NCAA - Not Cool At All

Hey, it's Andy here, Mark is on the plane for Minnesota, so he wanted me to come on here and clarify some things.

-THERE WAS NO CEASE AND DESIST FROM THE NCAA, NOR WAS THE NCAA INVOLVED IN ANY WAY. This has been reported inaccurately today by The Big Lead (who later changed what they said) and SI's Campus Clicks (who has not changed what they are saying). The bylaw Mark put down is fictitious and was added for humor, not fact. Bylaw 34.4.3? Mark Titus, #34, for 3. A joke. The NCAA? Aside from the title, they were never a part of it. Mark was told to remove the merchandise counter as a PRECAUTION, not as a CEASE AND DESIST in any kind of way.

-Mark is not selling any t-shirts, getting any money from their sales, or anything associated with that. It's very disappointing to see SI's "On Campus" homepage have the blurb "OSU backup busted" in the lead for you to go to the Campus Clicks. It's even more disappointing to see completely untrue reporting passed off as fact like "he's even sold merchandise on the site. Unfortunately, the NCAA got word of his profitable business, and he was slapped with a cease and desist notice. Well, back to bench warming." As I stated, that is simply not true about both the merchandise, as well as the NCAA being involved in any way, shape, or form. The bench warming? Okay, we'll give you that. They even link to the blog where he explicitly explains how he did neither of those!

When Mark gets to Minneapolis, he might come on and edit some of this. Until then, I'm calling on the Trillion Man March to flood SI's Campus Clicks Mailbag, and any other kind of e-mail place on SI's website, and kindly demand that they remove what they said about Mark having any sort of NCAA violation and promptly apologize. Even better would be to find Nicki Jhabvala's e-mail address (she's the one that wrote the Campus Clicks) and send the messages directly to her.

After that, you guys should all check out a quality piece done on Mark today by the Minneapolis Star-Tribune. Now, back to the real reason you're here...

I'm sure that of the millions of people who read this thing on a daily basis, at least a few of you are in your adolescent years, caught somewhere in between trading Pokemon cards and getting cut from your high school JV team (Just kidding, guys. If you can dream it, you can achieve it!). It's people like you who understand what I am dealing with at this juncture in my life. You are thoroughbreds confined to a stable, born to run wild yet chained down by the tyranny of mom and dad (4 srs tho, y r parents soooo lame?). And I feel your pain. Just like your parents are destroying your social life by making you clean your room before calling that hot girl in math class, the NCAA is putting shackles on my creative mind with their totalitarian rules.

I was informed through our compliance office that I can no longer do the Club Trillion merchandise counter, because I am essentially promoting a business that is (potentially) making profit from my name. Even though I see none of the profits (if there are any), it still violates NCAA bylaw 34.4.3 which states "No walk-on is permitted to ever have a legitimate fan base. Fan bases are to be reserved for those players who are either superstars or have a last name that rhymes with a word that represents a group of people, such as Hoke's Folks or Bass' Masses [citation needed]." Naturally, I am a little bit upset about this decision. However, I have made a living (not really, I just kind of like that phrase) off of finding loopholes, so I'm sure I'll find a way to make something work out. Maybe if I get Dale to send the NCAA a t-shirt they will let it slide, but the chances of that happening are more astronomical than Trace Adkins' electric bill.

The ironic thing (other than the fact I have no idea how to properly use the word "irony") is that I have seriously considered working for the NCAA after graduation. I actually have some connections within the NCAA that I have been bugging about getting an internship. Nonetheless, the organization these people work for have cracked down on my operation and have forced me to become more creative. Sure all they did was make me stop promoting t-shirt sales, but that will eventually lead to them telling me I can't avoid paying taxes anymore and that I can't do business with Cuba. As a marketing major, it's in my blood to promote things, especially if I can please The Trillion Man March in the process. But in this case, it looks like I will be forced to take a step back. I know I vowed to count the Club Trillion merchandise, but as it turns out, that promise I made was in vain, in vain, in vain. I trust you understand what I am up against.
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Bone-Crushing Screens: 1 to date (0 last game)
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Your awesome YouTube video was sent in by Adam R. There's your shout-out Adam. And here's your video:



Here is the same video as a link, for all you iPhone users out there.

Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

There are a few truths in this world that can never, under any circumstances, be proven wrong. George Strait just doesn't make bad music. Walter Sobchack from "The Big Lebowski" is the greatest character in the history of cinema. Any time a CD skips at any party in America, at least one person will yell "Remix!" (It's funny cause it's true.) The most significant truth in my life, though, is that I have a unique ability to annoy my teammates using nothing more than Facebook and The Trillion Man March.

I'm calling a ceasefire on the Facebook prank I initiated last week on Danny. I originially said I was going to stop when he activated his wall, but I achieved a better outcome in less than five minutes. You see, immediately after publishing my last post, Danny got online and started reading what I wrote. Since I knew he was about to get served, I left the hotel room so I wouldn't start laughing and give away the surprise. I proceeded to walk down by the elevators in the hotel, which were about 30 or 40 yards away from our room. In a matter of minutes I heard (through the door and down the hall, mind you) a bellowing "NOOOOOO!" come from our room. When I returned, Danny had fire in his eyes and murder on his mind. No less than an hour earlier, Kyle, Danny, and I were discussing what I would have to do to make either of them want to fight me. They both claimed that it would be virtually impossible for me to do anything worthy of engaging in fisticuffs. At least one of them is wrong.

Since the whole Facebook thing has run its course, I'm going to find a new way to conduct my pranks. Truth be told, I was kind of lazy and didn't feel like pulling any pranks on my own, so I pawned my responsibilities off to The Trillion Man March and asked for your help on Facebook. I have some pretty solid ideas lined up that will take a little while to develop, but promise to be a riot once they are put in place. However, which idea I end up using is currently a bigger mystery than the role the woman in this video plays.

As far as more directly related matters, we got assassinated by West Virginia yesterday, which ended up being the worst Ohio State loss in Value City Arena history. We pretty much played like donkeys the entire game and I had a front row seat to the bloodbath. To make matters worse, I forgot to put on deodorant. This is a much more serious issue than you originally think. The gym was hotter than the tension that arises when Erin Andrews and I lock eyes, which made my pits smell like a cat that's been dead for a week or, more accurately, Jason Alexander. Also, I was hungry (I would say my hunger level was equivalent to that of the wolf) and the guy sitting behind me had to have been Joey Chestnut, cause he downed at least three nachos, a pizza, and a T-Bone steak cooked medium well. I was having flashbacks to junior high, when I would seemingly always forget to bring my lunch money on Chick-fil-A Day. Simply put, I'm ready to forget about the horrors associated with the West Virginia game.

Finally, I have been getting e-mails with questions surrounding what happened with Anthony "Noopy" Crater. For those who don't know, Noopy decided today to be released from his scholarship and transfer to another school. I personally have no idea why he chose to leave, but my best guess is that my decision to constantly blast country music in the weight room had something to do with it. I honestly know as much as you and even if I knew more, I'm not at liberty to elaborate beyond what I have already discussed.

Finally (Part II), I promised to inform The Trillion Man March every time I dotted a new victim. Today I dotted Nikola Kecman from the left corner on a shot that was as smooth as you are probably imagining it to be.
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Bone-Crushing Screens: 1 to date (0 last game)



Here is the same video as a link, for all you iPhone users out there.

Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

Christmas In Columbus

Christmas was yesterday, but was celebrated by the Titus family on Christmas Eve because being a college basketball player is synonymous with never celebrating holidays on the days they are intended to be celebrated. Christmas provided me with an opportunity of partaking in my favorite holiday tradition of tagging "ya filthy animal" on the end of every "Merry Christmas" I dished out. I realize that this annoyed a few people, but I refuse to apologize for re-enacting the greatest scene from either of the two "Home Alone" movies verbatim. I am fully aware that there were three "Home Alone" movies (NOTE: I have since been informed there are four "Home Alone" movies. When will it ever end?), but I treat "Home Alone 3" like "The Godfather: Part III"--I refuse to admit it ever happened.

