The Cup Countdown: NUMBER SIXXXXXX

Jason Cook loves Heyzeus Christo. If it was possible, he'd still be president of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes at Ole Miss. As it stands now, he's the backup fullback in Baltimore and the center of the sixth greatest moment of the 2008 season.

There once was a man from Baton Rouge who rode into Mississippi, a weary traveler. He was quickly mugged, robbed and left for dead on the side of Highway 61. He lay there bleeding in his Jamarcus Russell replica jersey-tank top (ed: I can't even envision that), and a Mississippi State fan came by the man. He saw the man was in need, but, being a native of Starkville, he quickly scurried by since there was a cattle auction ending in only ten minutes. 

An Alabama fan came driving past this particular patch of Highway 61, and he saw the bloody Bayou Bengal. However, after seeing the LSU gear, the member of Bama-nation (still bitter about seeing Nick Saban is some damn LSU clothing in The Blindside) moved his vehicle to the other side of the highway to avoid the scurvy nave. 

Then the illustrious Jason Cook came up the road, stopping alongside the man. His eyes watered seeing the fan laying helplessly on the shoulder of the road. The Cajun thought his life had been saved. Cook kissed the shiny crucifix hanging from his thick, muscular neck. He closed his eyes, saying a short prayer.

Opening his eyes, it became clear what Cook needed to do. DECEIVE, DECEIVE, DECEIVE.

FAKE PUNT COOOOONASSSSSSS!!!1!1!!!!!

Cook peeled away from the location, and the LSU fan died. No big loss.

One fateful day in November, the now nefarious Jason Cook heaved a perfect pass to Kendrick Lewis, who raced ahead for a 33 yard gain. Ole Miss was ahead 7-3 with the ball on the LSU 38 facing a 4th and 4 situation. Cook regularly walked old ladies across the street, enjoys watching Perry Mason and drinks warm milk with his vitamins daily. If anyone was going to run a fake play, surely Coach Houston Nutt (the Right Rev) was going to choose someone of a shady background.

The play went off without a hitch. The lazy pass danced in the air like the feather from Forrest Gump's opening credits softly landing in the hands of Lewis who worked his way to the five yard line. Two plays later, Brandon Bolden scored from three yards out, giving the rebels a 14-3 lead. A lead like that in Tiger Stadium gave the Rebel faithful something to be proud of, but the lead coming from a senior player whose star had never shone very brightly in the highlight reels made it all the more special.

But why so special?  Because we had beaten Les Miles' LSU Tigers at their own game.  Miles has always been known as a lucky sunofabitch gambler who isn't afriad to do something risky if it means a potential victory.  His teams have also been characterized by tough defensive lines which control the pace of the opponents offense from the first play on.  On that November afternoon in Baton Rouge, Houston Nutt's Rebels did all of the above; not Les' Bayou Bengals.  That play (and really, that game) was almost a way of saying "hey Les, you cock, take this!" 

And now, an unrelated story from the weekend

As we have said before, that night was Juco's bachelor party/roadtrip, so we were all in great spirits. Juco, Whiskey Wednesday and I found ourselves without nourishment very close to game-time. We were distraught for a few minutes, but when we came upon Tiger Stadium and a collection of trailers serving the gourmet delights of Cajun-land(jambalaya, boudin, gator on a stick, crawdad and possum souffle, etc.), our moods lightened. This was what we were looking for in enemy territory; sausage and rice that was purchased from the back of a seedy trailer.

WW drunkenly pointed to his agape mouth. Seeing this sign of futile hunger, Juco and I acted quickly to get the poor man a styrofoam plate full of steaming jambalaya. It was hot, spicy and filling much like the prison rape of a game that LSU fans were about to experience.

WW then shoved a near empty bottle of Wild Turkey in my face shouting, "Man, you gotta finish this off, I'm tired of it." I quickly disposed of the three mL of remaining liquid from the 750 mL bottle. WW then told me two dozen times over about the many fights he planned to start if Ole Miss won, lost, ended the game in a tie, or had the game rained out. (ed: Join me in my phoenix-like revitilization of the Oxford comma.) 

The shrill shrieks of joy still ring in my ears from the Cook-Lewis connection. It was a wake up call for Rebels and Tigers alike. A new game had ridden into town, deception and talent mixed paramount in a late-season slap in the face to the Tigers. Cook was not on the field for the touchdown score as Bolden took the QB position in the Wild Rebel formation, but it was his usually less than mediocre arm that provided the needed artillery for our #6 moment.

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