This series will run on MONDAYS this year. Again, consult the initial post if you'd like to help us out with this.

The Triumphant Tale OF The Super-Drunk Volunteer

When my group of friends were in college (roughly 2003-2007) at the University of Tennessee, we always represented ourselves well at tailgates. And by well, I mean we showcased drunken behavior that bordered on total disregard for any laws or code of ethics that exist in today's modern society.

However, for some reason our tailgates at away games were generally much more out of control and produced downright criminal behavior. One particular trip that stands out is a voyage we made down to UGA for the UT-Georgia game in 2006. There are several hilarious stories from this particular weekend, however the one that gets brought up most went something like this.

On this particular day, our friend [Redacted] was quite possibly the most inebriated human in Athens, GA. [Redacted] had downed what was being reported as "close to a handle of gin" by noon or so. Kick-off was around 8 p.m. that night. Long story short, everyone at the tailgate is fully aware of [Redacted]'s drunken state.

The kid has fallen down several times (as evident by his dirty...are those white jeans?) and is a total mess. Our friend [Redacted], in the navy hat decides to openly mock him in front of the entire tailgate for being so drunk.

[Redacted] defends himself by doing the only logical thing in his mind at that point; passionately kissing him on the mouth in front of nearly 100 close friends, attractive women, and total strangers.

The following pictures capture the moment incredibly well...[Redacted] is knocked down by a blow from [Redacted] and helped up to his feet. Meanwhile, [Redcacted] spits repetitively in disgust, then realizes that the forceful nature of a man on man kiss has destroyed his Ray Bans. He is then consoled by a good friend and announces to the tailgate that [Redacted] is "a lousy fucking kisser."

On a side note, [Redacted] later is taken to the hospital by a friend for alcohol poisoning. The friend is asked by the nurses in Athens if he "can get his friend to stop using so much loud profanity and being so uncooperative." [Redacted] is later seen holding a beer at a bar in a near catatonic state, hospital bracelet on wrist.

*names redacted because people don't want to get fired.

Yale Pissed On Harvard

Okay, so I am a homosexual liberal elitist who went to Harvard and we only had one respectable tailgate a year (before the Yale game) but this is still funny: our senior year, the game was at the Yale Bowl, which is a nice old-school stadium that's kind of dug into the ground in the middle of a huge field. so all the support facilities are in little wood buildings outside the actual stadium. A friend of mine is stumbling around blind drunk quite some time before the game even starts and heads into one of these wood shacks, thinking it's a bathroom, because it looks the same from the outside as all the bathrooms. It turns out it isn't a bathroom, but it's dark and no one's in there so he just closes the door and starts pissing. about ten seconds later the door on the far side of the building opens, throwing a beam of light across the room. He looks over and sees that: 1) he's in the Yale band's equipment shed, 2) the entire band is standing outside the far door looking at him, and 3) he's just absolutely soaking one of their sousaphones in a fire hose-level stream of urine.

Ah, The 80's: When Drunken Road Rage Was Cool

It was in 1980 (I think).

Patriots vs. Steelers - Monday Night Schaefer Stadium Foxoboro, MA.

Myself and 2 friends - left for the game at 4:00 PM.

In the car we had two cases of beer (Red White & Blue) , a bottle of Kahluha, a bottle of Vodka - steak tips, etc.

We had a grill, steak tips and other red meat but no utensils or plates - we did it up caveman style.

Our seats were in the first row in the end zone right behind the extra point net, one of my friends stood up on the railing holding onto the net during a Steeler field goal try. He was not aware that the net was dropped immediately after the ball hit the net and ended up on the field tangled up in the net flopping around like a flounder.

We leave the game and the person who was driving believes that a camper cut him off. The other person in the front seat is hanging out the window going down Route 1 throwing empty beer cans at the camper.

The camper pulls onto route 95 headed north and we follow, he gets off of the highway and pulls over - "We've got him now" slurs the driver.

Only problem, the driver of the camper had pulled into a nearby police station.

