Derek Dooley: My New Fulmer?

Unless you’ve been ESPN celibate for the past two weeks, you know the drama that has surrounded the University of Tennessee football program recently. Just in case you have been living in a cave lately (Osama, this is for you), here’s a quick summary: Lane Kiffin is a slimy little weasel who just high tailed his cocky self back out to the University of Southern California after a 14-month stint with my favorite team. Three rage-filled days later, UT has picked a new head football coach, Derek Dooley from Louisiana Tech.

I’ll admit that I didn’t know much (well, anything) about him before his press conference announcement the other day. However, after doing a little bit of background research on our new coach, I’ve complied a list of five reasons I can get behind him. I also may or may not have fallen slightly in love with him during the process. Allison Dooley, watch your back.

1) He's a Southern Gentleman
Every Southern Belle needs a good ‘ole boy to sweep her off her feet, right? From the minute he opened his mouth at the press conference and I heard that country drawl pour out like molasses, I knew I was going to like this guy. He started talking about how he grew up in the SEC, and I was sold.

2) He’s a lawyer!
As an undergrad student with the goal of law school in the all too near future, this won definite bonus points with me.

3) His wife’s a doctor
A lawyer turned football coach and a doctor, married? Power couple, I love it.

4) His father is coaching legend at the University of Georgia
Growing up detesting Tennessee’s rival UGA, this is fantastic. Derek Dooley, may you outshine your father in every aspect of your career with the Vols. I’m going to visit a football fanatic friend at UGA in a couple of weeks, and I plan on continually rubbing this in his face throughout my entire weekend in Athens.

5) His sons’ names
Dooley has three children, a daughter named Julianna, and two sons: Peyton and John Taylor. We’ll start with the less obvious thrill. During his press conference Dooley referenced Tennessee’s Athletic Director calling his son “JT," and joked with reporters that he’d be in trouble with his wife, because “to his Mama he’s John Taylor;" classic Southern charm. But come on, Peyton!? As in Tennessee alumni and the single-reason-I-adore-the-Colts quarterback legend Peyton Manning!? I think this is fate.

Obviously I’m in the honeymoon phase of my relationship with Derek Dooley, and we’ll have to wait until football season to really test him out. But for right now, I’m happy to say he’ll be getting a second date.

Yeah I'd Like To Tap That...Great Knowledge of The Game

“I’m sure the next hot blonde is going to walk through the door and take my job, and I’m going to be too old.” –Erin Andrews, ESPN

Recent years have brought with them what some sports fans may argue is the greatest improvement to the game since HD television: hot female sports reporters. Whether we’re talking about Erin Andrews, Jenn Brown, or Wendi Nix, these ladies have fans tuning in for more than just the game.

Typically when the boys upstairs throw it over to the girls on the field, they’ll bring you an update on an injured player, an interview with a coach, or some sort of player background story. Generally, the ladies aren’t analyzing the game. They’re put on the field to get the inside scoop straight from a player, coach, or staff member. This makes sense, of course. Who would you rather talk to, a young hot blonde or a 40-year-old fat guy? The answer’s obvious.

But is it fair to objectify these women to the point of making them sex symbols first, and reporters second? When thinking about this topic I ran a Google search for “female sideline reporters." The first site that comes up? www.sidelinehotties.com. An entire website dedicated to fan pictures of the hottest sports reporters on television. Another Google search for “Erin Andrews” came up with dozens of sites advertising that they have a copy of a peeping tom video showing her naked in a hotel room. Disgusting.

There are clearly negative aspects to the increasing trend of hiring pretty women to work the field during a game. However, I can honestly say that I enjoy watching games more because of them. They’re a refreshing face in comparison to the burly men we’re used to looking at. If they’re okay with the hoots and hollers from the fans, then I am too. After all, I have a feeling these girls know why they were hired…and it wasn’t for their great set of brains.

Everybody Scores

There’s an episode of “Sex and the City” where Samantha (the blonde vixen played by Kim Cattrall) is dating a New York Knicks super fan, who only “scores” when they do. Samantha becomes as obsessed with the Knicks as he is, knowing her chances of getting any action from her man depend on their victory.

A particular scene shows Samantha sitting at her boyfriend’s apartment, celebrating a Knicks win in the final game of their season. As the buzzer sounds, she leans over to him for a passionate kiss, only to be brushed away.

“Not now babe,” he says. “The Mets are playing Chicago, and now that basketball’s over I can give ‘em my full attention…man have they been playing lousy ball this year!”

In comes the narrator: “The idea of lasting through another sexless season was more than Samantha could take. And so, she forfeited the game.”

Today’s sports media is no stranger to the super fans of American athletics. Whether it’s topless frat boys painted with one letter per body, or Cubs fans bawling after a loss. Fans do more than invest their time and money - they invest significant emotion.