We practiced on Christmas Eve from 9 p.m. to about 11:30 p.m. We practiced on Christmas from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m. There is no joke in this paragraph. I have sat here for an hour trying to think of a way to make the fact that we practiced for about 4 hours on Christmas funny, and I just can't do it. Let's collectively put this behind us and move on to the next paragraph.

We are currently staying in The Blackwell, an on campus hotel, in preparation for our game tomorrow against West Virginia. Kyle, Danny, and I are following our usual night before game routine of hanging out in our room, watching TV, and discussing whether or not we could individually drink a gallon of milk in an hour. Danny and I always get pizza and I always make Danny order because calling a pizza place is a top five phobia of mine. The rest of the top five phobias (in order) are dogophobia (fear of dogs), heightsaphobia (fear of heights), losingmyredoinkulouslywetjumpshotphobia (fear of losing my redoinkulously wet jumpshot), and chipotlegoingoutofbusinessphobia (fear of Chipotle going out of business). I really can't explain why I have a fear of calling pizza places, nor do I have any idea how I developed it. Whatever the case, I am very adamant about never calling a pizza place, even if the terms of my phobia make as much sense as playing a keyboard that is attached to a wall.

Because Evan Turner was "salty main" for the pranks I pulled on him, I made the decision to move on to a new target. And because Danny frequently claims that The Trillion Man March hates him, I think he would be perfect for the next series of pranks. So here's the deal. I loved the idea we used on Evan last time of sending him Facebook messages and then ultimately sending him down the road to insanity. I loved it so much that I think we need to do a similar thing to Danny, but with twist. Since Danny reads the blog (Hi Danny!), the notion of sending him messages until he notices is out the window. However, Danny doesn't have his Facebook wall activated, even though he is pretty much constantly on Facebook (he is on as I am writing this entry). I'm thinking for our next project, we need to send Danny messages on Facebook telling him to reactivate his wall and refuse to quit until he activates it. Evan got over 300 messages, so I'm expecting Danny to get at least that. Because his wall is deactivated, the only way to communicate with Danny is sending him a message, which means the legitimate messages will get lost in the shuffle of messages from The Trillion Man March. I'll give a segment from his bio on the team's website for everyone to copy into a message. This way we can be united in our quest for Danny to activate his wall and be accessible to The Trillion Man March. I love mischief.
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Bone-Crushing Screens: 1 to date (1 last game)
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Danny Peters Biography Segment:

"Recorded his first career steal against Iowa (1/9/08)."

Copy and paste that line and send it to Danny's Facebook. I apologize for every prank involving Facebook, but I can't think of any other way to allow The Trillion Man March to participate. Any suggestions are welcome.




Here is the same video as a link, for all you iPhone users out there.

Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

Stealing Your Heart

Maybe I should have made myself a little clearer. As you surely know, I got a steal last night in our game against UNC-Asheville. What you probably didn't know is that Coach Matta expects me to at least look like I'm trying when I'm out there playing. Anybody can get a trillion by sitting in the corner and sucking on their thumb while the other nine guys duke it out. It takes a man to get a trillion while playing hard. Hopefully all the naysayers who claimed that getting a trillion is easy are starting to realize that when going about it properly, a trillion is a very hard thing to acheive. If I were to get a trillion by not playing hard, I run the risk of being labled as the biggest cheater since Rolando Paulino. And nobody wants that.

Think about this. You are at a party and there are only two girls there (ladies, make your own necessary adjustments to this scenario). The first girl, who has slept with the entire starting offense, has hammered home a six pack of brewskis, crushed each of the six cans on her head, and has since passed out in the bathroom wearing nothing but her undergarments (no, this isn't a personal experience--just a hypothetical). The other girl has sat in the corner all night, clenching her Bible and drinking water, and is going to leave within ten minutes because even though she is now in college, her parents told her that her curfew is 10 p.m. and she doesn't want to upset them. You could surely put in minimal effort and take advantage of the plastered girl in the bathroom, but you would ultimately feel much better about yourself if you pursued the girl who apologizes for saying "crap." That's what getting a trillion is like. I could take the easy way out, but I would feel dirtier than if I was within arm's length of Amy Winehouse. That's why I chose the much more difficult approach and actually put forth effort. My conscious will thank me for it later.

For those of you who didn't watch the game, yours truly got booed so badly after my steal that I swore for a second I pushed a little kid over to get my hands on a t-shirt during the t-shirt toss. The boos were undoubtedly the most awesomely over-dramatic display I have ever seen since this. Truth be told, I was kind of booing myself as the play was happening. In the end, though, I'd rather hear the boos from the fans than hear my teammates castigate me for not being able to make a fairly easy play.

Apparently, I needed to make another thing a little bit clearer. In a previous post, I called Samford the "Harvard of the West." This disappointed at least 25 readers to the point that they felt like sending me an e-mail calling my intelligence into question. For the record, I scored a 2000 on my SAT. And that was on the old version. Anyway, for all of you who called me out, I thank you, but I am fully aware of the difference between Samford and Stanford, just like I was fully aware of the difference between Iona and Iowa. I have been serious with about 4% of this blog, so unless otherwise stated, nothing I say has any merit whatsoever. Including the previous sentence about 4% of the blog being serious. Wrap your mind around that for a second.

Finally, I want to give Kyle Madsen AMPAP (as much props as possible). Kyle started yesterday, making him the first and only person with Club Trillion ties to do such a thing, and played pretty well. Kyle is our ambassador and gives hope to people like me who have always thought that being a member of Club Trillion means I'll always be a nobody. Kyle's start, the fact that my baby picture was used for the baby picture trivia game, and me being called "genius" by the emcee of the timeout entertainment crew made for an overall pretty solid day for Club Trillion.
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I laid two of the most illegal screens anybody will ever see, prompting Ted Valentine to tell me to "cut it out." Only one of the screens connected, while the other was me kind of tripping the guy, even though he didn't fall.

Bone-Crushing Screens: 1 to date (1 last game)
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Evan Turner figured out within an hour what was going on and blew the whistle on the prank. Still, he told me he got over 300 messages, so I think we ultimately won. Good work. I'm thinking I've harassed Evan enough and I'll move onto a new target soon. More to come on this in later posts.



Here is the same video as a link, for all you iPhone users out there.

Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

Do You Own A College?

Keller did a fine job of writing yesterday, but I know that you missed me and I couldn't let you go on wondering what I'm up to any longer. (Keller also did a fine job buying me a Club Trillion t-shirt for Christmas from Dale. I'm thinking I might wear it as a shooting shirt for the rest of the games.) Anyway, here's what's happened in my life the last couple days.

We played the Iona Gaels yesterday and won in a fashion that had the entire crowd on pins and needles wondering whether Club Trillion was going to make it happen. For those who missed it, I didn't make it happen, unless "it" is referring to winning every scoreboard game the OSU promotions people put on during the timeouts. I used the momentum I had from dominating the basketball shuffle game, which was just a version of that "follow the hat with the ball under it" game, and took it into the "Moments In History" trivia. Yesterday's "Moments In History" proved to be the toughest one all season, as the answer was 1925, or 62 years before I was born. I still managed to get the right answer. Naturally, I was a little excited.

Playing Iona provided me with an opportunity to stuff a completely stupid joke down the entire team's collective throat. When we played Tennessee last year, I had at least three people want to kill me by the end of the trip for my refusal to quit saying, "Did you guys hear Bruce Pearl and his staff don't get paid? Apparently they are all Volunteers!" Of course, I topped off the joke each time I told it with an exaggerated laugh, because nothing is more annoying than hearing someone laugh at their own jokes. In a similar manner as the Tennessee game, I asked a majority of the team, "Do you own a college?" As they were trying to figure it out where I was going with it, I would drop the hammer and say "Cause Iona College!" and then laugh hysterically, for no other purpose than to be annoying. Sometimes I wonder what it's like to have to put up with me on a daily basis. Good thing I'll never have to find out.

