The letter was typed on the same Florida State letterhead with which he'd wooed a few thousand recruits, and it was waiting in my old office months after I'd cleared out.

"I sure hate it that you won't be with us this year," Bobby Bowden wrote.

You can almost hear him say it. That's because he writes just like he talks, which is also how you'd imagine him talking if you'd never met him before — all that ol' boy Southern speak that's hard to spell even if you make a living transcribing the things Bobby Bowden says. I'd covered his program for a couple years in what then seemed liked the rough days, when everyone was hoping the problem was his son and not the old man himself. When I left the job, I wrote him a note thanking him for his access and wishing him well, to which he responded in kind.

"You have been so good and I have really enjoyed you," the letter went on. "The only thing, with you there, I couldn't address the writers as men. I always had to remember there was one lady present and that was you."

Looking at the letter now, I like to scan down to his signature and then up to my name, which is the best part. He spelled it wrong. "Emily Bulger." Classic Bobby Bowden.

The fact that he couldn't get even his best players' names right is one of those weird tics that jaded sportswriters always found so charming. But it also gets at the tension at the heart of his last decade in Tallahassee: Confusing Drew Weatherford for Chris Weinke isn't so daggum cute when you're not winning — at least, not to the fans.

To the hacks, though, Bowden's retirement represents less the end of a sad family drama and more the passing of a once-prevalent species in major college football — the big-time coach with an actual personality. He was a genuine American coot, and there aren't many of them left today. Along about his fifth decade in the game, coaches' salaries ballooned, and now, on sidelines across America, you find nothing but wax statue after wax statue: the all-business, no-access coach who won't tell you what's on his mind or where he goes to church, and who doesn't even get why anyone would want to know in the first place.

Urban Meyer would never be caught in an unchoreographed moment. Bobby Bowden let us so close we could track the liver spots his straw-brimmed hat couldn't keep at bay. He even let us watch him (and record him) fumbling for the right memories. And then he'd crack a joke, at his own expense, and it was so damn quotable that whichever backup receiver he'd misidentified wouldn't make it into the paper the next day.

Bowden built a national powerhouse at what was once a women's college, and he knew the next biggest thing he brought to town was himself, and so he let people have their piece of him, ask him personal questions and snap his picture wherever he was. He made them feel that of course he remembered that time they first met at the 1984 Pensacola booster club meeting (an implausibility fans gladly pretended to believe), and he tricked half the fans he talked to into thinking their names actually were "Buddy" and "Girl."

In 2006, heading into what would be his worst season in three decades, the College Football Hall of Fame decided to toast Bowden's career before it was over. They bent the rules and brought him in early, a gamble that gave him the Big Moment he didn't get this week. The day the news broke, during ACC spring meetings in Amelia Island, he walked down the hotel corridor toward a small band of stalking media. He was so happy to see even his Tallahassee hacks that he dove right over the gulf between subject and scribe. He planted one on my cheek. That was Bowden.

"I knew you had to retire, you had to be out of coaching, or you had to be dead," he joked of the honor. We scribbled frantically because we knew a punchline was coming. "I didn't volunteer for death, I'm not planning on retiring, so I didn't know anything like this would occur."

Other times, he talked openly to reporters about the endgame he was trying to avoid. You remember what happened to Bear Bryant, right? The guy retired, then died 28 days later.

Bowden seemed to worry that this would be his fate, too, but that's probably not a great reason, in the state of Florida, to keep coaching a football team. This is apparently what all the important people in Tallahassee finally decided in a mess of their own making: They always said the coach could stay as long as he wanted. They built him a bronze statue and a stained-glass window. But then they named a replacement-in-waiting who clearly wouldn't wait all that long, and they finally gave the spotlight to the guy who must have been keeping track of all the things Bowden was forgetting.

The new guy, of course, isn't half as colorful. The thing about being a hack is that that's really all that matters. You can happily go on writing about crummy seasons just so long as someone says something funny, interesting — anything — about them. Yeah, Bowden probably should have ducked out when he lost his edge on the really big-picture stuff — game scores, key plays, whole seasons — but he was a figurehead by the end, anyway, and a daggum good one. You never cared if he didn't remember a name or a face because he always made a point to give so much of himself. That was something Bobby Bowden never forgot.

Emily Badger is a former Orlando Sentinel reporter and a freelance writer in the Washington D.C. area. Online, she lives here: www.emilybadger.com.

Photo via Sports Illustrated

Blount only got nine carries last night—probably because he missed 10 games this season after punching Boise State's Byron Hout on opening night—but his 12-yard TD was a huge moment in the Ducks comeback win over Oregon State, in his final home game. Now he's literally being lauded with roses. That's quite a year.