I can tell you this from personal experience. The first time I ever heard the F-bomb was from my father, jumping out of his old blue recliner and screaming it at the television after a Tennessee football fumble. This was the first of thousands of football-induced F-bombs to come.

But, is screaming yourself hoarse and enduring heartbreak during a losing season really worth it? It’s no hyperbole to say that a single fan’s emotional investment will have literally no effect on the outcome of a game. One fan in one household screaming at a television isn’t going to complete a pass or make a basket.

So why do we do it? Why do we invest so much of ourselves in whether our favorite team wins or loses? It’s simple: because when we sit down to watch our favorite sport, it’s a chunk of time out of the day where the outcome is completely dependent on someone else. There’s no pressure on the fans, no real consequence from a game lost, because that’s all it really is – a game.

So continue on, crazed fanatics. Get out your foam fingers and make your witty posters. Pay ridiculous amounts of money to watch your favorite team score in HD on your new flat screen, because really, the only person winning (hopefully) is yourself.

Liar liar pants on fire...who cares?

I’m not feeling nearly as creative and insightful tonight. Maybe it’s because I’m plagued with a winter cold…or maybe it’s because I’ve had an awful past 24 hours in sports. Louisville lost to Villanova, Kentucky won (again), and Lane Kiffin is leaving Tennessee for U$C. The gods of ESPN are not smiling kindly on me as of late.

But, inspiration struck during “Sports Center”, when clips of Mark McGwire’s steroids admission were played over and over…and over. After about the fifth time of hearing him say that steroids are “the most regrettable thing I’ve ever done” while his eyes welled up and his bottom lip trembled, I started to believe him. I mean, the guy’s crying for God’s sake! This got me thinking about athletes and their “transgressions”.

McGwire’s obvious roommate in the doghouse right now is Tiger Woods. In my opinion, the best way for Tiger to get back into my good graces is to give a large, large amount of money to Elin and wish her happy trails. Remember that rock Kobe had to pony up? We’re going to need about 30 of those.

But is a little sex scandal or juicing up going to really ruin anyone’s career here? No way. We look at athletes and scandals as one and the same, and brush them off with a “boys will be boys” shoo of the hand. As one sports writer wrote his headline on Monday: "McGwire Admits to Steroid Use; America Shrugs and Goes Back to Their Lunch". We're no longer surprised by the constant indiscretions of professional athletes.They can cheat and they can lie, but at the end of the day we’re still looking to them for someone to rally behind and cheer for – at the end of the day they’re still our superheroes. While these multi-millionaire all-stars might be role models for boys when they’re in the game, they’re becoming role models for men off the court.

Stop it Dick Vitale, you're making me cry.

I consider myself to be somewhat of a guy’s girl. I’d rather watch “The Hangover” than “The Notebook”, I’d cut my fingers off before I’d ever TyPe LiKE THiS, and fruity girl drinks? Forget about it and get me a beer – or better yet, a shot of bourbon.

That being said, I caught my estrogen taking over while watching the Texas v. Alabama game last week. I’m an SEC girl, born and raised, so I started off the game rooting for the Roll Tide. Then Colt McCoy got “hurt” (a whole other story, in my opinion), and little baby freshman Garrett Gilbert enters the game looking like a deer in headlights. He’s visibly nervous, and I start to feel bad for the kid. He’s just a baby! He’s so scared! Oh that poor boy, let him complete just one pass. Be nice! At this point, I’ve switched alliances to Texas. Then, the guys covering the game start talking about how Greg McElroy (Alabama’s QB) hasn’t lost a game since middle school. My heartstrings are tugged in the other direction, and I start thinking about how sad it would be for his first loss in years to be in the National Championship game…and before I know it, I’m torn.

This whole series of events got me reflecting on myself as a sports fan. Do I watch the games for the games, or for the stories? Am I listening to the game analysis for player stats, or to hear the sappy tale told during free throws of a kid growing up in the projects relying on basketball to keep him from joining some gang and getting killed on the street? I’m leaning towards the latter.

I saw “The Blind Side” and am suddenly a Ravens fan, I didn’t know what the Tour de France was until Lance Armstrong lost a testicle, and every single time an unranked team goes up against a number one seed, I’m cheering for the underdog. I’ve turned watching sporting events into my own personal episode of “The Real Word”, keeping my ears tuned into sportscasters, just waiting for some way I can make a personal attachment to the athletes/characters. But is this because I’m a chick, or am I just a big softie? Are sports reporters trying to pull in female fans by playing up the emotional tales of athletes? I called my mother for a second opinion.

“I’ve never read a statistic in the sports section, I always just skim through until I find the stories about the players. Sometimes they’re just so cute!”

And there you have it.