As all the Ohio State fans know, and I'm sure fans of all the other Big Ten schools will love to hear, our captain David Lighty broke his foot playing kickball. I may have just made that up, but I'm one for the dramatic and for a guy to break his foot by "just kind of coming down on it funny" is unacceptable. That's why if anyone asks me how he did it, I'm saying he took our casual game of kickball a little too seriously and slid into second base too hard, rolling his ankle and breaking a bone in his foot in the process. (There wasn't even anyone covering the bag, Dave. I appreciate the hustle, but we don't even keep score. Use better judgment next time.) We talked about how we wanted to win the game for Dave and Dave totally missed the opportunity to drop the "Coach, I'm hurt. I ain't dead" line that Gary did in the hospital scene of "Remember The Titans." I'm not sure if a broken foot or missing out on a perfect opportunity to make a completely applicable "Remember The Titans" reference would hurt more. My gut is telling me the latter.

While I'm on the topic of jabbing at my teammates, I thought I would address the Evan Turner situation that I wrote about in my last post. In case you're too lazy to click the link, I discussed how Evan's girlfriend told him about the previous prank I was pulling on him. I then went on to discuss how no women can keep secrets and how their refusal to remain hush is one of life's greatest mysteries (another of life's mysteries is why seemingly every professional wrestler looks like the late '80s version of Bono). Anyway, I asked for suggestions of an ongoing prank I could pull and I ended up getting about ten e-mails addressing this. My favorite was from John in Cleveland who is an "occasional affliction t-shirt wearer." His words, not mine. John wrote:

"I think you should text and write little notes to evan turner using strictly john mayer and maroon 5 lyrics...maybe even throw in some no doubt if youre feeling good...these are all of course per his facebook musicial interests...ideally you want to write mostly letters...hopefully one of your girl friends can help write them for you...you pick out the lyrics of course...just a suggestion"

Love the idea, but I'm going to make a little twist to it. Instead of me writing him stuff, I'm calling on The Trillion Man March to write for me. I'm going to give you the "John Mayer Lyric For Evan" at the end of each post, and I want everyone reading this to send Evan a Facebook message with nothing but the lyric. Imagine getting 1,000 Facebook messages from people that say the exact same thing. I think it's a fitting way to get him back for his girlfriend ruining my last project. Anyway, I'll maintain this prank until he knows what's going on or (and this is my most desirable scenario) he deletes his Facebook. This has the potential to be one of the coolest things I ever orchestrate, but I need your help. Don't miss out on all the fun.

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I'm reinstating the Bone-Crushing Screen counter, due to popular demand.

Bone-Crushing Screens: 0 to date (0 last game)
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As promised, here's the John Mayer Lyric For Evan Turner:

Tell me what I did. I can't find where the moment went wrong at all.

If you must know, it's from the song "Come Back To Bed." Here is Evan's Facebook. Remember to send the lyric and the lyric alone. Make it happen.



Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

An Educated Guest

When I started the blog, I promised Keller that if I ever got to 100,000 page views, I would let him write a guest blog. I was sure that it would never happen so I wasn't worried in the slightest. Last night, it happened. So, here's what Keller had to say. Let me preface it by saying I'm not nearly as desperate for some TLC as he makes me out to be. Don't get me wrong, I'm still crazy desperate. But not as bad as what he claims. I hope you're happy, Keller...

When we were seniors in high school, Mark found it quite amusing to tell me he thought my sister - a freshman - was hot. He would ask me if I would get mad if he hooked up with her (it's cool ladies, she was old for her grade) and in a moment of stupidity and naivety I told him that if Ashley would go for him, I wouldn't be mad. To be honest, I thought she still played with baby dolls. Imagine my fear when she would start getting awfully hungry and coming downstairs at 2 a.m. to get a snack in short shorts and a tank top any time Mark would spend the night. After that, I always made sure he fell asleep before I did, just in case.

I can only guess that worried feeling is what Mark must be feeling right now. I could write a number of things that would be embarrassing to him or painfully off topic, but breathe easy Mark, because I won't. I have one specific thing that I want to address. No, it is not my undying hatred for Danny Peters - I will address that myself when I come to Columbus next week. No, I'm not going to talk about how sweet my CLUB TRIL t-shirt is, because you should find out for yourself. And no, I'm not going to write three paragraphs on how Mark's claim that I couldn't knock down the open J is false (I will say, though, that I was lethal from under 4 feet and over 23 feet. Everything in between was my downfall, along with the fact that 6'1" shot blockers were not en vogue after freshman year in high school). Instead, I'm going to write about the most important thing surrounding Mark Titus and Club Trillion at this moment - getting Mark Titus a girlfriend.

If you are one of the 200 or so people that has added Mark on Facebook in the past few days, you have surely seen that he is single. And if you are one of the 100,000 people who has read Club Trillion in the past few days, you have seen that he is awesome. One of these things has to change, and since I don't see him being less awesome any time soon, I think we should make a run at this girlfriend part. My ultimate goal would be for Mark to find a girl who likes him solely based on his celebrity status and stubblebeard. The beautiful thing about this plan is that it requires no building up of Mark on my part, so I won't have to lie. If Josh McRoberts can date Lauren Conrad, just think about who Mark can get. Actually, don't just think about who Mark can get, leave your celebrity girlfriend suggestions in the comments.

Ladies, if you are interested in getting to know Mark Titus a little bit better, send him an email at ClubTrillion@gmail.com. Include your name, a phone number/Facebook link, picture if you think you are a babe, and a paragraph or two on why you think you deserve to hold hands with Mark Titus (think of it like a scholarship essay, only instead of $100 from your local Kiwanis, you get 6'4" and 210 pounds of sexy). A location near Columbus is a definite plus. Guys, if you have a sister/cousin/girlfriend/mother that you would like to submit, don't hesitate. Ashley Keller, if you would like to submit yourself, stop it. I'm telling mom. And put a sweatshirt on.

In the same vein that Mark loves basketball, I love professional wrestling. Give this blog enough time, and Mark will talk about our spring break trip to Wrestlemania 22, dressing up as The Rockers for Halloween senior year, or yelling "WOOOOOOOOOO!!!" like Ric Flair enough times to make us lose our voices. Until then, I'll just end this blog with a wrestling YouTube clip. I look forward to your emails and I'll see you at 200,000 views.

Andy Keller

Knock, Knock, Knocking on Evan's Door

Unfortunately I have some bad news that is sure to upset at least four of you. Evan Turner has finally found out about my stealing his Facebook statuses (or is it stati?). He approached me at practice today and told me that his girlfriend, main squeeze, boo, or "old girl" told him about it. I don't exactly understand the difference between the four of those but he seems to, and ultimately that's all that matters. I'm currently thinking of a new ongoing activity I can participate in that follows a similar format of "see how long until (blank) notices." My initial idea was to grow out a mustache and see how long it would take until Coach Matta noticed, but I have since abandoned that idea for a variety of reasons, none of which include me being embarrassed to have a mustache. I actually plan on joining Brad Pitt's campaign to bring the mustache back in style once the season is over. I'm sure there will be many more entries documenting my awesome stache in the off-season. Until then, feel free to e-mail me with any suggestions. If I receive a good one, I'll do it. Especially if you double dog dare me to.

Overall, I'm pretty disappointed in how Evan discovered I was stealing his status. I was hoping he would find out by reading this blog or by looking at my Facebook, but his boo (this is my favorite description of a significant other, mostly because I used to serenade my high school girlfriend on a daily basis with this) squealed. I really shouldn't be surprised, because if there is one universal truth about women, it's that they are terrible at keeping secrets. If there is another universal truth about women, it's that they will always wait to try and open the car door at the exact moment I hit the "Door Unlock" button on my keys, thus preventing their door from unlocking. Fellas, amirite?

I think I'm subconsciously putting down women in hopes that they will flood my inbox with hate mail. I am convinced that the ladies don't read this blog, and I really find it troubling. Hopefully the female readers (especially the single ones) will e-mail me and prove me wrong, which would be more surprising than the lofty GPA B.J. Mullens had this quarter. The ball is in your court, ladies.

