I’m so stoked. I’m stoked of going into every Indiana-Ohio State game thread in the first three quarters and seeing the same god damn thing.

“What is going on here?!?!?”

“Can Indiana actually win it this time?”

“Good team”

“Indiana is so spooky.”

“This is the year they pull it out just wait!”

“Indiana might actually be good.”

Guess the fuckety fucking fuck what. Yes they fucking can. They got it. This is IU. There is so much happiness here. We will pull it out. We will leave it in there and the next thing you know you’re 33 years old with no kids, living in a single family home with a solid wood bathroom door because you bought it when you were drunk in Salem, married to a semi-retired cheerleader from Martinsville, and an erection the size of a KEG OF KEYSTONE LIGHT BECAUSE YOUR COACH TAUGHT YOU THE OL 1BIG RED ZONE STOP.

And dont bring your chaos gods bullshit up in here. CHAOS ISNT GOING 13-0 IN ONLY YOUR COACH'S 2ND SEASON. Your chaos gods have forsaken you. Winning in heartwarming and dominant fashion is your new god.

Ya wanna know what it’s like being an IU football fan? It’s like getting ready to have sex with a girl and she slips your dick out of your pants, starts to blow you, then says you're one of the most humble guys she's ever met. And then says she wants to pay for dinner.

IT TOOK OUR HEAD COACH GOING SICKO MODE TO GET AN UNDEFEATED SEASON.

Don’t tell me it’ll wear off. Don’t tell me how to feel my feelings. I don’t want to hear “we couldn't close out the year” From Vandy. And I don’t want to hear fucking a fucking thing from UCF. Fuck you. You lost your coach immediately. I don’t want to hear about how I just have to wait. I DID MY WAITING. 24 YEARS OF IT! ON STATE ROAD 37!

One day I’ll die and the joy of being an IU fan will be over. I’ll be fighting to stay out of hell, I’ll get pushed within 27 yards from the firey pit, full of fear and trepidation with all my successes over, there will be heavy anxious music, and then all of a sudden from out of nowhere I’ll hear bright, energetic Gus Johnson shout and say, “Field Goal missed by J. Fielding wide left.” The music stops, hope fills my stomach, everything turns brighter. Just then, a light shows up and Jesus appears. I feel the warmth again, everything will be alright. He leans forward as if to tell me something wonderful and whispers almost inaudibly, “I-U” then hugs me right in the chest and shoves me up to rise into a cream and crimson room with my eyes wide open to watch this fucking game on repeat for the rest of eternity.