I recently had the misfortune of working with a KU football player for an English group project.
We presented on Tuesday but my body is still sore from dragging his weight. Likewise, my ears are still bleeding from the inane crap that spewed from his mouth.
Most of it regarding the beef between the KU football and basketball team. Something about… well, how much he hated the basketball team.
Last fall there were several altercations between these mortal enemies, one of which sent then-sophomore Tyshawn Taylor to the hospital with a dislocated finger. As if this wasn’t evidence enough, the aforementioned football player proceeded to divulge more and more information about the surmounting tension.
In fact, he wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
He went on and on, discussing the douchebaggery of the basketball team, the womanizing, the drinking, the drugs, the occasional outlandish claim that couldn’t really be justified. He went on so long that I started to feel his insecurities latch on to my earlobes, begging for reinforcement. Oh, and just to be spiteful, it was past 10:30 PM.
I’m not a mean person, but after six hours of vague insults I may start to throw a few myself. Perhaps it’s only natural that a 2-6 football team holds hostility toward their successful basketball counterparts. It’s possible that the alleged “gentleman” football players are bitter because they are irrelevant. I’m more partial to the latter statement because of the two times my group mate shouted for recognition during class.
“Hey guys, did you see that win last night?!” he will inquire as he casts out his line and reels back some big fat silence.
No. Those who went left at halftime. Furthermore, I would think his fishing for compliments to be endearing if he wasn’t such a prick. Consider this my vengeance for slacking on the workload.