Finally, I want to address something that many people have questioned, which is the origins of the concept of the trillion. I have received claims that Basketbawful first conceived the concept of the trillion, as well as e-mails that legendary 76ers statistician Harvey Pollack conceived it. To be honest, they both probably did, but I was unaware of either of them doing so when Club Trillion was founded. Club Trillion devised our idea separately and any similarities are purely coincidental. Perhaps I should give credit where it's due, but I refuse to apologize for anything until Foot Locker apologizes to America for their terrible marketing campaign consisting of NBA stars telling mediocre stories about their respective childhoods. Hopefully any animosity concerning this issue will dissolve and Club Trillion can get back to focusing on slapping boards in warm-ups and looking good on the bench.
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I'm doing away with the Bone-Crushing Screen counter, with the sole reason being I have played a total of one minute this year, making it hard for me to set any screens.
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Here's your awesome YouTube clip, which also happens to be one of my favorite commercials of all time.



Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

A Glimpse of Sincerity

Wow. Words can't express how overwhelmed I am right now. Actually they can and they will throughout the remainder of this entry. But you get the idea. As you probably know by now, I was on The B.S. Report, which apparently has a large audience consisting of people who will do whatever Simmons tells them. I was more nervous than anything in my life, mostly because the only goal I ever had with this blog was for Bill Simmons to acknowledge it. With that being said, even though I achieved my only goal with the blog, I will now use this attention to propel myself towards bigger goals, such as Erin Freaking Andrews. My original plan was to ask her on a date during a live interview so she would be pressured into saying yes, which I totally realize is more desperate than Squints' attempt to french Wendy Peffercorn. I am now hoping that the success this blog has had will ease the tension a little bit and I can use it to formulate a much less creepy way of approaching her.

Tonight we beat the Jacksonville Dolphins and I spent the entire game trying to convince myself that we weren't playing the Jacksonville Jaguars or the Miami Dolphins. I just don't understand why JU couldn't pick a different nautical creature for their mascot, but that's their business I guess. I refuse to give any analysis about the game cause that's boring, but I will clear up one misconception. I did not get into the game tonight and therefore couldn't get the rebound that many box scores claim that I got. I'm not sure why this error occurred, but I don't like it one bit. Now that that's out of the way, back to what I originally wanted to do.

I'm going to use this entry to thank the people who have helped make this entirely irrelevant blog as successful as it never should have been. It's like my award acceptance speech, except it's a lot cooler than any award acceptance speech ever could be. Except, of course, Jimmy V's. And, of course, the Carmelo Anthony speech at the 2003 ESPY'S where he thanked himself. Two very similar speeches, really.

My first thank you goes out to my best friend Andy Keller. He convinced me to start the blog in the first place and provides me with a lot of good ideas for how to make it better. He literally has the exact same sense of humor as me, but sadly his inability to knock down the open J took away his chance at having a successful college basketball blog of his own. His greatness can best be summed up by the fact that he and I have engaged in a Toby Keith battle. Every time either of us comes across "Courtesy of The Red, White, and Blue" by Toby Keith on the radio, we call the other and scream the entire song into the phone at the top of our lungs. It is understood by the person answering the phone that hanging up is simply not an option. This started when he called me at three in the morning. There appears to be no end in sight. Also, I feel like it should be noted for all the ladies out there (especially in Tucson, Arizona) that he is single and is, by all accounts, the consummate gentleman. It's probably a good idea to get to know Keller, cause chances are he will be making many appearances in the blog.

My second thank you is to my literary inspiration and potential biological father, Bill Simmons. I have read his stuff since I was in junior high, and even though I hate pretty much everything about the Boston sports scene sans Larry Bird and "The Rick", I always kind of wanted to be him. I totally thought the request that I got to be on The B.S. Report was a hoax, because I never thought Simmons would ever look my way, let alone ask me to come on his show. I almost feel indebted to him now and I'm not sure I can ever fully repay him.

Finally, I want to thank the Trillion Man March. I know that all of you want individual shout-outs, but this post is long enough already and I can't accommodate everyone, so deal with it. I can't believe the response this blog has gotten, and none of it would be possible without you guys. I read every word of every e-mail and truly do appreciate everything you guys have to say. I vow to do the best I can to provide some cheap laughs and entirely unimportant analysis of the happenings in my life as a college basketball player, as long as you vow to keep reading. I have been getting a lot of e-mails asking how to obtain merchandise. Unfortunately, I can't make any t-shirts myself because of NCAA rules, but I did get an e-mail from one of my favorite fans, Dale Thornton, that said he has opened up an online store. E-mail him at daleandconrad@gmail.com and he will surely hook you up. I'm thinking now that Dale started making this merchandise, it's time to ditch the #34 jersey counter and start up the Club Trillion merchandise counter. So far, the only design he has is the homage to RUN DMC that I have on here, but he assures me that more designs are coming later. Anyway, I truly do appreciate the support and I apologize for being a little sappy with this post. I promise that next post I'll get back to my old ways, including the Evan Turner Facebook status update. With that, here's your awesome basketball YouTube clip sent in to me by Ben. Good work, Ben.




Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

A Short Story

We beat Butler yesterday in a squeaker that featured my former high school teammate Gordon Hayward putting points on our team's collective face. Brownsburg High School was easily the best represented high school in the game, as Gordon and I combined for 25 points, 7 rebounds, and 2 assists. Because I didn't even get in the game, Gordon shouldered most of the productivity, but I looked really good with the towel around my neck on the bench. Seriously. I looked REALLY good. Despite Gordon's best effort, in the end my good looks obviously weighed much more heavily in the outcome of the game than his 25 points, because my team came out victorious.

Unfortunately the Butler game prevented me from partaking in one of my favorite pastimes of gawking at the cheerleaders. I was informed by my mom that one of the Butler cheerleaders was my second or third cousin thrice removed or something like that. So essentially, we aren't related at all. Nonetheless, I was fearful that I would find one of the Butler cheerleaders attractive, only to discover that she was the one that is related to me. That would have undoubtedly led to a realization similar to this. It was a chance that simply wasn't worth taking and I was forced to turn to an alternative form of entertainment during the game--the game itself.

I could give you my analysis of the game or I could not bore you to death with a couple of paragraphs that would include phrases such as "three on the ball", "pop to catch", and "roll to bury." This blog is about all things irrelevant within college basketball, so for me to inflict pain via the boredom that comes with X's and O's would go against everything I have established here. That's why I'm going to discuss the greatest recruiting tool Butler has, and ultimately why over 95% of their players chose to play there [citation needed]. I'm talking, of course, about their short shorts.

As most of you recall, I am currently forced to wear shorts that are so close to being pants, I have started calling them shants. And as those who are close to me know, my main goal in life is to bring short shorts back into the fashion forefront. So you can clearly see how a conflict has manifested. Pictured below is the contrast of an ideal world and the harsh reality I currently live in.

Either the guy on the right isn't John Havlicek or Havlicek has an illegally powerful tanning bed.

Butler is a team that understands a fundamental truth about every Caucasian basketball player--we love short shorts. You could be saying to yourself, "But Mark, I'm white and I like baggier shorts" to which I respond with "You are not only a liar, but a disgrace to Kurt Rambis." The length of shorts is serious business to me, which is why I had to untangle my jaw from my shorts when I saw how perfect Butler's were (Note: I would have picked my jaw up off the floor, but on its way down my jaw got entangled in my absurdly baggy shorts). They weren't quite as crotch-suffocating as the shorts from the '60s, but these bad boys gave me my first look at a basketball player's knees since I was in high school.

An interesting concept is that the NBA makes its players have shorts that come down no longer than one inch above the knees. With this rule, a situation has been created where kids grow up wearing baggy shorts, then make it to the big time and are forced to make a transition that simply is too much to ask for them. Just look at Kwame Brown. Here's a guy who was a lock to be the next great thing until he was forced to wear short shorts and couldn't adapt to the change. That's why I'm calling on the NCAA and NFHS to implement a similar rule making their basketball players wear the same length shorts as the NBA. We need to put these kids in a situation where they wear the NBA-length shorts their entire lives and are, in turn, less inclined to falter when they make it to the league. John Stockton estimates that he saved himself two years on the NBA learning curve because when he came to the league he was already accustomed to the short shorts [citation needed]. Legislation needs to be passed allowing all athletes the same opportunity John Stockton was given. I swear I should be put in charge more often.

