Loyal Cougars

Boney Fuller’s Season Preview 2016

As we ramp into the 2016 college football season, Boney Fuller offers his take on BYU’s opponents this season.

Hi, there. Have a seat. Put your feet up. Relax. Would you like a drink? Well, did you bring one? I’m sorry, I don’t have any clean glasses. Well, okay, I’ll check, hold on a second. Honestly, it’s rude to ask after I just told you I don’t have any clean glasses, it’s like you’re implying that I lied to you, and I was really putting myself out there…wait, there’s a can of root beer in the fridge. You want that? Of course it’s not already ope…wait, yes it is, you really shouldn’t drink this.

Look, this is all really beside the point, you should have had a drink before you came. We’re here to talk about something serious. Yes, it’s time for another college football season, my friend, and just like last year (and just like next year if I can maintain my attention span that long), I’m here for you.

You see, the world of college football is complex, complicated even. That is to say, it’s not a game for simpletons. There are all kinds of tricky terms like “conference,” “lisfranc,” and “Whittingham” that defy common human understanding. You need a guide. We all need a guide. Except me. I’m the guide. No, I’m your guide. Just you. So, forget the drinks or non-drinks and let’s talk about this upcoming football season. That’s right my friend, it’s time for

Like Jesus, I’ve found it’s simpler to break something complicated (in this case college football) down into something easier to understand for the layman (in this case you). Last year I presented the season preview in terms of celebrities, which was exactly the kind of dreck the masses could digest easily. Don’t worry, I’m talking about everyone but you. But just like Jesus never told the same parable twice (probably, I don’t know), this year I decided to move onto something more fitting of someone of your intellectual prowess. Here we go.


The University of Arizona is Wile E. Coyote. Listen, Wile sometimes gets a bad rap, but he’s not such a bad guy. He’s just hungry, trying to make it in a desert hellscape where you have to kill to survive. Aren’t we all a little hungry? Hungry for a taste of that savory bird meat called football glory. Sure he fails a lot, but man, he keeps trying. His confidence never waivers, nor does his ability to come up with nifty but futile gimmicks like launching himself toward his prey on a rocket or hiring Rich Rod and declaring that defense is overrated. Like Mr. Coyote, Arizona justs keep plugging along. You can turn on the TV at any given time and think “Oh, hey, what do you know. There they are. Still trying. Good for them.” Oh, look, there’s Roadrunner on the horizon. MEEP MEEP.


The University of Utah is the Beverly Hillbilly Bears. First off, yes, there is indeed a Beverly Hillbillies cartoon, and for readers east of Blanding, Utah, I assure you that Utah definitely still has an athletic program. If you want to see a Ute in your neck of the woods, they are most often spotted lurking near prisons, with clipboards, pens, and letters of intent in tow. But I digress. The comparison is so obvious it hardly merits exposition, but I’m going to do it anyway just because it gives me so much pleasure. Like the Hillbillies, the Utes are a rank band of backwater, yellow-toothed parochials who just happened to stumble upon a football gusher while digging themselves a backyard latrine and wound up in the Beverly Hills of college football. And now no one really wants them there and their kids are definitely giving the other kids lice.


UCLA is Johnny Bravo. Great hair. Flexes like a champ, but it all smacks a little bit of desperation. She’s not interested, Bruins.


West Virginia University is Cletus Delroy Spuckler (also known as Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel). “Hey, what’s goin’ on on this side?” drawled WVU as it bolted from the limp embrace of the Big East to the crazy-eyed caresses of the sultry Big 12. Just like Cletus, WVU is a sideshow figure in a comedy that really revolves around two or three main characters (please let us be in your show, we’ve already got a part picked out). Also, just like Cletus, studies have found that inhabitants of West Virginia are 93 percent more likely to lose a toe, eat a skunk, be at least partially blinded in a pitchfork fight, and able to call their ma while they’re up there. “Hey, ma! GET OFF THE DANG ROOF!”


Toledo is Tummi Gummi from Disney’s Adventures of the Gummi Bears. Both kind of sound familiar, but if you are being honest, you don’t know much about either. But that won’t stop you from pretending. “Sure, I’ve heard of that,” you casually lie to your coworkers to fit in. But you shouldn’t have done that. You’ve never been a good liar. Uh oh, now they are asking you what SPECIFICALLY you like. “All the things,” you stammer. Congratulations, you just earned yourself a year of lunches with that guy that asks weird questions during Sexual Harassment trainings. There goes Toledo, bouncing, bouncing, bouncing into obscurity.


