I'm ready.
I'm ready to watch Rome burn.
I'm ready to see it all come crashing down.
I don't care about ten wins and I don't care about bowls. Because we are not a good football team. We are not a well coached football team. We are not what we could really be. And I'm tired of everyone, especially the coaches, pretending we are.
I know I'm ready, because when we started mounting our comeback late in the game, even through my excitement there was a feeling growing in the pit of my stomach that had nothing to do with the bourbon.
It was dread. Dread that despite our many obvious shortcomings we would once again manage to hide them behind a facade of double digit wins. Dread that we'd live a lie for one more season.
I'm tired of our head coach presenting us a bill of goods and promising us the moon when we couldn't make it into the roof. I'm so goddamn tired of mediocrity and incompetence being rewarded. Whatever it takes to change that, I'm ready for it.
I'm ready to scream that the emperor is naked.