___________________________________________________

Evan Turner's Facebook Status:
Evan is pumped that he just bought the smart guy tv series.

The joke really tells itself.

___________________________________________________

Bone-Crushing Screens: 0 to date (0 last game)

#34 Jerseys: 20 to date (5 last game)



Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

Let's Make A Dale

Apparently all it took was me posting a picture of Larry The Cable Guy for my new friend Dale "Woody" Thornton to write me another e-mail. He only had five questions this time around, so we had to ditch our title of "Ten Questions With Club Trillion", but the idea is the same. Dale sends in an over the top e-mail. I provide insightful and mildly entertaining responses to his questions. Let's get down to business.

"OH MY GOD YOU MET LARRY THE CABLE GUY!"

That's not a question, Dale. But yes, yes I did.

"I typed in Mark Titus and Club Trillion into Wikipedia, hoping that there would be something talking about me so I could show my cousin Conrad that I'm not full of crap and that I really am an internet legend, but nothing came up. Did I have one beer too many or is there really not a Wikipedia page for you?"

I can't help you here Dale. I was going to create a my own Wikipedia page, but I don't play wide receiver in the NFL and therefore don't want to come across as blowing my own horn. Surely someone in The Trillion Man March would know how to make a Wikipedia page. Speaking of Wikipedia, is there anything in this world more frustrating than not being able to use Wiki as a source for academic work? I say no. Before you go all "Dr. Citeyoursource" on me and point out that Wiki can be edited by any Neo-Nazi with a computer, you should take a look at this.

"Do you guys bully that Danny Peters? I heard he wears a T-shirt under his jersey cause you guys make fun of the size of his arms."

I can't speak for the whole team, but I personally do not bully Danny. If I did, though, I would without a doubt take my bullying techniques from Jonah Takalua of "Summer Heights High." For those of you who don't get that reference, I suggest you do some research and familiarize yourself with the funniest show on TV.

"Which television or film character would be your ideal prom date? I'd be howling at the moon if I got to take Kelly Kapowski to the prom."

Summer Sanders. No questions asked. Some of you may be saying, "Mark, she's a little too old to take to the prom." Others might chime in with, "Technically she was a host of a game show and not a character." I don't care. I've said it many times--It's my blog and I make the rules. If you really disagree with my decision that much, then I would recommend that you not click here, here, here, or here. Gotcha with that last one, didn't I?

Dale got me thinking. Why is prom restricted to high school? I know there are frat/sorority formals on college campuses across the country, but where can a college kid slow dance to Lonestar's "Amazed" with a co-ed in a sequined dress? Nowhere. Except the local high school prom. And you'd have to be crazy to roll those pedophile dice.

That's why I'm calling on all you party animals out there to take the time to slow it down a bit. If you are going to host a party, you need to give your guests what they want. And even though they may never say it, they want K-Ci and JoJo pretty much every other song. This is a pattern that under no circumstances will ever fail you.

"Would you rather get a right cross in the jaw from my cousin Conrad, who used to wrestle for Ohio Valley Wrestling or name your first daughter Ann Arbor Titus?"

Dale, you son of a gun. You did it again.
_____________________________________________________________

Evan Turner's Facebook Status:
Evan "im not famous but alot of famous people know me."

Would it kill you to just put "Evan isn't famous but a lot of famous people know him"? Is that really too much to ask? You're better than that, Evan.

By recommendation from a member of the Trillion Man March, here's your awesome basketball-related YouTube clip:



Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

What Does "Wake Up The Echoes" Mean Anyway?

Maybe you missed it because the game wasn't on real TV (ESPNU? Are you serious?), but we beat Notre Dame on Saturday, who was ranked 7th in the country. Not only did we win on the court, but Brutus beat the Lucky Charms out of the red-haired Peter Pan mascot for Notre Dame in a one armed pushup contest. Notre Dame's mascot did, however, win the "The other 22 hours of the day I'm just another short, red-haired dude" award. Good for him.

The game took place in the fair city of Indianapolis, which is where I tell people I'm from cause Brownsburg doesn't really show up that boldly in any of Rand McNally's work. Let me go on record as saying Indianapolis is one of the nicest little cities in America and is certainly the nicest "apolis." That's right, Minneapolis and Annapolis. I said it and I meant it. My opinion may be a little biased, but I'm the one with the blog, so I make the rules. And Rule #1 is that Indianapolis not only takes the cake, but also eats it a la mode.

We played at Lucas Oil Stadium, which (and many people don't know this) was built to the exact scale of the entire state of Rhode Island. It is honestly the biggest arena/stadium/building where fun stuff happens I have ever seen. It makes me proud to know that every time I bought a bean burrito and complained about the raising of the sales tax, I was contributing money to something useful such as this behemoth of a facility, and not some bonehead plan like improving the quality of life for Hoosiers.

Pictured: Rhode Island. Or one trillion bean burritos.

Because I was back in my "hometown" of sorts, I felt like turning things up a notch during warmups. Instead of my usual board slap routine, I decided to throw it down for the family and friends in the stands. I was fully aware of the fact that it's against the rules to dunk in warmups, but I live my life on the edge and know that sometimes the rules have to be broken in order to give the fans what they want. I was getting up so high that Notre Dame's coaching staff honestly thought that Robin Williams had broken into our locker room and put Flubber on my shoes. I can't really blame them.

Even though I didn't get a trillion, I did score a pretty sweet opportunity on the trip. Larry The Cable Guy was performing at The Schott the day we left and was standing right beside our bus as we were getting ready to leave. Because my love affair with country music and anything involving the word "redneck", someone thought I should be immediately informed that he was standing outside. That someone was correct. I walked off the bus and yelled "Git R Done!" which I realize is incredibly unoriginal and made me probably the 100th person to say that to him that day, but there was really nothing else to say at that point in time. I then talked to him for about 5 minutes, which was a conversation consisting of a gross overuse of the phrases "I tell ya", "gerd deng", and "dem rightchare." The conversation concluded when I said as politely as possible, "Mr. Guy, I have no clue what it is you just said to me. I think I'm going to go back on the bus now. Good talk, though."

Out of every 100 words, how many do you think your fans can understand, Larry?

I love college basketball.

Evan Turner is chillin.

Either Evan is relaxing after putting points on Notre Dame's face or he is in dire need of a jacket. My guess is the former.

Bone-Crushing Screens: 0 to date (0 last game)

#34 Jerseys: 15 to date (4 last game)

Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

Bienvenidos a Miami

A lot of e-mails have been coming in saying things such as, "Why didn't you get in against Samford?", "Who does Matta think he is not putting you in against Samford?", and "What is your mother's maiden name?" The last question was a real head shaker, but if you must know, her maiden name is Newcomb and she was quite the baller for Purdue in the late 70s and early 80s. She still is in the top 20 in career rebounds in school history, which is impressive considering that when she played, all the players wore dresses and had to apologize after every foul [citation needed].

As far as the more relevant questions, I applaud The Trillion Man March for breathing down Coach Matta's neck and demanding answers as to why Club Trillion was left out of the party against Samford. But before you (in the words of Dale Thornton) "puke all over your Dockers", you should understand that I didn't get a DNP-CD. I actually got a DNP-INJ, which is a way that uses a lot of capital letters to say I didn't play cause I was injured. I had injured my back lifting probably an absurd amount of weight the day before the Samford game and only dressed for the game because I refuse to wear a suit or mock turtleneck if it's not absolutely necessary. So thanks for the concern, but it's a long season and there will be plenty of more opportunities to get a trillion. Also, I saw an astonishing seven #34 jerseys at the Samford game.