I think maybe that Blount has it figured out. Why destroy your body for 12 grueling games, when you can get yourself suspended, show up to rescue your team at the last possible moment, still get to play in the Rose Bowl, and save your knee ligaments for the NFL Combine. He's crazy, all right. Crazy like a duck.

Let's watch that punch again, huh? Just for old time's sake....

Honorable Mention: Adrian Peterson, for proving that his BMW can travel 109 m.p.h. Yes, he was in a 55-m.p.h. zone, but his car his made out of that Nike snake skin stuff, so he was protected.

The player, Cory Kipp, sought out the Lawrence Journal-World to refute Mangino's claims that he has never mistreated his players during his time in Lawrence. "I'm doing this," he tells the paper, "because I've got proof how horrible a coach he is." His account:

Kipp began the crawl and, after moving several yards, felt a burning sensation in his hands. On multiple occasions, Kipp said, he stopped to complain that the turf was burning his hands - according to a University of Arkansas report, artificial playing surfaces have been documented at up to 199 degrees in temperature - but was ordered by Mangino, who was walking alongside the crawling player, to keep going.

By the time Kipp had finished, the skin near the heel of his hand had been completely seared, and photos provided to the Journal-World depict blistering and a sizable area of missing skin.

As a result of the injury, Kipp said, he was forced to undergo extensive treatment on his hand by then-head football trainer Carol Jarosky throughout the next three weeks, and although he said at least two members of the coaching staff were aware of the injury, he was told to practice through it.

"It wasn't like because my hand was burned, I took a couple days off," Kipp said. "They made me practice."

Kipp took photos of his hand after the incident, but he decided not to report anything lest he lose playing time or even his scholarship. Mangino will now no doubt lump in Kipp with the 1 percent of KU players who don't "appreciate" his style of coaching, which style includes: taunting a kid for having an alcoholic father; threatening to send a guy back to St. Louis, where he could get shot with his "homies"; threatening to send another guy back to Oakland, where he could spend the rest of his life "drinking out of a brown paper bag"; poking and grabbing players and occasionally making them crawl across 200 degree turf for the grievous crime of missing a weigh-in. He's basically Don Rickles meets Junction Boys meets Ponderosa. It sounds like he'll be fired very soon.

Ex-player accuses Mangino of mistreatment [KUsports.com]
News Flash: Mangino's fate awaits [Yahoo!]

From The Salt Lake Tribune :

The Salt Lake Tribune first reported Monday that Whittingham suffered a cut lip during an altercation on the field after the game. The photos, by a photographer with US Presswire, show an unidentified BYU fan latching on to Whittingham as he is being restrained by other fans. A second photo shows Whittingham and her daughter backpedaling from the altercation.

BYU police reported two different complaints were filed involving on-field scuffles in or near the area Jamie Whittingham and her daughter were following the game.

Idiot fan violence is a noble Holy War tradition, dating at least as far back as 1896, when police were called in to break up a brawl. It was one reason BYU dropped its football program from 1898 until 1922. "A burning cauldron of rivalry loathing," is how the Tribune's Gordon Monson puts it. Still, this latest outbreak has left Monson so shaken that he's throwing around Star Wars dialogue:

It's more likely, sadly, that it will go the other way, and Hall's words about hate will generate more hate. When I sat directly in front of him and heard them come out of his mouth, it reminded me of the quote spoken by that great philosopher Yoda.

"Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."

So, in the most homogeneous state in the Union, one sect of impossibly blond people has managed to find a reason to irrationally hate another sect of impossibly blond people. Awesome. Somewhere, Joseph Smith is stuffing his head in his hat again.

MWC reprimands Hall; photos show altercation [Salt Lake Tribune]
Monson: There's too much hate in BYU-Utah rivalry [Salt Lake Tribune]

* * * * *

Thanks for your continued support of Deadspin. Barry Petchesky's here tonight.

As you may have heard, after a 12-game preseason the Gators' first actual football contest takes place this Saturday against Alabama. Winner gets the BCS Championship Game. So obviously Dunlap's timing is impeccable. And now his coach has an interesting decision to make. Will Urban Meyer suspend his team's leading sack maker before the biggest the game of the season? Thanks to the Brandon Spikes incident—where Meyer was lambasted for his one half suspension—he might not have a choice. Or will the importance of this game allow him to make up some sort of excuse about "waiting for the legal process to sort things out" and keep Dunlap active, thereby not punishing him at all?

