Here's the history of the Big East from my Syracuse-centric perspective.
About 30 years ago me (Syr) and a bunch of my friends, decided to build this really cool car that we all could share. It was me, three of my techie geek friends (UCONN, Seton Hall, Providence), a buddy who was a body builder on steroids (Gtown), the city kid (St John's) and the preppie (Nova)- we start building. My long time girlfriend (Boston College), who I've been banging for years is making sure we eat well while we're building. So we went over to Providence's house and started building. Word got out that it was going well and my older brother (Pitt) decided he wanted in. We talked about letting the town bully (Penn St) in on the project, but he wanted a gaurantee that he could always ride shotgun, so we said no.
So we build this car and its really really cool. And we are the talk of the town, all the local papers do stories on us. We are on the cover of Time magazine - its great. For years people try to emulate us and we are living the dream. We're so popular that everyone is getting laid (FF appearances) even the geeks(Seton Hall and Providence). The bodybuilder on steroids is actually scaring the crap out of everyone else and banging every supermodel in sight.
So things are good and we suddenly notice others want in on our great ride. So we agree to let a bunch of people come along for the ride including: The superhot model with the cocaine addiction who ends up in rehab every 7 years (Miami); billy bob who is just a good ole boy who likes to drink and thinks cars are cool (WVU), the hanger on wanna-be chick who just wants to use us to be popular (Va Tech) and the town slut that we all use when we're hard up and lonely (Rutgers). Then there's this one chick we're all trying to bang. She flirts with all of us, hangs out when she's got nothing better to do, but its clearly we're always her plan B and no one can ever bang her (ND).
Its going fine, but its clear that we're kind of a dysfunctional family. The hot model gets us a lot of attention, but ends up back in rehab; one of the geeky preppy kids grows into a pretty valuable and smart asset to the group (UCONN). But it becomes clear that not everyone is pulling their weight. Some of the geeks can't keep up with the rest of the crew, the slut is nothing but deadweight who drinks our beer, snorts our coke and always has to be dragged out of the parties before she embarasses us. At one point we decide some of us might want to build another car and go it alone. The problem is, Providence has all the blueprints in his dad's garage and claimes "I lost them".
So one night in 2004 we're all sitting around and someone notice's that theres an invitation half hidden on my table to a really cool party. It's being thrown by the owner of Mercedes Benz (Swofford) and he wants our car to add to his fleet. Problem is- only me, my girlfriend and the superhot chick with the cocaine addiction are invited. Its a sore spot with everyone and they ask us if we're going to go and we admit we want to go and we're probably going to take the car with us.
So on the way to the party, the craziest thing happens. The Benz owner is heading out on a beer run and he loses control of his car and he t-bones us on the driver's side. Its a mess, I'm bleeding badly in the driver's seat and am unconscious. Swofford walks up to the car and flashes an eight ball and lures the superhot model with the cocainne addiction into the car. My girlfriend, who has been with me forever, sees that the car is a mess and probably unfixable, and decides the Benz is a much better ride, so she gets in with Swofford and doesn't bother to call 9-1-1. When she gets in the car, she realizes the reason why Swofford lost control of the car is because the wanna be popular chick (Va tech) had snuck out and was giving Sowffy a hummer as he was driving down the road. They all leave the scene thinking that me and the car are both dead.
About an hour later I wake up and I'm surrounded by all my friends who heard the crash and came running. They are PISSED. Its a crazy night, UCONN is so mad at what happened that he goes to the party, walks in, drops trow and pisses in the punch bowl in front of everyone. But everyone is pointing and laughing at UCONN and pelt him with chik-fil-a nuggets. I mend wounds with the group and they forgive me.
Now we're all working to save the car and our source of popularity. We get some bondo and cloth seat covers (Lville and Cincy) and fix up the car. We don't have a hot supermodel, but we get a chick with fake tits and some bad botox work from the same neighborhood (USF) and we put her in front seat for everyone to see (from afar).
At this point, the car has 200,000 miles on it, some dings on it, but the engine still runs strong and it has its moments. But our mechanic says its only a matter to time before it dies. Again, we talk about getting some new parts to rebuild the car or two try a new model, but Providence keeps giving us the "dog ate my homework" type of excuses everytime we ask about the blueprints because he thinks all the cool kids are going to leave him and some of the others behind.
Amid rumors that everyone is trying to jump ship, my brother and I end up making a call to Swofford, to see if he's still interested in hanging out with us.
...and that's where we are today.