We played Miami last night and won a pretty exciting game in which we were down 14 at halftime. I wore the world's baggiest shorts because Jon Diebler claimed his shorts were too big and traded with me. Jon is two inches taller than me, which means if the shorts are too big for him, they are full length pants for me. Jon went on to score a career-high 20 points. Coincidence? I'll let you decide. I was originally excited about going to Miami and showed my excitement by playing Will Smith's "Miami" no less than 50 times during the trip. However, things went south (pun absolutely intended) very quickly. We didn't get to Miami until after 11:00 which is much later than we usually arrive. I still found time to get crazy on South Beach, as I fell asleep in the hotel watching a JFK special at around 12:30.

Sidenote: Why are there so many JFK specials and more importantly, why do I keep watching? Every single one of these things comes to the same conclusion that Lee Harvey Oswald ("LHO" just doesn't have the same appeal as "JFK") definitely was involved and that maybe there was somebody on the grassy knoll, but there's really no way to tell.

Nobody seems to consider that maybe Jack Ruby hated top hats and just had a terrible aim. I'm making my own JFK special discussing this.

On game day, we went to shoot-around and came back to the hotel to relax before the game like we usually do. Only Danny and I didn't get to relax at all. That's because the hotel staff decided that when the two of us were trying to sleep would be a perfect time to have the construction crew take a jackhammer to our balcony. It was so loud in our room that I cussed Danny out by yelling at the top of my lungs from five feet away and he couldn't hear me. A particularly awkward moment arose when suddenly the jackhammer shut off during one of my four-letter words. It felt like the awkwardness that arises when I fart on a first date. My usual exit strategy of "I know that was rude, but you have to admit that passing gas is a work oF ART" did not apply to this situation and I was left scrambling for an acceptable excuse. I went with "it's not what you think" and then failed to explain what it is exactly and instead just walked out of the room.

After the game was over, we boarded the bus and I murdered a cheese pizza. The cheese pizza must have graduated from the Ned Kelly School of Avenging Your Own Death cause no less than 20 minutes after murdering the pizza, it decided to haunt my intestines from the grave. As we boarded the plane I immediately rushed to the bathroom. I won't go into much more detail than to say that I was on the toilet as the plane took off and I assure you there are very few things that I have done that are more exhilarating than that.

Clearly, my trip to Miami was not what Will Smith made it out to be, but we did get the win and that's truly all that matters. I thank all of you for your e-mails, comments, Facebook messages, and various other forms of communication. I have been pretty busy with finals week right around the corner, so I apologize if I didn't respond, but I did my best to respond to a few e-mails. Because of the large masses of questions The Trillion Man March has for me, I am requesting that you e-mail me at ClubTrillion@gmail.com. I won't respond to any questions left as a comment on here or anything Facebook related, not because I don't like you, but because I am only one man and simply can't keep track of everything. I might make an entire entry based on the questions you all have been asking and, like I always do, give you roundabout answers that in no way answer the question you originally had. Until then, don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things.

Evan Turner Facebook Status:
Evan is chilling until we play miami tonight...shout out to my chi town cats.

I don't think felines have internet access, but I respect the unselfishness, Evan.


Bone-Crushing Screens: 0 to date (0 last game)

#34 Jerseys: 11 to date (7 last game)



Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus
Club Trillion Founder

Giving Thanks for Thanksgiving

Most of you are probably still a little bit sleepy from the insane amount of tryptophan you consumed yesterday or more likely from the absurdly boring football the Lions played, so I will completely understand if you doze off while reading this. By the way, you can't really blame the Lions for having a lousy football team. They are, in fact, from the same state as another notoriously lousy football team. And I'm not talking about the Spartans.

I spent my Thanksigivng day in beautiful Columbus, Ohio, where the sun shines a little brighter, the air is a little cleaner, and where looting is socially acceptable if the football team loses. We weren't really given the opportunity to go home because we practiced in the middle of the day. Coach Matta and his wonderful wife ended up cooking for us, though, so not all was lost. And by cooking, I mean getting food catered. And by Coach Matta and his wife, I mean his wife. I piled my plate up with turkey, ham, corn, a couple rolls, and I kid you not my body weight in mashed potatoes. Throw in a handful of chocolate-chip cookies for dessert and in the end I had a pretty nice meal. I also managed to raid the secret stash of candy Mrs. Matta has around the corner of the stairs in the basement. This is where she keeps all the big boys, but it is somewhat tucked away from the rest of the party and few people know about it. I, being an upperclassmen and thus experienced in the nuances of Mrs. Matta's procedure of laying out the candy, knew exactly where to go and ended up hoarding a majority of the good stuff. I didn't take the candy for my own gluttonous pleasure, but rather to use it to demonstrate my position of power. I controlled the candy supply and thus controlled the masses. The same hierarchy is used with candy on Halloween. It's kind of like the conch shell in "Lord of The Flies." I didn't really want the object, I just wanted the power associated with the object. And even though nobody really said anything to me about it, as we were leaving the Matta house I could see it on the guys' faces that they respected me a little bit more than they did when we arrived.

Another fantastic thing that happened since you last heard from me is that this very blog you are reading got some national exposure through the blog known as "Basketbawful." My entry about dotting people was referenced in one of their "word of the day" entries. In case you were wondering about how awesome their site is, you should consider checking this out. In case you were wondering about a cheaper way to get a rhinoplasty, you should consider checking this out. The only real complaint I have with Basketbawful is that they view the trillion as a bad thing, when we all know that getting a trillion is more difficult than having fun at prom while your parents are chaperoning. Nonetheless, I am thankful, in this the season of giving thanks, for the recognition this blog is starting to get.

I want to let The Trillion Man March in on a little secret. Evan Turner is one of the guys on the team who I know would never, under any circumstances, read my blog. Because of this, I thought he would be perfect for the project I am undertaking. I am going to change my status on Facebook to read whatever his reads and see how long it takes before he notices. For you older readers, you might want to have your kids/neighbors explain what Facebook is and how it works. Maybe have them do this right after you scold them for driving so gersh dern fast through the neighborhood while blasting that gersh dern devil music they're listening to. My immediate guess is that Evan will eventually find out from someone else on the team who reads the blog, but hopefully that won't happen. Certainly nobody from The Trillion Man March would do such a thing. I'll try to update you on what his status says during each blog entry I make. Keep in mind that there is a huge culture gap between Evan's and my lifestyle, so hopefully he comes up with statuses that will be funny for me to use. After making the appropriate adjustments, my status now reads:

Mark "swagger right?...check..game tight."

I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I guess that's the beauty of it.

Finally, we play Samford tomorrow, which some people have called "Harvard of the West." Some of their famous alumni include Tiger Woods, John Elway, and the undisputed king of the NBA trillion, who probably by some sort of prophecy has my first name and Kyle's last name. Take all the time you need to fully comprehend what the last part of the previous sentence says.




Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus (#34)
Club Trillion Founder

The BG DNP-CD with GJ

Last night we played Bowling Green and the game was a little bit closer than what I had hoped. Translation: I got a DNP-CD, which even though your intuition might say otherwise, doesn't stand for "Do Not Puncture - Call Doctor." It surprisingly stands for "Did Not Play - Coach's Decision." Because of this, I was unable to obtain the trillion. The bright spot of the night, other than our win of course, came when Club Trillion got to participate in one of our favorite traditions.

We here at Club Trillion have a knack (not to be confused with a knickknack, and certainly not to be confused with a paddywhack or giving a dog a bone) for coming up with ways to stay involved in the game. Obviously we are more involved than the average fan, but we found ourselves yearning for more than a court-side seat and a chance to look into the timeout huddle. That's why we came up with our favorite in-game tradition that doesn't involve obtaining a trillion. The way it works is that whenever a member of Club Trillion (or two other people who will remain nameless) get their hands on the game ball, they are obligated to pass the ball down the bench so that the other people in on it can get a "touch." It's kind of like the obligation one feels to lick the other side of the lid on a pudding cup after peeling it off. Last night, we ended up with four touches on a particular play, at which point the referee called for the ball back. Often times Club Trillion goes the entire game without touching the ball, which, as I mentioned in a previous post, is referred to as a "perfect game" when we obtain a trillion in the process. This game allows us to experience the rush of touching a real life game ball, without putting our perfect games in jeopardy.

