The Voodoo Five Eulogies: USF vs. Miami, 2012 (The Day The Football Died)

Some games are painful in the moment. A bad break here, a bad call there, an upset or two. Some are really painful, and they take awhile for you to move past them. But eventually, you recover. You tuck the memory away in some dark recess of your brain and get on with your life as a fan.

Miami 40, USF 9 is not one of those games, and November 17, 2012 is not one of those days. It was a complete capitulation for USF athletics on and off the field. The players weren't good enough, the coaches completely failed them, and leadership's lack of effort and vision finally came back to bite everyone. It was the day the football died. It's the worst loss in USF history, and it's hard to imagine there will ever be a loss more complete than this one.

Actually, we feel a song coming on...

Um... no, that's not singing, Skip. Next time, use your damn timeouts.

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SOUTH FLORIDA PIE

(sung to the tune of "American Pie" by Don McLean)

A long, long time ago
I can still remember how that football used to make me smile
And I knew if they had their chance
That they could make Bulls Country dance
And maybe not be crappy for a while

But late November made me shiver
With every blog post I'd deliver
Bad news on the website
I couldn't take one more night

I can't remember if I cried
When I read about "the Big East died"
But something touched me deep inside
The day the football died

So bye-bye, Miss South Florida Pie
Skip repeated "we competed", but the pipeline was dry
Them good old boys were waving winning goodbye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die"

Did you root for AJ Love
And did you have faith in the Bulls above
If Jim Leavitt told you so?
Now do you live in green and gold
Can Taggart save your mortal soul
And can you teach me how to play real slow?

Well, I knew Skip was in love with him
'Cause he burned his redshirt nine games in
Bobby put on his shoes
A quarter later, had the injury blues

We shared a first-rate stadium with the Bucs
Our program growing and full of pluck
But we knew we were out of luck
The day the football died

I started singin' bye-bye, Miss South Florida Pie
Skip repeated "we competed", but the pipeline was dry
Them good old boys were waving winning goodbye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die"

Now for two years we've been on our own
And loss grows fat on a rollin' stone
But that's not how it used to be
When the sellouts cheered for the gold and green
Songs borrowed from Rage Against The Machine
And a voice that came from you and me

Oh, and while the team was looking down
O'Leary stole their thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned

And while Skip became a hopeless mark
We practiced field goals in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the football died

We were singin' bye-bye, Miss South Florida Pie
Skip repeated "we competed", but the pipeline was dry
Them good old boys were waving winning goodbye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die"

Helter skelter in Miami swelter
The Bulls were stuck with no fallout shelter
16 points down and falling fast
The fumbles landed on the grass
The defense couldn't stop the forward pass
And BJ Daniels on the sidelines in a cast

Now the halftime air was complete doom
While the Band of the Hour played some old tune
We were all in a trance
And then we lost our shining chance

'Cause Big Ten expansion was revealed
Rutgers left to join their field
Our fate as also-rans was sealed
The day the football died

We were singin' bye-bye, Miss South Florida Pie
Skip repeated "we competed", but the pipeline was dry
Them good old boys were waving winning goodbye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die"

Oh, and there they were all in one place
A coaching staff just lost in space
With no time left to start again
So come on, Doug be nimble, Doug be quick
Skip Holtz' coaching makes me sick
'Cause "fire" is the era's only end

Oh, and as I watched him leave the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in Hell
Could make Matt Floyd play well.

And as the points climbed high into the night
To light the scoreboard big and bright
I saw Al Golden laughing with delight
The day the football died

We were singin' bye-bye, Miss South Florida Pie
Skip repeated "we competed", but the pipeline was dry
Them good old boys were waving winning goodbye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die"

I knew a man who leaked the blues
And I asked him for some happy news
But he just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where we'd beaten Pat White years before
But the man there said the football wouldn't play

And in the stands, the boosters screamed
The Sun Dolls cried and the players dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The program had been broken

And the three men we disliked the most
Doug and Bill and the coach Skip Holtz
They drank a contract extension toast
The day the football died

And they were singin' bye-bye, Miss South Florida Pie
Skip repeated "we competed", but the pipeline was dry
Them good old boys were waving winning goodbye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die"

They were singin' bye-bye, Miss South Florida Pie
Skip repeated "we competed", but the pipeline was dry
Them good old boys were waving winning goodbye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die"