Diss tracks have been in the headlines recently. Meek Mill and Drizzy are coming at one another on the daily and if there’s one thing we know about America (*Author’s note: or Canada. . .I guess?) it’s that we love a good hate-fest. If there’s two things we know about America, it’s that we’re full of unoriginal hacks.
So I decided to write my own diss track, calling out each of the Big Ten’s 14 football teams. And I totally stole the idea from Deadspin. So somebody kick the beat from Back to Back and let’s get going.
Minnesota: you’re dirt because you’re the Donald Trump of the Big Ten. Somehow You’re still hanging around and getting mentioned in the conversation with the “real” teams even though you’re going to inevitably crumble under the weight of your minuscule expectations. And, I know what you might be saying: “hey, Chris, why would they crumble under the weight of something that’s not very heavy?” Because those minuscule expectations are also covered under 13 feet of ice, 3 feet of snow, and miles of frozen tundra that stretch as far as your sled dogs can run. You’re dirt because Jerry’s last name might be Kill, but the only people dying during Minnesota football games are the ones analyzing Mitch Leidner’s throwing motion. Oh, and the people who have literally been turned into White Walker’s before halftime in your outdoor stadium during a November game.
You’re dirt because your AD is a verifiable perv and it’s quickly becoming clear that the only reason he kept Jerry Kill around was that he’s oozing with sex appeal.
Nebraska: you’re dirt because you’re the M. Night Shaynalan of college football. You enjoyed a ton of success in the 1990’s and now you’re trying really hard to stay relevant. You’re pumping money and effort into your program and desperately hoping that you’ll stop producing Devil style seasons. You try so hard but keep coming out with The Happenings. And your dirt because you have a die-hard audience that always thinks you’re better or something more important than you actually are. They’re basically fanboys/fangirls that are foaming at the mouth anytime they see a propagandist hype video detailing the Rise of the ‘Skers.
You’re dirt, Nebraska, because you’re so worried about the past that your team bus is a DeLorean stretch limo with a flux capacitor and in the past few seasons you guys fumbled the ball so much that you’ve put more balls on the turf than an all-male, outdoor, nudist meditation circle.
You’re dirt because “The Sea of Red” sounds like a National Geographic story detailing an Ebola outbreak in a Liberian refugee town. You’re dirt, Nebraska, because you’re trying desperately to stop feeling like the Blockbuster of Big Ten Teams, dying a slow painful death while clinging to your VHS tapes of 1997. You’re dirt because your fans are so nice that opponents probably feel like they’ve stumbled into the first 20 minutes of a horror movie and when they get to the concession stand in the basement of Memorial Stadium they’ll find out that the Valentino’s pizza is actually made from human flesh.
Wisconsin: you’re dirt because Barry Alvarez isn’t an athletic director for your football program anymore. He’s your Momager. He’s Kris Jenner and your program is one of the Kardashianner (*Author’s note: do people call those girls that yet?) sisters. You can’t quite seem to escape his clawing, feverish clutches or his beady, micro-managing eyes. He’s marionetting everyone around like you’re JC Chasez in the “Bye, Bye, Bye” music video and now he’s finally got his stooge in place: Paul Chryst.
For the love of Chryst what a weird hire. You’re dirt because not only does Wisconsin’s version of Joe Jackson pretty much turn you guys into Tito as often as possible, but your fans routinely believe that you’re still the Jackson 5 even if Michael isn’t walking back through that door for a reunion anytime soon. You’re dirt because Joel Stave appears to have some kind of cheat code entered into the real life version of NCAA 2015 that gives him unlimited eligibility and so you may never be free of his mediocre ass.
And make no mistake, Joel Stave is aggressively mediocre. He’s the normcore of the Big Ten’s quarterback class. He’s denim on denim. He’s so middle of the road that is you squint your eyes when he’s dropping back all you can see is a dotted yellow line. You’re dirt, Wisconsin, because a stadium full of white people, that’re all hopped up on cheese curds and cheap beer, dancing their gelatinous asses off to a song from the 1990’s by a white, one-hit-wonder rap group is the honkiest thing that can happen in the sport of football.