We were arrested and charged with being minors in possession of alcohol and arraigned the next morning.

I think that was the last Monday Night Game played in Foxoboro until the Krafts bought the team.

Please keep this anonymous.

Drake Has A Football Team, Apparently

Nothing says tailgating like a Division I-AA Non-Scholarship football in the middle of Des Moines, IA, right!?! Well, that's what I thought, too. To my surprise, several of my Drake University bretheren shared that sentiment in the Fall of 2001 as we became the first and only 15 people to ever participate in a tailgate for a Drake Football game.

We all went from zero-to-wasted in 4.3 seconds, got insaney-type stares from geriatrics and parents of Freshmen who, after the season, would quit the team so that they could concentrate full-time on drinking and breaking shit at the PIKE house, my brother's car left an anti-freeze piss stain on the Tennis Center parking lot (that's right, the football stadium doesn't even have its own parking lot) after the radiator on his '93 Grand Am was murdered from running the engine for three straight hours so that we could listen to 311 as loud as humanly possible, and I got thrown out of the game for stealing a trombone from the pep-band and running onto the field with it after a touchdown. None of the 512 in attendance cared.
D-U…YOU KNOW!!!

Mizzou Girls Know How To Pee In Public

Last year I was at my fraternity's tailgate before a game. Typical tailgate, lots of people in a confined area with free liquor everywhere. As I'm talking to one of my friends, this girl comes up to us and goes "Hey, guys. Watch this." She then pulls her pants down and proceeds to piss in the middle of the parking lot. Apparently the port-o-potty 50 yards away was too far. This was no short piddle either, she squatted there for quite awhile with a huge shit eating grin on her face as everyone (maybe 100 people) watched in shock and amusement. Once the deed was done she pulled her pants up, walked over to some hoosiers sitting on their tailgate and flashed them for a free beer. She provided me with a post game show too, showed up at my house (she was a friend of a friend apparently) flashed us all and announced she wanted to make out with me. This girl is in the smartest sorority on campus.

Don't know if this counts as a tailgate experience but the next week after the game I was at a friends house party when these two people who had never met each other fucked on the front porch in front of about 50 people. I didn't get a photo but a lot of other people did. I know the guy and I don't think he has drank since (although he should be proud, chick was smokin). Needless to say in back to back Saturdays I saw more public indecency than all the other 21 years of my life combined.

Attention tailgaters. It's a long season so please help us with this project and send along any and all shady stories, ridiculous videos, and photos from your tailgating experiences from this season. Or last season. Or 1952. Just make it funny/sad/gross/shocking. Email to tips@deadspin.com. Subject: FAILgate

Suggested discussion topics:

• Tennessee women
• John "Thunder" Thornton
• Lane Kiffin
• Layla Kiffin
• Death panels

Soon the team is gathered in metal folding chairs in front of a dry-erase board. Kickoff for the South Carolina Gamecocks, the eighth game of the season, is approaching, and the mood is somber. The Tennessee Volunteers are 3-5, 1-3 in the SEC, coming off a twenty-point home loss to bitter rival Alabama. Suddenly Vols senior linebacker Ellix Wilson breaks the pre-game silence by standing and screaming, "It's my fucking senior year and I'm tired of this shit! Tired of it, man."

Wilson is a 5'10 fifth-year senior from Memphis who is starting at middle linebacker for the Vols. He's also the younger brother of a member of the 1998 national championship team, wide receiver Cedrick Wilson.

Beside me, UT defensive end Robert Ayers sits alone in his locker, clad in full uniform, reading passages aloud from his white-covered Bible. Ellix Wilson's voice fades and silence holds for a few minutes. Then Vols sophomore Eric Berry stands.

"When I say Killas, y'all say Killas and then when I say Trained Assassins, y'all say Trained Assassins and then when I say, Want Some, y'all say, Gone Get Some."

Then Berry starts, "Killas!"

"Killas!" the team replies in unison.

"Trained assassins!" Berry chants.

"Trained assassins!"

"Want some," Berry leads.

"Gone get some!"

