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Buffs vs TCU - Sept 2

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I think they’re a blast!
In my experience:
- they are dreadfully slow, 5+ hour rounds
- there is always some team that shoots 52 but everyone knows they cheated to do that
- I feel like it’s bad for my game because I’m always trying to hit a “hero” shot that I would never hit if I was playing my own ball
- Did I mention that it’s horribly slow? it’s worse if there are mulligans, string, etc.
 
In my experience:
- they are dreadfully slow, 5+ hour rounds
- there is always some team that shoots 52 but everyone knows they cheated to do that
- I feel like it’s bad for my game because I’m always trying to hit a “hero” shot that I would never hit if I was playing my own ball
- Did I mention that it’s horribly slow? it’s worse if there are mulligans, string, etc.
Best Scramble I ever played in was in KC as a fundraiser for the Benedictine soccer team. They double stacked all 18 tee boxes and we would finish in a little over 4 hours. The key was that par is the worst score you could take on each hole. It kept everybody moving.
 
Best Scramble I ever played in was in KV as a fundraiser for Benedictine soccer team. They double stacked all 18 tees boxes and we would finish in a little over 4 hours. The key was that par is the worst score you could take on each hole. It kept everybody moving.
And like I mentioned, they can be fun in terms of the social aspect, but I tend to avoid them as much as I can.
 
And like I mentioned, they can be fun in terms of the social aspect, but I tend to avoid them as much as I can.
I played in 2 of the Grant Wistrom charity tournaments in Lincoln back in the 2000's. it was fun to roll up in Buff gear and custom CU golf bag. Jason Peter would always try to steal my bag. Frost was supposed to be our 5th the second year and he never showed up, Wistrom told us he got hammered with them the previous night and was still passed out.
 
Since most scrambles that I’ve played in, are fund raisers, mulligans/string/etc are always sold separately, to raise more money. And everyone buys the maximum in order to maximize the fund raising. And that just slows things down more.
I get it for the funds... but when I play, it is an unwritten rule to never use them.... so we can all get to the bar quicker.
 
I'm making the drive over, and 8 buddies are flying in. We're renting a party bus to the winstar casino on the Oklahoma/Texas border Thursday night, and back, a few events Friday (probably Billy Bob's Friday night), then the game Saturday. Tailgating at 8 am in lot 4. A few of them aren't big CU fans, but are coming for the fun. As a group, we can have too much fun sometimes, so I had to set the tone about the importance of making into the stadium on time, so I had to send them a serious text on my guidelines for game day. Thought I'd share my rant as I'm sure a lot of you would appreciate it...

'I'll get this rant out of the way...I have been a buff fan as long as I can remember. Since young childhood. One of my most vivid childhood memories was the feeling I had in the basement of my house the day of the Hail Mary against Michigan. Even as a 9 year old, I understood the importance of the game. We were the best team we've had since the title. Arguably more talented. The game had to be won or national title hopes would be dashed. I remember my emotions before the last play. I remember being in tears knowing we were ****ed. I was laying on my stomach, face down. I remember the smell of our living room carpet, the feel of it on my tear soaked cheeks, scared of that sliver of hope in the back of my mind we'd somehow pull it out. Knowing it was too improbable to have hope, and yet unable to let that tiny bit go. Knowing that hope was going to break my heart even more when the ball hit the grass incomplete. Then Westbrook made the catch. I had never experienced the extreme delta of emotion up to that point in my life. At that point I understood what it meant to be a passionate fan of something. Fast forward through the decent success from the late 90s to mid 2000s, having season tickets in college paid with hard farm had work in the summer (and maybe some student loan money). Since the mid 2000s it's been a **** show of epic proportions. But I've loved too much to give up on it. My wife won't stay in the same room during games as me, often not even in the house because of how fired up I get. So this coach Prime unprecedented, miraculous in the truest form of the word, lifeline extended to the program has given me and this program the opportunity to feel that way I did as a child, from tears face down in the carpet, to the elation of victory. That starts next Saturday. So that being said, not to be a ****, but not you guys (who I love and adore), not my wife, not the president of the United States, not the national ****ing guard, is stopping me from getting into that game in a timely matter. So if you want in, you either need to A) be there with me as I walk in at 10:30 am central time, or B) research how to transfer the tickets to your digital prison wallet so you aren't beholden to my timeline. I'd love for you all to walk in with me, but if not, I understand. But I'm not waiting for one more shot, one more cup in beer pong, one more flip cup, look at this squirrel, look at this coed showing her butthole, nothing. So buckle up and have your **** together when the march into the stadium commences.'
 