Michigan State: you’re dirt because the only burns I can even come up with for you guys are centered around Tom Izzo. You’re dirt because your students act like they have somewhere better to be during your football games. And give your geographic location: literally the only place they could possibly “rather be” is Flint, Michigan.
And if your students would rather be in Flint, then you should pack up your 3 years of success and head for the Canadian border to get free healthcare and lesser competition. You’re dirt because your head coach appears to enjoy his job as much as a Wal-Mart cashier pulling a double shift on Black Friday and you’re pretty much like cupcakes: you’ve been around for 90 years and no one cared about you at all until 3 years ago when you inexplicably became cool, but we all keep waiting for the shark to get jumped and the entire operation to go back to being a fringe-element.
Ohio State: You’re dirt because your football team smokes more weed than William Shakespeare while simultaneously having no idea who that is. “But soft, what light from yonder window breaks? It is a blunt, and Joey Bosa’s lighter is the sun!” You’re dirt because your coach treats retirement like it’s Snapchat. It’s temporary, it’s not worth taking very seriously, and it will usually have something to do with a young, skeezy, co-ed that he’s hoping will disappear in 15 seconds.
You’re dirt because you’ve got more quarter backs than an elderly grandmother who finally hit the daily double jackpot at the slot machine and all anyone wants to talk about is how bad Cardale jones wants Ronda Rousey. That’s not what a “rear naked choke” means, Cardale. You’re dirt because you’re actually not at all and the rest of us are more bitter than the all-natural, gluten-free, 98% cacao bean chocolate bar that the Michigan fans are probably serving at their tailgate party on Saturday.
Penn State: You Are! So dirt! You’re dirt because your coach is pretty phenomenal at popping off at the mouth with ideas of self-inflated grandeur, but when it’s time to really throw down, he’s coming up a lot like another big shot from Pennsylvania: Meek Mill. You’re dirt because your state looks like a giant credit card that was used to Jimmy open the lock on New Jersey and you’re the only place in the entire continent of North America that still wants to raise a beer to Joe Paterno with Joe Paterno’s face on it.
You’re dirt, Penn State, because when you say you’re having a “Whiteout” I don’t know I you’re getting a stadium ready to dress alike or if you’re just referring to your student body’s racial diversity.
Michigan: You’re dirt, Michigan. Because, yeah, you’ve got Jim Harbaugh. But believing that this fact alone will Polaroid your team into instant development is pretty…hmmm….what’s the word I’m looking for, here? It’s that adjective that sums up the fact that you guys do your tailgate shopping at Pottery Barn and consider a wild pregame party to be one that has napkins that are only 89% Egyptian Cotton. That’s right. Arrogant. Actually more like ARROGANT.
You’re dirt because when your fan-base logs onto their MSN homepage and starts to search for “Cardale Jones” on their desktop computer (*Author’s note: you guys are the ones that still have desktop computers. And desks.)
“Cardigan Jumpers” auto-fills in based on your previous search history. And, yes, you do have Jim Harbaugh but your other big off-season acquisition? Jake Rudock. Don’t count your khakis before they pleat, Michigan fans. You’re dirt because you head coach is in charge of mentoring and molding the minds of your youth and the last time he had a rebuilding job this big it was to repair Screech’s reputation at Bayside High School.
And we all know how that
knifed out turned out. I mean there’s probably at least one shank you thank you card owed to Jim for his work with Dustin Diamond. You’re dirt, Michigan, because for the last few seasons, “The Big House” would’ve been more aptly titled: the abandoned, decrepit shack at the end of the street that is only used for synthetic weed parties and meth-baking.
