When a guy sees a girl on the street and he says to his buddy, "I would [have sex] with her," it's fallaciously operating on the premise that the guy has been given a choice in the matter.
For this exercise, I too am operating under the fallacious pretense that I have been given my choice in Big Ten football teams. To do so, I must remove myself from my pathetic white carcass and put myself into the shoes of somebody much more insanely talented than I ever was on the gridiron. (Shoutout to the 8th grade Baker Bulldogs, the best two-win football team Marion County has ever seen.
I was reading an article about Urban Meyer being the Big Ten coach other players would most like to play for. That makes sense, because Urban Meyer is a certified bad ass. Honestly, I don't know how he man walks with testicles as big as his, but somehow the man makes due.
So I got to thinking, if I was 18 years-old (a recurring fantasy of mine), and I had my pick of Big Ten schools, who are the coaches (besides Urban Meyers, obvs) who I would lend my sword to?
That pondering lead to these very, very, very scientific results.
11. Brady Hoke. Maybe it's because I find Michigan to be rather putrid, but seriously, what's the allure of playing under Brady Hoke? That he won a couple games at Ball State? That he thinks calling Ohio State "Ohio" is some deeply infuriating psychological ploy?
When I look at Brady Hoke, I see somebody who would probably make a hell of an Arby's manager. I say manager, because I could never see Brady Hoke doing any actual manual labor.
If Brady Hoke told me to run a wind sprint, I would look at him with pure befuddlement. Where does a man who probably last saw his manhood in 1986 get off telling me to run a wind sprint? Buddy, in America, that's called hypocrisy.
Granted, college football is pretty much the literal definition of hypocrisy, but I'm definitely not going to be overlorded over by a MAC coach who came within 1 of 3 overthrown Braxton Miller-touchdown passes from losing to a team that ultimately went 6-7, especially considering he turned that game (again, against a 6-5 Ohio State) into his team's Super Bowl.
10. Bret Bielema. Bielema looks like the type of guy who would come into my home, and then when I'm fetching him a glass of Bailey's-spiked milk, he would try to seduce my mom in the living room.
"Hey guy," he'd probably say with my mother still at his beck and call, "It'd sure be swell if you came up to Wisconsin and toted the rock for us a bit." And then he'd lean back and marinate in his self-perceived aura of greatness.
There's an old saying of the Navajo tribe, "Never trust a man who met his wife at a blackjack table." It was one of the first lessons I learned in life, so I'm not sure how Bret Bielema would overcome this.
Sure, he had a good year with Russell Wilson, a player whom I love, but what has Wisconsin done besides be the B1G's uppity younger brother? Plus, what is there to do in Wisconsin besides drink alcohol and fight?
To seal the deal, the University of Wisconsin isn't even in Sheboygan, so I couldn't even be entertained by their police scanner when I'm sitting in my dorm room on a -32 degree Wisconsin night.
9. Bill O'Brien. I don't know much about Bill O'Brien, but I do know one thing: Tom Brady ain't walking through those doors.
8. Kirk Ferentz. The best thing that Kirk Ferentz has going for him is that he's not Brady Hoke, not covered in schnapps and slime like Bret Bielema, and his program isn't sanctioned to Hell like O'Brien's is.
That said, what else is there about the allure of Kirk Ferentz? Is it the "pro style" offense, that has produced such NFL legends as Ricky Stanzi? Is it the pile of dead and injured running backs he has accrued over the years?
Every year, there's some story about how some NFL football team is eyeing Kirk Ferentz, as if that wouldn't be an unmitigated disaster. Who buys this shit anymore? NEWSFLASH: Nobody is coming for a coach who's barely above .500 in the freaking Big Ten. NOBODY.
Not to mention, the guy looks like an asshole, and as we all know, looks are everything.
7. Pat Fitzgerald. Oh boy! Pat Fitzgerald! The really smart dude who coaches a team of fiesty brainiacs!
Look, Fitzy, I don't know how to tell you this... but the reason I cultivated my athletic talents as I have over the last 18 years of my life is that I wouldn't have to endure the rigors of academia past the 8th grade.
