2-minute read

Dr. Freud could have paid off his Vienna office with one Tennessee wide-receiver thread. These adult men came to discuss getting Mike Matthews the football and, within minutes, were admiring his build, studying how he moved and imagining what they could do with him in space. Somewhere between the route tree and the third replay, the scouting report needed a discreet brown wrapper.

VolFanJett opened with “He’s so good.” Fair enough. Then indyssoe compared Matthews to Ohio State receiver Jeremiah Smith and specified “(build and the way he moves),” lest anybody mistake this for a discussion confined to receiving yards. He followed with “We need to get the ball in his hands as much as possible.” 007Vol wanted more: “Double end around with him would be fun to see.” Watching Mike Matthews stalk-block a defensive back, 007Vol rubbed his hands together so hard the friction nearly started a fire. Freud would have asked everybody to stop drawing on the whiteboard until he found a second notebook.

All this longing required a chaperone. Heupel had been elected chairman of the Cold Shower Committee. Volfan23 answered the call, “Unfortunately we are wasting his talent.” Hopes03 demanded, “Get your biggest, fastest players the ball any way possible,” then proposed putting Matthews in the backfield. The thread had progressed from admiration to planning where the young man should stand. Grown men were already picking out the sectional for their life with Matthews. Somewhere, George and Tammy were singing “Golden Ring,” and Heupel was getting blamed for a divorce before anybody had moved in.

Then Eyes4Vols revealed what the arrangement was supposed to accomplish: “We need Matthews and Staley to get every ball GMac gets near them so we don’t have a QB controversy.” Every ball he gets near them. Catch it, dive for it, retrieve it from the fucking concession stand. The receivers had been promoted to custodians of quarterback innocence. A completion would demonstrate GMac’s gifts; anything landing somewhere in Knox County would become a test of whether his teammates loved him enough. DavyVol tried, “Some of you need to relax.” That landed about as well as “that’s my wife” on a man asking for a wallet-size copy of her beach photo.

By supper, the Message Board had designed the offense for Matthews’ body type, selected his quarterback and explained his feelings. Everybody knew what he needed. Everybody could see he was frustrated. Everybody would treat him better if only Heupel would let them. All that remained was to get the ball into his hands and find out whether he felt the same way. Freud could have offered a diagnosis, but first he’d have had to explain how many All-SEC wide receivers he’d coached.

These are real public message-board discussions held by real Tennessee fans. Quoted comments and usernames come from the supplied recording; the surrounding narrative is satire.