That’s Texas State, the sworn hated, loathed and despised arch nemesis of the Red Wolves. Out, vile jelly! Hold me back, Red Wolves fans! Don’t allow my burning passions to become criminal at the mere thought of San Marcos and their lazy rivers and ceremonial keg tappings. A pox upon you, bros and Bobcats!
Category Archive: Arkansas State Athletics
This question vexes me with a vexing more vexing than “Why did we go with Bonner on the last drive when Hatcher obviously had the hot hand?” We’re going with the Two QB until it’s etched onto our tombstone. (Here Lies A-State Fan Rules, Two QB.) No, it’s our stubborn determination to out-cute the opposing defense that murders us again, and again and again. When the solution stares us in the face, we close our eyes, click our heels, and hope for a miracle.
Troy’s offense ranks 36th nationally – unnervingly tied with Coastal Carolina. More unsettling, the Trojan offense racks up 300 passing yards a contest, which doesn’t bode well for a defense giving up nearly 300 passing yards every game.
The game against Appalachian State was more of the same, with ESPN commentators lauding the growth of the Mountaineers program, even comparing Appalachian State to “Alabama” at one point. Arkansas State, who once only aspired to be “the Boise State of the South,” was now barely better than South Alabama – a team that beat the Red Wolves last season.
Country-strong ESPN sideline reporter Marty Smith concluded his pregame report with “Expect a slobber-KNOCKER tonight!” The second quarter […]
This paragraph was going to be a charmingly clever introduction to the meaty football feast that is the […]
Ah, the Mountaineers! They of the one FCS win, and unconvincing win over Charlotte, an offensively anemic loss to Marshall and a nearly month long sabbatical from football (thanks, COVID-19!). How to define these guys?
But there was simply too much Jonathan Adams. Too much Dahu Green, Too much Brandon Bowling and juuuuust enough Lincoln Pare to overcome all the kitchen sinks the Panthers tossed on the gridiron.
Who could guess the intentions of Mohajir? His mind was a fortune cookie. He spoke the language of pro wrestling. His mitochondria were actually microscopic monster trucks. For all we knew, he was about to lead the marching band in 20 minutes of jazzercise.
Beating the Bears was unfinished business. Beating the Panthers, well, that’s true atonement.
Howl Raiser 