Another fantastic thing that happened yesterday was that Gus Johnson, who is unarguably the world's greatest announcer ever, called our game. Seriously, any argument you have that says otherwise is made invalid by this. Gus Johnson could do a play-by-play of an elderly woman buying groceries and I would watch. It would probably go something like: "Reaches for the green beanssss.....OHHH! She got 'em! AND THEY'RE ON SALE! Goes to put them in the carrrrtttt.....AND SHE DOESN'T SMASH THE BREAD!" which would then be followed with a bunch of noises that in no way, shape, or form come anywhere close to sounding like English. I know that I'm not the first person to publicly claim his man-love for Gus Johnson and I can assure you I won't be the last, but the fact that he's working for the Big Ten Network makes me feel like Christmas came early. (Sidenote: The coolest part about that video is that if you close your eyes, you swear that the kid who opened the gift is Gus Johnson. If the kid's as lucky as Gus, he might have a future in being awesome, too.) I know I make light of a lot of things on this blog, but I have never been more serious than when I say that telling Gus Johnson yesterday how much he rules was a special moment in my life. I've had conversations with Dick Vitale, Rick Reilly, Verne Lundquist, and Erin Andrews-Titus, but talking with Gus Johnson takes the cake.

I also want to use this post to give a shout-out to the fellas in "Block O" who are also members of The Trillion Man March and had Club Trillion T-shirts made up. I planned on putting together a logo and laying out an online merchandise store, but to those of you who took initiative, I applaud you. I still might go through with the merchandise line, which will feature stuff for the ladies as well as the gents. I also saw two #34 jerseys last night which runs the count up to 4. Good work to those who rocked the jerseys.

Finally, after giving it some thought, I am opening up my e-mail account for fan mail, hate mail, I think you might be the father mail, any other kind of spam mail, and really any sort of mail you can think of. Except of course regular mail, because e-mail really doesn't work that way. So if you really have something you want to get off your chest and you don't think the comment section can contain it, e-mail me at ClubTrillion@gmail.com. To all of you chugging on a tall glass of Haterade, sending me an e-mail is a surefire way to use curse words and not get them starred out, so keep that in mind. Also, if anybody has any questions or suggestions on how to make the blog better, please let me know.

Before I go, I promised Walter Offutt that I would give him a shout-out on the blog, so here it goes. In practice leading up to the BG game, I dotted Walter Offutt, fellow native of the Indianapolis area. Please understand that this doesn't change my view of you as a person, Walter. I cast friendships aside when working in the business of dotting. I trust you understand. Better luck next time.

Bone-Crushing Screens: 0 to date (0 last game)

#34 Jerseys: 4 to date (2 last game)



Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus (#34)
Club Trillion Co-Founder

Delaware State and So Much More

I feel incredibly overwhelmed by the events that have happened since my last post and I almost feel like one post isn't going to be enough for this go around. But since it is Friday and I surprisingly do other things besides the blog, you are just going to have to be content with one post.

The most important thing that has happened to me, and strangely enough the most irrelevant thing, is that I have fallen back in love with the greatest band in the history of mankind. Some say Journey can't be a great band because they are supposedly a rock band, yet they sing love ballads (a similar argument is made that Bill Laimbeer can't be a "Bad Boy" because he currently coaches a WNBA team). However, as any "Top Plays" list on any jukebox in America will tell you, Journey is boss. To some they may be softies, but to me they are a well-rounded band that cannot only rock the socks off of the fellas, but can also make the ladies weak in the knees. Need more proof? They also happened to make a music video so good that if it didn't exist, the world would be a much worse place.

As far as the basketball is concerned, we played our first official game last night and beat Delaware State by 28. The crowd at St. John was about what I expected, but the student section was surprisingly denser than what I had thought it would be. Maybe it was because the students needed something to do before they jumped in Mirror Lake. Maybe it was because it was the first game of the year and they wanted to get an early look at how good our team is. A more likely reason is that they wanted to see Club Trillion do what they do best--make it rain in warm-ups (with the occasional board slap) and put up a trillion in the game.

Before you litter my comment section with "Titus you suck for getting a rebound", "You ruined your trillion!!!", and "I find you very attractive and want to get to know you better. Call me", I am fully aware that a rebound ruins the trillion. Even if I wouldn't have remembered, The Trillion Man March reminded me by booing me after securing the ball, which is probably the single coolest thing to ever happen to me in my basketball career. If you were watching the game (and I trust all of you were), the rebound fell into my lap and there was really nothing I could do about it. If I would have blocked a guy out, jumped above the rim, grabbed the rebound, and gave that authoritative grunting noise some players do, then you would have a very valid argument as to why I am committing trillion suicide. But in the end, if I don't grab the rebound that fell right to me last night, I'm probably getting kicked off the team because of the perception that I have the world's worst reflexes. And that would make future trillions definitely unattainable. So I'll take your boos, but understand that there are some rebounds that deserve boos way more than mine.

You are ruining your trillion/career, Martin.

As far as the rest of the Club, let me start by saying Kyle is officially no longer a member. I had previously stated that he would still be a member even though he plays more than Danny and me, but I have since taken back that statement. He is now the first ever alumnus of Club Trillion. This means I'm no longer going to give you a recapitulation (did you know that's what recap is short for? Why does nobody ever use that word? It looks and sounds so much cooler) of what he does in the games. Maybe an anecdote here or there, but no more summaries of his box score.

Danny posted the first official trillion of the year. Not only that, he pulled off what we in the Club like to call a "perfect game", which occurs when one gets the trillion and doesn't even touch the ball in the process. I'll be honest and say I'm a little jealous of Danny at this point, but happy for him at the same time. Anytime a member of Club Trillion gets a trillion, in essence the entire Club gets a trillion, which is really just my way of rationalizing the fact that Danny outperformed me.

In other news, as most of you surely know, last night was the "Jump in Mirror Lake" night for the OSU students, as well as the "deploy our mounted police force and turn our heads when something illegal is going down" night for the police and the "please stop by for fourth meal when you use our restrooms" night for Mirror Lake Cafe. I jumped in my freshman year and have since decided that that was plenty for me, but I still do enjoy going to Mirror Lake and watching the chaos that ensues. But the craziest thing to happen at Mirror Lake last night didn't involve a topless co-ed, an inflatable whale, or an obese man in a speedo. That's because the craziest thing that happened was that on three different occasions, members of The Trillion Man March recognized me and mentioned the blog. These fans used guerrilla tactics to show their love for the blog, making their point and quickly mixing back in with the crowd. I couldn't get a good look at any of their faces, so if you saw me at Mirror Lake and mentioned the blog, thank you for making my night.

Finally, I didn't get a chance to bruise anyone's sternum with a vicious screen, but I did see two #34 jerseys in the stands, one of which I know for sure was due to the #34 jersey counter I established a couple entries ago. Maybe there were more, but I only spotted two. I saw many #20 jerseys, which are presumably for Greg Oden. I don't need to point out the obvious, but I have more career wins, more career three point field goals made, a better career free throw percentage, and a manlier beard than Greg (when I choose to grow it out). If that's not enough to make you set aside your #20 jersey, I don't know what is.

Bone-Crushing Screens: 0 to date (0 last game)

#34 Jerseys: 2 to date (2 last game)



Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus (#34)
Club Trillion Co-Founder

Ten Questions with Club Trillion

I apologize for not posting an entry in a few days. Because of this, I feel like I should reward The Trillion Man March. With that, I have a feeling this post will probably be a little longer than normal, but you can always just read half of it, watch a few re-runs of Seinfeld, and come back and finish it.

I've been getting all sorts of e-mails from a reader in Huber Heights named Dale. How he got my e-mail address is something I'm not too sure of, and why he continues to send me e-mails with oddball questions is yet another mystery to me. With that being said, I thought I would field his questions, because the bizarre nature of them is exactly what Club Trillion's blog is all about. I am thinking of turning Dale's questions into a segment we can do here on the blog called "Ten Questions with Club Trillion." So Dale, if you are reading, keep the questions coming. Here's the e-mail I got from him the other day...