Michigan State is Luigi from the 80s classic Super Mario Bros. All he wants is for Mario to pay attention to him or to get his own game, but big brother is too focused on kicking shells at Buckeye Bowser and doing some intense necking with Princess Peach to even look toward East Lansing and realize it had a true rival there all along. Well, Luigi’s got Mario’s attention now and, frankly, things are starting to get a little fratricidal.


Mississippi State is Pinky, from Pinky and the Brain, the dumbest member of a troupe of football powerhouses that would otherwise be hard-pressed to fill a thimble with their collective brain power. Except Dot. Imagine being the number two school in America’s only third-world state, paling around with your brainier but far more pretentious mouse companion only for both of you to inevitably reach the same disastrous conclusion at the end of every episode. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Mississippi State?” “I think so, Ole Miss, but this time it’s your turn to put the trousers on the chimpanzee.”


Boise State is Ed, from Ed, Edd n Eddy. You start watching Ed, Edd n Eddy and you think, “Wow, this cartoon is incredibly stupid,” and that’s not the only thing it has in common with Boise State, a school that hits most college rankings at the lofty heights of NR. But like EEE in its heyday, Boise has found its niche through gimmick, quirky charm, and a small group of fans with the simple and easily entranced minds of small children. Who else could possibly think a garish blue field is anything but an assault on common decency but people from a state that boasts America’s highest number of bunkers per capita? Like Boise, despite having a brain that God cobbled together from whatever spare parts he had lying around, Ed had the brute strength and confidence possessed only by those stupid enough to know better to do remarkable things season after season. Can they sustain it long enough to be more than a flash in the pan? No.


Cincinnati is Doug from…Doug. Look, Doug was fine. Everyone liked that dog and it was pretty funny to watch Doug clown around trying to get Patty’s attention, even though Patty was unattractive even for a gangly teenage cartoon and had that Marge Simpson on helium voice. All the people were like weird colors for no explicable reason. But when you think about all those great 90s cartoons ranging from Ducktales to Animaniacs to Powerpuff Girls, Doug is just, like, whatever. Who cares? Who remembers? Why does the theme sound like the intro to a Rusted Root song? Man, the 90s were weird.


Southern Utah is Gadget from Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers. You remember Gadget, right? Cute, energetic, kind of endearing, nothing really to complain about. But then you made the mistake of Googling her one Saturday night and you just aren’t comfortable with the kind of fans you found and you can never look at her the same again. SUU is kind of like that, except you didn’t know SUU existed until you read this paragraph.


UMass is Captain Planet. Man. This show sucked, guys. What did Captain Planet even do? I feel like every episode he basically just sent that gang of awkward idiots and their ridiculous rings to go and fix everything, and then the Captain just showed up at the end to lecture everybody and shout “Excelsior!” or whatever. Anyway, Captain Planet sucked and so does UMass.  


Utah State is Heifer from Rocko’s Modern Life. Keep on reaching, Aggies.


And who is BYU, you ask? Well, that seems pretty obvious. BYU is Ned Flanders. Look, I get it. Ned Flanders is the worst. But have you ever stopped to think of this other thing about Ned? Namely, that he’s also the best? It’s no secret Ned’s a huge dork. Sporting an honor-code compliant mustache, Ned says out loud, in front of others, that he lives his life according to the three Cs: clean living, chewing thoroughly, and a healthy dose of vitamin church. He’s relentlessly and sometimes unrealistically positive given his position in life. He’s the kind of guy that prefers his past-time with a steaming side of sentimental message. And like BYU fans, he draws heavily upon one of God’s lesser-known loopholes which is that if you change a swear word just slightly before shouting it in anger, you can still get into heaven, no questions asked. But Ned’s great because he owns it. Ned is happy being Ned. And when Ned offers to give you the shirt off his back, you should accept. His abs are unreal.

If you enjoyed this, check out my fall camp preview and my exclusive expansion guide!


  1. Brandon Jones

    August 24, 2016 at 8:17 pm

    Wow! Another gem. Yeah, definitely don’t Google that Gadget chick. That will haunt my dreams forever.

  2. Manford

    August 24, 2016 at 9:02 pm

    We’re not worthy. Article by article, Boney is constructing the Seven Wonders of the BYU humor world. I’m going to say this one is the Hanging Gardens of Boneylon.

Leave a Reply