Northwestern: You’re dirt, Northwestern. Because you are the smartest dumb dudes I know. You’re dirt because you’re confusing the rest of us plebians with all your talk of Unions and labor laws and what you’ve missed out on your Jimmy Hoffa-esque attempt to put the power in your own hands is this: your Union, even if it exists, will still be a union for the team that averages 38,000 home fans per game.
You’re dirt because Pat Fitzgerald has been a “hot name in coaching” for so long that he’s burned out all the interest even though he’s only 40. I’ll put it in terms you guys at Northwestern will understand: the oxidation rate of Pat Fitzgerald’s nitrogen tetroxide is dramatically slowing based on the fact that you guys went from a highly efficient combustion engine a few years ago to. . .dirt.
You’re dirt because in 5 years, when she’s firmly afffixed atop the selfie mountaintop of Instagram, North West will totally change the game by making #Northwestern trend for the first time ever. But she’ll be talking about her totes adorebz crop-top she just got at Dash.
Indiana: You’re dirt because your head football coach once let himself be photographed with this on his face.
And he will henceforth and forevermore have that mustache in your mind. Every Rorschach test, every fading nightmare that hideously lingers at the back of your fleeting consciousness will now be Kevin Wilson.
I saw this image one time while I was trying to figure out who your coach was and now it’s the only thing that pops into my head when I imagine your football program. He doesn’t even have the mustache anymore. It’s gone. Probably shaven off after he was facially-profiled by the Bloomington Police Department and asked to stay at least 50 feet away from any public parks and/or schools. And the mustache is one thing, but the fact that he’s got his head tilted like he’s doing a senior photo and his soul-less, doll-eyes follow you wherever you go? You’re dirt Indiana. Because of one picture and an ineffectual history of nothingness between the lines.
Purdue: You’re dirt because I have to Google your football team just to try to come up with something to hate about you. You’re dirt because you’ve been playing football since 1887 and you’ve won a grand total of 12 conference titles. TWELVE. In 128 years. And two of those titles came in 1918 and 1943, respectively. I feel like there might have been a reason for that. Something subtle that led to an unexpectedly good season. Oh, that’s right, Purdue. You guys need a World War to win the conference.
Iowa: You’re dirt Iowa, because at this point it’s pretty played out to mention that your head coach is practically Ponzi Scheming your entire state. But I feel compelled to do it anyway.
Did you notice how all the “Dummies” books are in Iowa colors? You’re dirt.
Maryland: You’re dirt because of this.
And it looks like you’re all out of football.
Rutgers: You’re dirt Rutgers, because your quarterback from last year, Gary Nova, has a name so porn-y sounding that I was worried to Google it while I was at work to see if he was still at your school. You’re dirt because it turns out one of your “distinguished alumni” is actually not porn-y. She’s just porn.
You’re dirt because your team is so bad that your fans are probably petitioning Chris Christie to close all the bridges that lead to your football stadium so no one can watch the New Jersey garbage-fire that is a Kyle Flood coached team. You’re dirt because your head coach is named “Flood” and the irony of the situation — that your program is sinking like a Rutgers-science-department-designed-submarine into the cess-pooled waters of the Jersey Shore with him at the helm — wouldn’t be lost on your fans except that they won’t read this because they just saw the headline reading “Rutgers” and immediately went looking for news on Geno Smith’s jaw.
Illinois: You’re dirt because I had to count the teams just to remember that I forgot to include you. You’re dirt because Tim Beckman really, really b.l.o.w.s at acronyms.
Oh, and coaching. He sucks at coaching too. You’re dirt because your coach is a sociopath that stumbled up to the podium at Big Ten Media days clearly high on his chewing tobacco and generally looked and acted like a crappy villain from a movie starring The Rock from 2005. You’re dirt because you have a defensive end named Jihad and I can’t think of any way to pronounce his name that doesn’t blow my mind.
(*Author’s note: I’m sure I missed someone, something, or that I just insulted your favorite team. DJ! Drop the beat and let’s all battle.)