I'm making the drive over, and 8 buddies are flying in. We're renting a party bus to the winstar casino on the Oklahoma/Texas border Thursday night, and back, a few events Friday (probably Billy Bob's Friday night), then the game Saturday. Tailgating at 8 am in lot 4. A few of them aren't big CU fans, but are coming for the fun. As a group, we can have too much fun sometimes, so I had to set the tone about the importance of making into the stadium on time, so I had to send them a serious text on my guidelines for game day. Thought I'd share my rant as I'm sure a lot of you would appreciate it...

'I'll get this rant out of the way...I have been a buff fan as long as I can remember. Since young childhood. One of my most vivid childhood memories was the feeling I had in the basement of my house the day of the Hail Mary against Michigan. Even as a 9 year old, I understood the importance of the game. We were the best team we've had since the title. Arguably more talented. The game had to be won or national title hopes would be dashed. I remember my emotions before the last play. I remember being in tears knowing we were ****ed. I was laying on my stomach, face down. I remember the smell of our living room carpet, the feel of it on my tear soaked cheeks, scared of that sliver of hope in the back of my mind we'd somehow pull it out. Knowing it was too improbable to have hope, and yet unable to let that tiny bit go. Knowing that hope was going to break my heart even more when the ball hit the grass incomplete. Then Westbrook made the catch. I had never experienced the extreme delta of emotion up to that point in my life. At that point I understood what it meant to be a passionate fan of something. Fast forward through the decent success from the late 90s to mid 2000s, having season tickets in college paid with hard farm had work in the summer (and maybe some student loan money). Since the mid 2000s it's been a **** show of epic proportions. But I've loved too much to give up on it. My wife won't stay in the same room during games as me, often not even in the house because of how fired up I get. So this coach Prime unprecedented, miraculous in the truest form of the word, lifeline extended to the program has given me and this program the opportunity to feel that way I did as a child, from tears face down in the carpet, to the elation of victory. That starts next Saturday. So that being said, not to be a ****, but not you guys (who I love and adore), not my wife, not the president of the United States, not the national ****ing guard, is stopping me from getting into that game in a timely matter. So if you want in, you either need to A) be there with me as I walk in at 10:30 am central time, or B) research how to transfer the tickets to your digital prison wallet so you aren't beholden to my timeline. I'd love for you all to walk in with me, but if not, I understand. But I'm not waiting for one more shot, one more cup in beer pong, one more flip cup, look at this squirrel, look at this coed showing her butthole, nothing. So buckle up and have your **** together when the march into the stadium commences.'
 
I fly into DFW Friday, Sept. 1 at around 10 a.m. Staying at a motel by the Stockyards Friday/Saturday night. Fun planned with some local friends at the Stockyards on Friday evening/night (Billy Bob's Texas on the agenda from 8 pm). MEET US? Steaks? Drinks? Let's do it.

Gameday is Buffs Bash and Dallas Forever Buffs gathering/tailgate (starting 8/8:30 am). Let's drink, eat, and be merry!! Section 413, Row F is my seating.

LOOK FOR THE 'OL CU COWBOY HAT 🤠🤠
 
I'm making the drive over, and 8 buddies are flying in. We're renting a party bus to the winstar casino on the Oklahoma/Texas border Thursday night, and back, a few events Friday (probably Billy Bob's Friday night), then the game Saturday. Tailgating at 8 am in lot 4. A few of them aren't big CU fans, but are coming for the fun. As a group, we can have too much fun sometimes, so I had to set the tone about the importance of making into the stadium on time, so I had to send them a serious text on my guidelines for game day. Thought I'd share my rant as I'm sure a lot of you would appreciate it...