Chicago is cool, but does that make up for playing for a team that's perenially finishing mid-table in whatever-the-hell division they play in? Nah, not really.
Plus, Pat Fitzgerald looks like somebody who is screaming... about everything. Is there anything worse than people screaming at you for no reason? I hate that.
6.Kevin Wilson. I like Kevin Wilson, in the sense where pollsters call you and ask "Which political candidate would you rather have a beer with?" Out of everybody on this list so far, Kevin Wilson beats them.
Two things are going against him: One, he'd be asking me to move my life to Indiana. Two, he got hustled by a recruit named "Gunner Kiel". It's the latter really doesn't sit well for me.
Sure, "Gunner" was the #1 recruit in the nation last year, and sure, Wilson may get marks for pursuing recruits definitely out of his pay-scale, but really, why in the hell would you want a guy named "Gunner Kiel" to be associated with your program?
Gunner was a big get for Indiana, until he saw Indiana play football. He then committed to LSU, only before vanishing into thin air before re-appearing next to Brian Kelly in Bumfuck, Indiana. This was in order to be "closer to his mother" -- something you would expect out of a guy named "Gunnier Kiel".
5. Bo Pelini. I like Bo, because he might be the most successful raging alcoholic in collegiate football today. Just kidding, I don't know if Bo Pelini is a big drinker, but looking at pictures like this, he may be.
Generally, Bo Jackson is the only guy named "Bo" that I've ever cared to know, but Pelini has that fightin' tyke attitude that's somewhat endearing to me. It would be hilarious to me to watch his subconscious Little Man's Syndrome erupt from him when he's had one too many shots of Goldschlagger.
I don't like yellers, but Bo Pelini strikes me as an entertaining drunk. And in my vision of my collegiate career -- filled with strip clubs and under-the-table-payments -- a coach I could drink with is a super bonus, one that would make up having to live in Lincoln, Nebraska.
4. Mark Dantonio. I like Mark Dantonio, Jim Tressel's dark apprentice. Some don't like the cheap shots his defense has become somewhat notorious for, but I happen to love a good cheap shot. I feel I'd be able to up my ante without having to worry about some "coach" coming down on me for decapitating the likes of Denard Robinson.
Plus, it'd be the second most savorable annual ass-kicking of Michigan. Dantonio is all about business with zero pizzazz, and there's something to be said about that.
3. Tim Beckman. I love Tim Beckman, for whatever reason. Maybe because I liked his Toledo Rockets teams (read: Eric Page). Maybe I just happen to like the fact he was able to live in Toledo for more than a month. Maybe it's his balls swinging attitude about recruiting Penn State players.
I don't know, but I think Illinois will become a perennial pest under Tim Beckman. The man has proven that he's a winner wherever he's went.
2. Danny Hope. There isn't any reason for Danny Hope to be ranked thi.... OMG, LOOK AT DAT MUSTACHE. LOOK AT THAT MAGNIFICENT MUSTACHE. HOW DID IT SURVIVE THE MUSTACHE HOLOCAUST OF THE MID NINETIES? HE'S NOT EVEN A COP. WOW, THAT IS SPELLBINDING.
1. Jerry Kill. I know, I know, Minnesota is the Big Ten's football doormat, but god damnit, Jerry Kill is the man. How can you not be impressed with a man who routinely has seizures on the sideline and returns to work? That's the kind of go-getting attitude I'm looking for in a coach.
I've never met Jerry Kill, and I've never heard him speak in person, but the dude is clearly one of the bigger under-the-radar don dadas in the league. "No More Minnesota Nice" indeed. I've been quaking in my boots ever since I read that slogan. If I were an 18 year-old, being a rock in Minnesota's resurrection (they were good in the 1950's, I think I read that somewhere) would be pretty enticing.
Plus, as a guy who is huge on names, "Jerry Kill" is either 1) a Inglourious Basterds-esque Nazi-butcher from WW2 or 2) a successful football coach. Sign me up, coach.