The Break-Up

It’s not you Florida Gators, it’s me. I just need so much more out of our relationship. I feel like I have grown and you, well, you go for the 2-point conversion when you don’t need to. Football math tells us you don’t need to do that. Fuck. What were you thinking?

If I can’t trust you, I’m sure as hell not going to love you. But I will survive.

What’s that? Yeah, I know you beat Utah. I saw the whole thing. You got a lucky interception at the goal line pretty much at the end of the game, to win it. That’s when I thought I loved you. I even told my whole family about our season-long rollover bet and how we were going to make SO much money together.

But I was wrong. You were just showing off. Those who can – do – those who can’t go on to lose to Kentucky as 6-point favorites – AT HOME. Then, fuck, you barely win versus South Florida, at home, as million-point favorites. Then…this debacle in Knoxville.

You know, I could probably forgive you and hold my head high in honor, instead of shame, if you practiced some good game management. But, holy shit, you went for a 2-point conversion when you were down by 11. Even my house cats know you kick the extra point there – every damn time.

So, you get the ball back on a beautifully successful onside kick. Yet, because you booted the 2-point conversion and can’t play for a field goal to tie, you gotta score a touchdown. You don’t. You covered and cashed my +10.5 bet. But it was a hollow cover.

I feel so used and dirty.

It’s for the best, really. You will find someone else to believe your bullshit. But we are done.

Peace Out.