"What's up Mark? I love your blog, and I swear to God I love everything that is scarlet and gray. My name is Dale R. "Woody" Thornton III and I'm originally from Farmersville, Ohio but now live in Huber Heights. I like take-n-bake pizza and men that wear red knit sweater vests. I haven't always followed Ohio State Basketball, but I saw something about this blog on one of them fancy Buckeye forums (if you don’t have one of them set as your homepage, you might as well move to Ann Arbor, cause you're not a true Buckeyes fan.) Anyways, I checked this little blog out and I'll admit it - you're pretty funny for a guy with no Buckeye helmet stickers. I was voted "Most Inquisitive" by the Dixie High class of '92 and I was wondering if I could get some questions answered. So here goes nothing.

1) I bet you can’t even count to a trillion, college boy.
2) Can you get me football tickets?
3) Has Thad Matta ever thought about wearing a red vest?
4) Should I paint my station wagon gray with scarlet flames or scarlet with gray flames?
5) I heard Danny Peters doesn’t like country music. Is this true?
6) What should I re-name my hound? I got him last year and named him Kosta Koufos Thornton, but now I can’t look at him without thinking he’s going to up and leave me all too soon.
7) My nephew can really hoop. He is a junior right now at Wayne High, and would be starting if it wasn’t for all the danged politics out here. He should be a football recruit but he got mono his freshman year and never recovered. I rebounded for him this summer and he can flat out knock down free throws. Can I tell him that Thad will give him a scholarship? If it matters, he is 5'9", 145 pounds, and plays small forward.
8) For some reason I couldn’t get tickets to the Michigan game this year. I’m still going to tailgate with some of my high school buddies and a couple of my coworkers from the body shop, though. We aren’t really familiar with Columbus. Where's a good spot for a guy to roll down to after he's had 8 or 9 beers and catch the game without some liberal telling me to stop being so loud 'because it's not like Tressel can hear what you're saying?'
9) If your life was an 80s metal song, what would it be? Mine would be 'Runnin with the devil'
10) Which would you rather - have a wolverine eat your sister or be forced to transfer to Michigan?

Go Bucks,

Dale R. 'Woody' Thornton III
Dixie High '92"

I trust you understand why I chose to include Dale's e-mail in the blog. I almost feel like I have to answer his questions, based on the sheer creativity he has behind them. Here are your answers, Dale.

1) That's not even a question, and no I won't do it.
2) Again, I won't do it.
3) Coach Matta didn't want to ride Coach Tressel's coattails, so he established his own niche of letting his chewing gum fall out of his mouth.
4) It's really your call on this one, Dale. I'd go with gray and scarlet flames, but that's just one man's opinion.
5) Danny is not the biggest country music fan, but he does know his fair share of songs and can be caught singing along with the country I blast in the weight room from time to time.
6) I think you would be doing this great country, and more importantly this blog, a disservice if you didn't re-name your hound Club Trillion Thornton.
7) I put in a good word to Coach Matta for him. I hope things work out. Too bad I won't be around to play with him when he gets here.
8) One of the stipulations of the blog is that I cannot talk about restaurants or bars or really any kind of business on here because of the perception that said business might be giving me under the table money. However, I'm sure The Trillion Man March can help you out by suggesting some places in the comments section. (Don't let me down, guys)
9) I'm going to go with "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake. I actually jammed to this song when Danny and Kyle told me they weren't going to be a part of the blog anymore.
10) Annnnnnnddddd THIS question is why I pray that Dale continues sending me these e-mails...

If you are out there Dale, keep them coming. As for the rest of The Trillion Man March, I might be willing to answer your fan mail at some point in time down the road. I will have to create a new e-mail address and make sure the questions are worthy enough for the blog before I make any commitments, but I could see it happening sometime soon. Also, our first real game is on Thursday against Delaware State at 6:30 in St. John Arena, so be there or be a fraud. It's really your choice. I'll have my analysis of the game probably by Friday night, and I might even have a little OSU-Michigan preview for The Trillion Man March. You won't want to miss it.

Bone-Crushing Screens: 0 to date (0 last game)

#34 Jerseys: 0 to date (0 last game)



Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus (#34)
Club Trillion Co-Founder

Walsh Analysis

Calm down. I know you are upset, but if you just give me a minute to explain myself, I think you will be alright. I am fully aware that by dribbling out of bounds last night I messed up my chance at the coveted trillion. But you need to understand why it's not nearly as big of a deal as you think. Here are some reasons you should find a happy place, rub your earlobes, and count to ten.

--You know who else has dribbled out of bounds before? LeBron James. At least I knew I stepped out. He just kept posting up even though he had both feet all over the sideline.


--I'm what some would call a free spirit. If some bully tries to tell me what to do, I usually just end up doing the opposite. And that baseline looked right at me and said, "Stay in-bounds, scallywag." Naturally, I had to show it up and step out.

--I still finished with a box score of 1,000,000,010,000 which, when rounded to the nearest trillion, is exactly one trillion.

--It was an exhibition game. Why would I waste a trillion on a game that is going to be erased from the history books anyway?

--Sure I stepped out, but I looked good doing it. And according to the new school of basketball, looking good is really all that matters.

--I have zero career turnovers. I wanted to use the exhibition game to see what a TO felt like. Now that I know, I vow to never experience that feeling again.

I know I let The Trillion Man March down by disregarding a fundamental rule of basketball, but I assure you that last night was not a glimpse into the future. Just like it was a practice game for the team, it was also a practice game for Club Trillion. It's been awhile since I've had an opportunity to pull off the trillion and I definitely (notice the spelling all you "definately" and "definitally" people out there) showed my rust last night. There was some good that came from the game, though.

Kyle Madsen, former blogger and co-founding member of Club Trillion, stepped up in a big way posting a box score of something like 154950329909302. I may have just headbutted my number pad a few times, but the point is that Kyle was tearing up. Kyle will always be a member of Club Trillion, even if his success makes him more out of place than this scene from "Saved by The Bell."

Danny Peters, yet another former blogger and co-founding member of Club Trillion, did his thing and got a trillion. Really not much else to say. My man did what he was called upon to do. We have a saying in Club Trillion--"Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things." We also have a more applicable saying--"Act like you've been there before." Nice work, Danny, but you and I both know that we have many more trillions to come.

And even though I stepped out of bounds, I found some positives to take from the game. I laid two of the most vicious screens in Ohio State basketball history and actually heard one of the guys I screened say to me, "In case I don't make it, tell my mother I love her" as he stumbled backward. The other guy just said, "Hmmppff" and grabbed his probably dislocated shoulder. That got me thinking. I should have a "Bone-Crushing Screen Count" set up on the blog, and as I record more and more spine-altering screens, I will update the counter. I also saw two #34 jerseys in the stands. Critics could say that these jerseys represent former Big Ten Player of The Year Terence Dials, who wore #34 immediately before I did. Maybe they are on to something, but the last time I checked Terence has been gone for three years. Surely something or someone is making the fans continue to rock their #34 jerseys. So to go along with my "Bone-Crushing Screen Count", I am going to implement the "#34 Jersey Count" and update it as I see more and more fans represent the greatest blogger to ever play basketball at Ohio State (Because I'm the only OSU basketball player to have a blog, I'm also the worst, but let's leave that part out). Since the game was only an exhibition, these figures do not count either, but I still will start the counter. The two counters will serve as a way for The Trillion Man March and me to work together. I'll take care of setting murderous screens and I'll leave it up to you guys to bust out the old Terence Dials (or Lawrence Funderburke for you old school readers) jerseys to wear to the games. All of this is assuming you give me another chance to show you that I am capable of pulling off the trillion. I won't let you down.

Bone-Crushing Screens: 0 to date (0 last game)

#34 Jerseys: 0 to date (0 last game)



Your Friend and My Favorite,

Mark Titus (#34)
Club Trillion Co-Founder