What if he does suspended Dunlap? Will it matter? Would an Alabama victory (if they can even still get one) be cheapened? Something tells me Tide fans wouldn't be broken up about it. Either way, we're going to learn a little something about the Florida coach this week, although perhaps the fact that no one is totally sure which way he'll go tells us something already.

Also, falling asleep at a traffic light? That shows a real commitment to drunk driving. That's the kind of stuff that makes NFL scouts sit up and take notice.

Dunlap's Arrest Puts Spotlight on Florida [New York Times]
Gators' star defensive end charged with DUI [Journal Constitution]
Dunlap's arrest inexplicable [ESPN]

I, for one, will be sad to see him go, because Weis was a living monument to the hubris and folly of his school and its supporters. (For example, this book was actually written and is still available for sale via their ESPN.com clubhouse page.) Just seven games into his first season as head coach, Notre Dame handed Weis a nonsensical ten-year contract extension lashing themselves to his rather prodigious anchor until 2015—despite the fact that the coach he replaced had an identical record at the same point the year before (and also started 8-0 in his first season) and was fired for it. Five years later, he finished with a lower winning percentage than that previous coach and his team has become a punch line. It will now reportedly cost the school around $18 million just to run him out of town, while they naively cling to the belief that the Fighting Irish name alone will be enough to persuade A-list college coaches to ditch their actual successful programs to come run this terrible one. Good luck with that.

However, I will mostly miss him because his teams were lousy and I enjoyed watching them lose.

Source: Notre Dame fires head football coach Charlie Weis [NYDN]

The senior quarterback threw two touchdown passes in his final home game, including the game-winner in overtime, and when asked at a post-game press conference if that redeemed his six-turnover debacle from 2008, Hall did not mince words....

A little bit, yeah. I don't like Utah. In fact, I hate them. I hate everything about them. I hate their program, I hate their fans, I hate everything. So it felt really good to send those guys home.

They didn't deserve it. It was our turn, and our turn to win. We deserved it. We played as hard as we could tonight. And it felt really good, again, to send them home, to get them out of here, and so it is a game I will always remember."

And then he continued, "I think the whole university, their fans and their organization is classless. They threw beer on my family and stuff last year, and they did a whole bunch of nasty things, and I don't respect them, and they deserved to lose."

Wow. That's like real hate. So that's probably the end of that story, right? Nope. Believe it or not, Utah fans were a little ticked off:

"Max Hall is a jerk. He says he hates Utah. I hate him. I hate BYU. That school is filled with hypocrites." — Steve

"Hall is a whiny b——, just like all Cougars and their fans." — no name

"What a baby Max is. Why is it that BYU players are always the ones saying stupid things. I hate that place. Talk about classless." — Tom.

"MORGAN SCALLEY MADE SIMILAR COMMENTS IN 2004 WITHOUT CRITICISM. YOU NEED TO CALL IT BOTH WAYS." — Mark.

Just to let you know how serious Ute fans are taking this ... they've started anti-Max Facebook groups. No foolin'. So on Sunday, Hall decided to ease the tension a little bit and offered an apology for taking a dump on half his state.

"As a result of what happened to my family last year, this rivalry became personal, and in the heat of the moment yesterday, I made comments toward the entire university that were really directed specifically at those fans in [Rice-Eccles Stadium]. It was not intended to be directed at the entire organization and all of their fans, and I apologize that it came out that way."

First of all, what did he say there about not intending to insult the entire organization?

"I think the whole university and their fans and the organization is classless."

Ok, just checking. But Hall says he was really upset because during the 2008 game at Utah, his family was physically and verbally assaulted, including getting beer dumped on them by unruly fans. So that's why the "rivalry became personal." If ask me, it isn't a rivalry until you take it personally. That's why they're called rivals.

A year ago, Hall got embarrassed on the field and his family was humiliated in the stands. So this time around, he rips the heart out of his opponent and redeems himself. Shouldn't he get to talk all the shit he wants? Like the University of Utah is so kick-ass that no one is allowed to hate it? Ok, maybe when the hate rises to the level of beer throwing and insulting mothers, you've gone a bit too far, but Max Hall should be commended for getting his payback on the field. That's the best kind of revenge there is.

So don't listen to those Mormons, buddy. Hold on to your rage and let it feed your soul. It's healthy for you!

Monson: Mad Max's thunder a blunder [Salt Lake Tribune]
Monson: There's too much hate in BYU-Utah rivalry [Salt Lake Tribune]
Mad Max Will Regret Post Game Blunder [Bleacher Report]
Hall's pain a reflection of self-betrayal [Deseret News]
BYU Cougar quarterback Max Hall apologizes for ripping Utah Utes, fans after victory [ESPN]
[Photo via]

•Al Groh wins best press conference of the day, reciting the entirety of the Dale Wimbrow poem, "The Guy In The Glass:"

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you've cheated the guy in the glass."