"Let's go bang a mother-fucker, man!" Berry screams in conclusion.

The cheer seems to get the team fired up. I'm kind of fired up. Of course I have no idea what it means. In fact, I've never felt whiter in my life. Later student manager Andrew Haag will confess, "I don't know what he was saying either but he's Eric Berry. He's so cool, he can do anything and it's cool."

Ellix Wilson stands up in the center of his teammates, and wearing his number 35 jersey in the road white uniform, he begins an emotional tirade that makes Bobby Knight seem monotone.

"Coach Clawson, get our mother fucking playmakers the ball," he begins, the whites of eyes large as he slaps himself in the chest with his hands. "I'm fuckin' sick of this shit. We got too many fuckin' good players at wide receiver and too many good running backs to do this shit! We all been talking about it. If they playing 10 yards off G. Jones why we running one yard passes? Let's get our playmakers the ball, coach, and fucking score!"

He picks up his chair and slams it down.

"This shit is worse than 5-6," he screams, spinning around and looking at all of his teammates. "This shit ain't Tennessee! We ain't lost but two damn players off last year's team!" He begins to cry. "I cry every night about losing. You may not see me cry, but I'm tired of fucking losing. This shit ain't Tennessee." He begins to cry harder now, tears streaming down his checks, slams his metal chair down again on the floor, and the echo carries across the silent locker room. Now he speaks once more, slower, choking on his tears. Each word declines in volume until the last, which is barely audible. "Man, I'm just tired of losing, this shit ain't cool."

No one touches Wilson. No one speaks to him. Coach Fulmer finally breaks the silence. "Everybody feels the same thing," he says, "Hell, it ain't Tennessee. Hell, it ain't us. I don't give a crap about what happens to me and my coaches. Well, I care, but I want y'all to have a good time, win. You've worked too hard not to. You're good, damn kids. We're going to win and we're going to play Tennessee football!"

Now Fulmer pivots and scans his team. He angrily defends himself against his critics. "These bastards get mad at me when I don't go for it on 4th and 1 from the 40. We've won a lot of games playing field position and I'm not gonna stop."

The players are nodding their heads.

"Everyone out but the players and coaches while we read the Maxims," Fulmer says.

The student managers, medical staff and I filter out of the locker room and stand in the South Carolina night. The buzz is all about Ellix's speech. "That's the best player speech, I've ever seen," says one manager. Another pipes up with a sarcastic aside, "Rico (McCoy) gave a pretty bad-ass speech at Florida…that turned out well." One of the women on the training staff says, "Ellix scared me."

With the fire coming out of the locker room I see no way this team can lose. I contemplate turning on my cell phone and telling everyone I know to bet their house on Tennessee's football team. Phil Fulmer may be able to lead this team to a bowl game yet.

The team bursts through the doors and the front line of the team stands just outside the locker room on a small concrete platform. From here they are visible to some of the fans in the South Carolina stadium and the Gamecock faithful begin to rain down abuse on the players. But the team doesn't notice. Arian Foster in the front ranks of the team bobs his head and begins to dance. The rest of the team is bouncing now too, on the toes of their cleats, a roiling mass of yelping and pad-slamming, a fiery beast of a team, angrier than they have been all season.

The team files across a concrete walkway to a covered access area. The covering tarp only extends about 10 yards. Several of the players bang on the ceiling and the covering billows in response to their punches. The players and nearby fans are yelling as the team waits to enter the field. Then, suddenly, the team shoots onto the grass into the building roar, a crescendo of hate descends upon them.

"Bring it motherfuckers, bring it!" screams Arian Foster, waving his arms above his head in the direction of the crowd.

At kickoff the entire sideline is jumping and shouting with more enthusiasm and adrenaline than I've seen this year. It seems impossible that Tennessee could lose this ballgame.

By halftime, it is 21-0 South Carolina.

Remember: Buy the book right here. Buy two, if you'd like.

First we have this candid photo shoot, featuring Layla all aglow with her little Kiffins. (Oh, and Lane. CatchmedadorI'lldie!) And then there's this television interview.