'I'll get this rant out of the way...I have been a buff fan as long as I can remember. Since young childhood. One of my most vivid childhood memories was the feeling I had in the basement of my house the day of the Hail Mary against Michigan. Even as a 9 year old, I understood the importance of the game. We were the best team we've had since the title. Arguably more talented. The game had to be won or national title hopes would be dashed. I remember my emotions before the last play. I remember being in tears knowing we were ****ed. I was laying on my stomach, face down. I remember the smell of our living room carpet, the feel of it on my tear soaked cheeks, scared of that sliver of hope in the back of my mind we'd somehow pull it out. Knowing it was too improbable to have hope, and yet unable to let that tiny bit go. Knowing that hope was going to break my heart even more when the ball hit the grass incomplete. Then Westbrook made the catch. I had never experienced the extreme delta of emotion up to that point in my life. At that point I understood what it meant to be a passionate fan of something. Fast forward through the decent success from the late 90s to mid 2000s, having season tickets in college paid with hard farm had work in the summer (and maybe some student loan money). Since the mid 2000s it's been a **** show of epic proportions. But I've loved too much to give up on it. My wife won't stay in the same room during games as me, often not even in the house because of how fired up I get. So this coach Prime unprecedented, miraculous in the truest form of the word, lifeline extended to the program has given me and this program the opportunity to feel that way I did as a child, from tears face down in the carpet, to the elation of victory. That starts next Saturday. So that being said, not to be a ****, but not you guys (who I love and adore), not my wife, not the president of the United States, not the national ****ing guard, is stopping me from getting into that game in a timely matter. So if you want in, you either need to A) be there with me as I walk in at 10:30 am central time, or B) research how to transfer the tickets to your digital prison wallet so you aren't beholden to my timeline. I'd love for you all to walk in with me, but if not, I understand. But I'm not waiting for one more shot, one more cup in beer pong, one more flip cup, look at this squirrel, look at this coed showing her butthole, nothing. So buckle up and have your **** together when the march into the stadium commences.'
"but not you guys (who I love and adore), not my wife"

Good to see you have your priorities straight!
 
I'm making the drive over, and 8 buddies are flying in. We're renting a party bus to the winstar casino on the Oklahoma/Texas border Thursday night, and back, a few events Friday (probably Billy Bob's Friday night), then the game Saturday. Tailgating at 8 am in lot 4. A few of them aren't big CU fans, but are coming for the fun. As a group, we can have too much fun sometimes, so I had to set the tone about the importance of making into the stadium on time, so I had to send them a serious text on my guidelines for game day. Thought I'd share my rant as I'm sure a lot of you would appreciate it...

'I'll get this rant out of the way...I have been a buff fan as long as I can remember. Since young childhood. One of my most vivid childhood memories was the feeling I had in the basement of my house the day of the Hail Mary against Michigan. Even as a 9 year old, I understood the importance of the game. We were the best team we've had since the title. Arguably more talented. The game had to be won or national title hopes would be dashed. I remember my emotions before the last play. I remember being in tears knowing we were ****ed. I was laying on my stomach, face down. I remember the smell of our living room carpet, the feel of it on my tear soaked cheeks, scared of that sliver of hope in the back of my mind we'd somehow pull it out. Knowing it was too improbable to have hope, and yet unable to let that tiny bit go. Knowing that hope was going to break my heart even more when the ball hit the grass incomplete. Then Westbrook made the catch. I had never experienced the extreme delta of emotion up to that point in my life. At that point I understood what it meant to be a passionate fan of something. Fast forward through the decent success from the late 90s to mid 2000s, having season tickets in college paid with hard farm had work in the summer (and maybe some student loan money). Since the mid 2000s it's been a **** show of epic proportions. But I've loved too much to give up on it. My wife won't stay in the same room during games as me, often not even in the house because of how fired up I get. So this coach Prime unprecedented, miraculous in the truest form of the word, lifeline extended to the program has given me and this program the opportunity to feel that way I did as a child, from tears face down in the carpet, to the elation of victory. That starts next Saturday. So that being said, not to be a ****, but not you guys (who I love and adore), not my wife, not the president of the United States, not the national ****ing guard, is stopping me from getting into that game in a timely matter. So if you want in, you either need to A) be there with me as I walk in at 10:30 am central time, or B) research how to transfer the tickets to your digital prison wallet so you aren't beholden to my timeline. I'd love for you all to walk in with me, but if not, I understand. But I'm not waiting for one more shot, one more cup in beer pong, one more flip cup, look at this squirrel, look at this coed showing her butthole, nothing. So buckle up and have your **** together when the march into the stadium commences.'
What your friends are saying amongst each other:

"I really hope the Buffs win or else Big Iron Buff is gonna be insufferable."
 
I fly into DFW Friday, Sept. 1 at around 10 a.m. Staying at a motel by the Stockyards Friday/Saturday night. Fun planned with some local friends at the Stockyards on Friday evening/night (Billy Bob's Texas on the agenda from 8 pm). MEET US? Steaks? Drinks? Let's do it.

Gameday is Buffs Bash and Dallas Forever Buffs gathering/tailgate (starting 8/8:30 am). Let's drink, eat, and be merry!! Section 413, Row F is my seating.

LOOK FOR THE 'OL CU COWBOY HAT 🤠🤠
I'm flying in and out on Saturday
 
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