Too much of the offseason has been the Butch Davis grimace of impropriety; now we can replace it with the screaming and gesturing at football being played. Just, you know, without being entirely sure who's going to take the field.
Screw it; I ran fifteen miles through West Virginia today. The least Carolina can do is win a chicken-sponsored football game. Drink every time you see those creepy, sub-literate cows and enjoy the game.