In the otherwise unsatisfying get-to-know you piece, we find out all the trials and tribulations the Kiffin clan endured after Lane freed himself from Al Davis' bony grip and galloped to Knoxville. Layla especially. We don't know Knoxville. What about the kids? Where on earth will we live?

And this last point was more problematic than you'd expect, actually. It turns out that the Kiffins finally settled on their new Southern digs because of its close proximity to the water.

The quest for a Knoxville home took longer than expected, but the Kiffins finally settled on a property on the water. They haven't moved in yet, but will soon.

Being on the water was not only a family preference, but a recruiting strategy.

"We had to spend more money on our home just to help the university in recruiting,'' Kiffin said with a smile.

That's strange. Because in the television interview it appears she wanted something "private." Maybe it's a moat?

Most of America is already well-versed on Lane Kiffin's freewheeling (sometimes topless) recruiting strategies, but I find it hard to believe that the deal-breaker for any of UT's incoming class was the fact that he owns waterfront property. Who fell for that? Bryce Brown? Or maybe it was Daniel Hood, who liked the proximity to the water just in case he wants to get his Max Cady on.

Either way, kind of odd. But, for once in Lane Kiffin's Tennessee coaching career, it doesn't appear to break any NCAA recruiting violations.

PHOTO: Knoxville News

*****

Thank you for your continued support of Deadspin. One of us won't last the night.

Eh, maybe not.

Yesterday it emerged, via CBSSports.com's Gregg Doyel, that the Raiders of Al Freaking Davis found Kiffin, former Oakland coach and current walking gift to sports blogging, a touch too Machiavellian for their tastes. Doyel had gotten his hands on a letter that the Raiders wrote in January to Kiffin's new employers at Tennessee. The letter accused Kiffin of undermining his old team and referred to his "personal agenda in his apparently on-going efforts to damage the Raiders," ignoring for a moment the Raiders' on-going efforts to damage the Raiders — not to mention the unseemliness of a company slagging its former employee in front of his new bosses. (Aren't there laws against this sort of thing? Why, yes. Yes, there are.)

Here's the letter:

Kiffin, who filed a grievance with the NFL over two months' pay, will be deposed Monday by the Raiders, and that will doubtlessly bring this whole episode to a quiet and sane close.

Raiders Depose Kiffin, Attack Former Coach In Letter To Tennessee [CBSSports]

They say behind every great man there is a great looking woman! Well it might not go exactly like that but it should! Our new YOUNG coach Lane Kiffin is toating a super hot M.I.L.F.. I'm hoping she's involved in the game plan somehow.

Welcome to Knoxville and PLEASE come around quite often! At least a loss won't be quite as bad next year. Come here and get lost in those georgious blue eyes!

As you can tell, spelling has always been our strong suit in Tennessee.

Layla is currently 8 months pregnant. (Yeah, I know. Every woman who sees the above picture is slamming their head into the computer screen over and over again.) If the Kiffin family every wondered what SEC football was like, they now know how all-encompassing it is. Layla Kiffin is already an internet superstar even though her husband has been at UT for two days. Lane Kiffin? He probably just wishes that someone had started www.firelanekiffin.com instead.

A few players raged against their teammates and the loss, but Fulmer pulled them aside and whispered to them in the alcove of the visitor's locker room. A few moments later the players' returned and were silent. Phil Fulmer sat massaging his knees for a few moments before he went outside to face the media. When he left the locker room his youngest daughter, Allison, was waiting for him in the hallway. She was already crying. So was Fulmer's wife Vicky. There were only a few people in the bowels of the stadium, but all of them gave the two a wide berth. As has been the case for most of his career as coach, Fulmer was the consoler, attempting to improve the mood of his distraught daughter. The final word had not yet arrived (that would come after a meeting on Sunday with athletic director Mike Hamilton), but the decision was self-evident: Phil Fulmer's career as head coach at UT was over.

