wanna know what it’s like being an IU football fan? It’s like that episode of South Park when Cartman feeds Scott Tenorman his parents in chili except Scott Tenorman’s parents is your dignity, you are Scott Tenorman, and Cartman is that side of you that keeps coming back for more of the same thing to sadistically lick the tears of your face. And the chili is from Wendy’s so it’s three day old unsold hamburger patties in a paper bowl.
don’t tell me it’ll get better. don’t tell me how to feel my feelings. IT TOOK OUR HEAD COACH DYING OF BRAIN CANCER TO GET A WINNING SEASON. I don’t want to hear “but overtime in two weeks scary boooooooo!” From Michigan. I don’t want to hear about how we are young but promising. I don’t want to hear about how I just have to wait. Or you’ll be good next year. Or we are sp00ky it’ll eventually happen. Or we are a team on the rise. Or we have a bright future. Or we’re better than our record. Or we nearly beat Ohio state. Or we nearly beat penn state. We just have to wait. Just one more year. I DID MY WAITING. 147 YEARS OF IT! ON I-69 STATE ROAD 37!
One day I’ll die and the misery of being an IU fan will be over. I’ll be walking to take my place in heaven hopeful for the sweet release of not watching this team every ****ing Saturday. I’ll be prepared to pass through the pearly gates, full of joy and happiness with all my suffering over, there will be sweet calming sound of Martha the Cleaning Lady singing Indiana, Our Indiana.... when the doors slam shut in my face and from seemingly out of nowhere I’ll hear Don Fischer sigh and say, “Touchdown some ****ing true freshman from Minnesota who is only starting because everyone else on the team died in a tragic tobogganing accident.” The music stops, dread fills my stomach, everything turns bright blindingly white. Just then, a shining crimson light appears. Romeo Langford steps out of the light and touches my shoulder. I feel the warmth again, everything will be alright. I’ll be brought back to the promised land. He leans forward as if to tell me something wonderful and whispers almost inaudibly, “Ski u mah.” Before I can even ask what the **** that even means he kicks me right in the shin and shoves me off the edge to fall into a maroon and gold canoe, duct taped to an oar with my eyes stapled open.
P.J. Fleck appears. He tells me to row the boat or he will burn bits of our banners away. So I start to row. And the banners are safe. But then a small tv flickers on, and I hear it, the sound of this game starting over. So I stop rowing. I don’t want to watch this garbage again. It was painful the first time. The game goes away. But P.J. starts to light the banner. I can’t have that. So I start to row again. The game starts up. Right where I left off. So forever and ever I have to row this boat while P.J. Fleck moans “row the boat” seductively in my ear while I am forced to watch this ****ing game again and again and again.