Groh then continued with his own words: "When I visited the guy in the glass, I saw that he's a guy of commitment, of integrity, of dependability and accountability. He's loyal. His spirit is indomitable. And he is caring and loving. I'm sure I will always call the guy in the glass a friend."

•Steve Kragthorpe was cut yesterday, as Louisville's AD admitted the relationship hadn't worked "from day one."

•J.D. Brookhart is out at Akron, taking it like a man:

It's a big-boy business," he said. "I know it. It is what it is. It's not what I wanted, but these things happen."

•Mark Snyder resigns as Marshall's coach, possibly giving us the wonderful "coach's first game is a bowl" situation.

•Charlie Weis is somehow still technically Notre Dame coach, despite reports that he's cleaned out his office.

•Ralph Friedgen should know his fate at Maryland sometime this week. Which is more important: giving Fridge a 10th season, or UM's first 10-loss season?

•Bobby Bowden even manages to get his name in the headlines, saying he's not even sure if he wants to return to FSU next season. This is what we call an idle threat, as well all know the moment he steps down, he will collapse into a pile of dust and it will emerge that he's been dead for five years.

Let's set the scene. The week started off with a bang, as the Bruin Statue got a cardinal and gold paint job. Fearing retribution, Tommy Trojan received a round-the-clock guard.

The game was uneventful as usual, until the Trojans kneeled with 54 seconds left to run out the clock. That's when Neuheisel inexplicably called a time out. Pete Caroll could have been the bigger man, and simply kneeled again. But no one has ever accused Pete Carroll of having the moral high ground. The next play:

The Trojans celebrated taunted vigorously, and the Bruins sideline cleared. Who says LA needs the NFL? They've already got fans wholly devoted to immature players and asshole coaches.

Sportsmanship Takes A Timeout In USC-UCLA Game [LA Times]

Did you know that every year for the last 11 seasons, the Bowl Championship Series Championship Game Championship has featured the No. 1 and No. 2 teams in country (as determined by the BCS.) Every year! Let's see your idiotic playoff system do that! You can't compete with that kind of consistency. And you can learn more amazing facts like this at this totally proactive website that was helpfully created by "the BCS group".

"If you think the Bowl Championship Series (BCS) is controversial, wait until you realize how much more contentious a playoff would be."

You know who said that? Bill Fucking Hancock. And he did it with this really cool spiral font that swoops in all awesome-like. Still not on board? Here's some more knowledge, bozo.

A bracket-style playoff wouldn't end the debate, it would only fuel it. Advocates of a hypothetical playoff can't agree on how to resolve key playoff questions: who, what, where and when.
For example,

Who would participate?
How many automatic qualifiers?
What would be the criteria to qualify?
What would be the criteria for seedings?
Where would the games be played?
When would the games be played?
If you could resolve all that would everyone be satisfied? NO!!

Shit. The website is correct. We can NEVER answer all those questions, so we should probably just give up and accept the amazingness that is the BCS. I mean, the previous system of scattered, regionally aligned bowls that never even attempted to create a national champion didn't work, so obviously a playoff system is not the way to go.

I don't even understand why you were complaining to begin with. "Every conference has an opportunity to earn annual automatic qualification into the BCS." (Even though most don't have one now and I can't really imagine how that would ever happen.) Plus, "at the beginning of every season, every team has an opportunity to earn a spot in a BCS Game, including the National Championship Game" ... provided they begin the season ranked in the Top 10 of both polls and every team ranked above them (most of whom they will never get to play head-to-head) loses at least once. Maybe twice.

Oh, and don't forget "bracket creep." Have you ever tried to get that shit out of your hair? Forget about it.

Convinced, yet? Man, you are dumb.

Playoff Problem [Playoff Problem]

The school and the campus police are currently playing dumb, refusing to release any details about the fight and the athletic department similarly won't say why the players were given the boot. But witness told the campus newspaper that one of the guys involved in the Sunday night brawl had dreadlocks, so that pretty much cinches it. Also, Winston is a violent idiot so everyone knows he had to be involved.

As you may recall, Winston (pictured in this bittersweet moment) went to jail this summer after beating up an MSU hockey player—the player missed the whole season as a result—and was reinstated to the football team the day he was released. It's really heartwarming to see a young man make the most of his second chance. Mark Dantonio's sparkling judgment remains unblemished.

Winston, Jenrette removed from team; police, MSU silent [The State News]