Still later that night, well after midnight, as he emerged from the locker room Coach Fulmer took aside the driver of Tennessee's equipment big rig, Charlie Harris, "Be safe, Charlie," he said, "be safe." Fulmer has been like this for most of his career, aware of everyone associated with the UT program. "He tells me all the time," said Charlie on Thursday night as we drove the pads, helmets, and sundry other equipment to the South Carolina game, "that if I don't make it we can't play." As a result, like many around him, Charlie Harris would take a bullet for Coach Fulmer. As we drove through the South Carolina night early Sunday morning and began the climb up into North Carolina, Charlie Harris stared out into the looming mountains, "Whatever happens, Coach Fulmer is a damn fine man."

The press conference is planned for 5 eastern when the official announcement will come. But after 201 games as head coach during which time he ran up a record of 150-51, won a consensus national title in 1998 with an undefeated team, won back-to-back SEC titles in 1997-1998, and became the second winningest coach in Tennessee football history, Fulmer will finish out the 2008 season and slide into the Volunteer sunset. In the end Fulmer did what was best for the university, a place he's spent 34 of the past 40 years of his life since arriving in 1968 as an offensive guard on the football team. Instead of a protracted struggle or public fight, Fulmer stepped aside. The team, at 3-6, is in danger of losing more games than any Tennessee football team in history (no team has ever lost more than 7). Now come the final three games of an era.

Phil Fulmer ended his preseason speech at the annual Big Orange picnic in July by saying, "Let's go win a championship." In the end the failure to win an SEC championship since 1998 (with title game losses in 2001, 2004, and 2007) spelled the end. In leaving, Phil Fulmer is the final capstone on an era of SEC football. When he was hired in 1992 SEC football was still a regional pursuit; it wasn't unique that Fulmer had grown up in the state of Tennessee and attended the university for college. Now things have changed, there isn't a single coach born in the state in which they coach and none of the 11 other SEC coaches are graduates of their school. A regional pursuit has gone national.

Shortly before the Alabama game kickoff, Phil Fulmer stood in front of the dry-erase board and jotted down game notes. Finished, he turned around and walked over to me, "You picked a hell of a season to write a book, son," he said. In the end, as with most things in his career, Fulmer was right.

Sources: Tennessee Volunteers coach Fulmer to step down [ESPN]

Practice had just ended last week. The Tennessee starting tailback, a senior on the verge of becoming UT's all-time leading rusher, was requested for media interviews.

He had a demand: whoever interviewed him had to speak Pterodactyl, some made-up dinosaur language. No interview was conducted.

Foster and his family are featured subjects of the book and I like all of them. But this season has been so bad that every morning I wake up and tell myself, "You have a nice house and a nice wife and a nice son. They all like you. It really doesn't matter if your football team is bad." At some point I'm hoping this will take. Until then, our running back reverting to the Paleolithic era sort of provides a nice segue to our offensive schemes. Pray for me.

UT back's silence mirrors teams struggles [The Tennessean]

Last year Tennessee was 10-4 and won the SEC East. Change just three plays from three different games (a made field goal against South Carolina that sent the game into OT, Vanderbilt's missed field goal that would have won the Dores the game, and a blocked Kentucky field goal in OT) and Tennessee is 6-6. The same held true in 2006 (several plays from UT-Florida that ended in a 21-20 Gators win and the LSU loss on a Jamarcus Russell touchdown pass with nine seconds remaining). Change those two plays and Tennessee wins the SEC East and might be playing Ohio State for the national championship instead of Florida. And the year before that—the disastrous 2005 season that led to more drunken nights in Tennessee than the passage of the 1964 Civil Rights Amendment—change just three single plays and 5-6 becomes 8-3. So what I'm getting at is, it's not a cliche to say that three plays will likely end up determining whether Tennessee has a great or horrible season. Three damn plays.

