Too big for your britches. Britches are important in the overall scheme of things, unless of course, you're a nudist. Britches contain us and keep our junk safe...or at least that's what they're designed to do (let the gifs roll). Every now and then, you'll spot somebody at Walmart who is literally "too big for their britches." But the phrase could also be loosely defined as "somebody who has an inflated opinion of themselves or their importance in a situation". The internet's Urban Dictionary (and why would I use anything else?) defines it thus: "an adjective phrase meaning that your assumed position is slightly larger than the actual position you belong in".
The earliest known use of the phrase is by the real Davey Crockett, a Tennesseean of the early 1800's who coined the phrase through an observation of fellow SEC frontiersman, Andrew Jackson, the eventual seventh president of the United States. Jackson was known for a hot temper and quick inclination to challenge insults by "dueling", and was known to have killed a number of his critics by that means, reportedly enjoying the sport. That Jackson was an ornery old cuss is well known, and if Buckeye fans needed any more incentive to dislike him and his SEC-ness, he was mean to slaves and killed fairly friendly Indians (the northern Creeks, who didn't want their land stolen) in the Battle of the Horseshoe (at Horseshoe Bend in Alabama circa 1814). So hate away, Buckeyes.
Crockett fought alongside Jackson for a long time, and what had started as friendship, turned to a despising of his arrogance and cruelty, leading to this assessment of the man:
"I myself was one of the first to fire a gun under Andrew Jackson. I helped to give him all his glory. But I liked him well once: but when a man gets too big for his breeches, I say Good bye."
And so the phrase was born. It is certainly an appropriate phrase to describe some of the over-inflated individuals and entities in the sports world today. Who specifically?
1. The NCAA. Its britches were already large enough at birth in 1906 as the mission was to protect young athletes from dangerous practices at the time. If it had kept those particular drawers on and focused on safety concerns, it wouldn't have ballooned into the circus fat lady it has become. The NCAA has been overfed for years, and because of the perception that it is all-powerful, tried to take a page out of Saddam Hussein's playbook, and play dictator instead. That tactic served Saddam well for a while, but culminated at the looped end of a rope. The NCAA is living in the shadow of the gallows as well, and with the continued bungling of so many investigations and the uneven application of arbitrary punishments, it resembles not so much a governing body as it does a not-so-funny version of the Keystone Kops. The future is a noose for the NCAA if it cannot trim some of the fat in its trousers.
2. Nick Saban, and by extension the entire SEC. That the SEC is an inflated, arrogant southern sack of carbon dioxide is evident. It may be the current King of the Hill in football, yet even they know the sport runs in cycles. But Saban, as the face of the SEC, has a pair of bloomers he is busting out of. Sure, a few national championships will inflate the ego of most any coach, and he has shown a consistency that should be applauded. But when he becomes "concerned" about "player safety" and fearful that offensive speed will somehow harm the big uglies on defense, he's not blowing smoke, he's just blowing. There is no evidence of such nonsense, and to think that the "Speed Conference" is afraid of this villain called Speed is both ironic and laughable.
But specifically, Mr. Saban, to presume that you can affect the fundamental purpose of the game (to win by outwitting or outplaying your opponent, and which includes playing at a faster pace if it achieves that purpose) by citing "player safety concerns"...there just are not any words that would adequately convey the complete and utter absurdity of such assheaded, sphincter-induced nonsense. You really do need a therapeutic Buckeye-delivered ass kicking to be brought back to the reality that even your mini reign of terror has an end. Yes, too big for your britches right now, but we'll be presenting you with a smaller, more appropriate garment in the near future (purchased on Ebay from one of the Oz Munchkins).
3. Will Muschamp and Gator Nation. For someone who hasn't exactly shown "100% responsibility for his players", and has broken more than his share of rules, Muschump is hardly in a position to be lecturing "Ohio" about forwarding a report to the compliance people. His britches, made of freshly deceased alligator skin, are the type that tighten as they dry, and cannot be taken off without serious bodily injury to the wearer (just ask Urban). This over-inflated ass hat is simply a sad echo of Gator Nation and its prolapsed internal stage four hemorrhoid of a meltdown over the man who brought them two national championships and numerous SEC crowns. There simply is no ointment that will soothe and cool the swollen, throbbing hinder parts of their butt hurt.
4. And then we have the britches of Mark May, which he shares with a few of his pundit friends. His hot pink personal wear were already three sizes too tight when he stole them from the drunken street whore who lives in his old house at 72-0 Panther Pantie Way in Hazbin, PA. And if not for the telltale butt flap, they would certainly resemble, as has been widely reported...women's underwear. Mark is a special case, and believes he has the responsibility, despite his own shameful antics of the past, to deliver orations on "bringing shame to the game" to present day athletes. Unfortunately, he picked a fight with somebody a lot bigger than he is, and did so for the sake of pageviews and ratings. Too big for your britches, indeed, Mark. Buckeye success will not only exacerbate your pain, it will provide hours of entertainment for Buckeyes everywherre.
My hope is that once the Crystal Ball rests in Columbus, Ohio, Buckeye Nation is a gracious and elegant king in the new era of Urban renewal...
And of course, one cannot mention Davey Crockett in literature without springing this eternal bit of wit...that Davey Crockett had three ears. A left ear, a right ear, and a wild front ear.
He was, after all, the KING of the Wild Front Ear.
Have a great day, and Go Bucks!
and on that note...<poof>