Luv Doc Recommends: BCS National Championship at Alamo Ritz

Austin is a pretty cool town. Thankfully, it's not too cool for football. Austinites will dork out for a Longhorn game every bit as much as they will for a Buttnumbathon, a Makers Faire, or an Eeyore's. Admittedly, Longhorn fans are by far a scarier brand of dork than you will find at most other Austin events. Not only are they usually amped up on adrenaline and testosterone, they're often holding back some serious pent-up rage, mainly the residual effect of watching four hours of Greg Davis' offensive coordinating. Dear, sweet, merciful Jesus, for once could you please tell Mr. Davis to just let the big dogs eat? This three-yards-and-a-cloud-of-dust shit may be taking its toll on the opposing defense, but it's even more exhausting for the fans. Who knows how many aneurysms, broken TV screens, and cases of domestic violence were the result of the 2009 Big 12 Championship game? Sure, the final one second was exciting, but the rest of it was like spending an afternoon at the Department of Motor Vehicles. At least Nebraska fans got the vicarious thrill of watching Ndamukong Suh toss the Texas offensive line around like a bunch of rag dolls. The only thing missing was the eponymous Johnny Cash song as background music. Don't worry, ABC will surely queue that up at some point in the BCS pregame show. Still, regardless of all the bitching (or perhaps in spite of it) big Greg's offense put up just enough points to get the Longhorns to the dance once again. Years from now in the historically embellished retelling of the glorious 2009 season, it will be the golden toe of Hunter Lawrence that gets all the glory. And tiny Hunter slew the Goliath Ndamukong with the graceful sweep of his European-soccer-style kick, and the fans burst onto the field and did hoist him upon their shoulders and laud his name. The real story however, took place up in the lonely press box high above the field, where ol' Greg Davis took off his headset, leaned back in his chair, and as is his custom, said a little prayer of thanks to the Lord for letting him feed off the entrails of Will Muschamp's defense once again. So, what does all this have to do with you tapping some strange? Next to nothing. Regardless of how it's portrayed on gay porn sites, football is mostly a sexless endeavor. Those well oiled, accidental, post-steam-bath, locker-room three-ways involving the tight end, punter, and fullback never really happen … unless they actually take place on a porn film set. This is not to say that you can't get as lucky as Hunter Lawrence and the Longhorns at a football game. Au contraire. In Texas, football is as legitimate a foreplay technique as beaver slapping and tonsil hockey and, ultimately, equally successful. Plus, like sex, you don't need to know much about football to enjoy it. You just need to be enthusiastic and get your game face on. If you're one of those few remaining hermits or foreigners who hasn't decided whether football is for you, a good way to test it out is at the Alamo Drafthouse at the Ritz, where Thursday night it will be shoring the BCS National Championship on the big screen … for free! The theatre should be full of Longhorn fans, but you can reserve a seat by purchasing a $5 food and drink voucher online. With so many people wearing such an ugly shade of orange, you should be able to talk someone out of their clothes. Hey, the Longhorns got lucky. Maybe you can too.