Strengths

The Vols return their entire offensive line, top three running backs, top five receivers, and break in a new quarterback-Jonathan Crompton. The returning offensive line allowed less than five sacks all season. Of course some, such as me, discount this fact because Erik Ainge embraced the "backpedal and fling passes into the sideline as soon as a defensive tackle gets within five yards of you" quarterbacking strategy. Jonathan Crompton is the new golden boy. He's a redshirt junior who started two games two years ago. The Vols lost both. He brings mobility, a strong arm, and a buzz cut back into the Vol fold. In my lifetime no Tennessee quarterback with a buzz cut has ever led UT to an SEC Championship. This is potentially ominous. Unless Tee Martin's hair qualifies as a black buzz cut. I don't know, I'm not an expert.

At running back Tennessee returns Arian Foster who should become UT's all-time leading rusher this season. He's as likely to rush for 200 yards as he is to attend Knoxville poetry slams. Seriously. If Foster garners the record he'll be passing Travis "No Fallopian Tubes Can Stall My Boys" Henry. In related news there's already a UT prayer group meeting weekly to pray that at least one of Travis Henry's sons can break 800 on the SAT and be eligible to play at UT.

On defense Tennessee will feature the safety duo of Demetrice Morley and Eric Berry. Both will be first round picks in the NFL draft when they become eligible. Berry is only a sophomore and already the Kappa Kappa Gamma house on UT's campus has Blow Berry Tuesdays. Which was really cool until the Kappa Sigs at UT starting showing up too. Demetrice Morley didn't play last year. Because he was academically ineligible. Being academically ineligible at UT is really tough. Like finding a Florida Gator girl without a ready supply of Little Debbies. As a starting freshman Morley was an athletic safety with a tendency to "freelance." And by freelance what his coaches meant was "not have any idea what defense we're actually in." But that's in the past. Expect for Berry'd to become a very popular saying on College Gameday..and for Blow Berry Tuesdays to soon move to the Tri-Delt house.

Weaknesses

The Vols defensive line is made up of a collection of guys who have never quite lived up to their potential. And it's not a deep group. John Bell Hood Chavis has shown himself to be, at the very least, a huge proponent of stopping the run. Something that UT did not do at all last year. Of course stopping the run was easier back in the halcyon days of 2001 (adn before those damn Yankees got repeating rifles) when Tennessee started current Jaguar John Henderson and current Titan Albert Haynesworth. Now UT starts Demonte Bolden and Dan Williams at d-tackle. Yeah...I know. So the front four is an issue. As is replacing #10 pick Jerod Mayo—the SEC's leading tackler at linebacker—who left a year early.

The other major concern is the front-loaded schedule. Tennessee plays at UCLA, Florida, at Auburn, and at Georgia. All in their first six games. That's three of the top 11 teams in the country in one four week stretch. Just brutal. All three games will likely feature the Vols as underdogs. If UT can split with Georgia and Florida and get through the first six games with a 4-2 record, then the final six games of the season become much easier. Making 10-2 a possibility. But, as always, there are going to be three plays that define this season. It makes being a fan complete torture. Even more of a torture if you're a fan writing a book about the season, you'll be on the road all fall following the team, and you know that no one will read that book if the team tanks. Awesome.

Rivals

Tennessee's top rival is a generational debate. Those fans who are older than 30 generally consider Alabama to be their most hated foe. This dates from the profound losing streak to the Tide from 1986-1995. It was brutal. Even writing a sentence about it makes me want to dry heave. Those younger than 30 hate the Gators with an irrational passion because, to be frank, they owned us for the 90's. I'm 29 and I think I hate the Gators more. Although if Alabama starts beating us as regularly as the Gators do, that pendulum could swing again.

I've always been a big fan of truth combined with hyperbole. So we'll go with truth for Alabama. In light of the loss to Louisiana-Monroe and the Tide's continuing slide into national obscurity, Auburn is contemplating replacing the Tide with Troy so the Iron Bowl has a little more suspense. Which should sting. But not as much as this one: Vol fans don't even consider Alabama a rival anymore.

Florida is tougher. Which, in the absence of recent victories on your own side, is why you have to just go with the complete and utter truth. Florida Gator girls have bingo wings.

Three damn plays in three damn weeks. I can't wait.