The semester is winding down and so is the fall sports season, and I am ready to hand out my thank you cards.

First, I would like to say thank you to the woman’s rugby team. Thanks for a great season and I hope things work out better for you guys next year. I know this season was tough, but with a coaches like Graziano and Reed, winning games will come easy.

Thank you to the Ohio Valley Conference champion Panther football team. You guys made me say “it’s a ****ing touchdown” more times this year than I can remember. Taylor, Raymond, Ricks, Cutolo and Romo, thanks for pulling it together and destroying the OVC this year. I will be looking forward to next season with dollar signs in my eyes.

Thank you to Henry Domercant, J.R. Reynolds and the rest the men’s basketball team. You guys made me “happy drunk” on Saturday after the football team’s loss. If you guys wouldn’t have beaten Augustana, this column would have been sent via e-mail from the Charleston Police bullpen. Because I would have gotten arrested for getting rowdy in Chucktown. P.S. you guys need to dunk more.

Thanks to the BCS because with out it, the big red, Nebraska, would not have a shot at the Sears trophy after getting smoked by the Buffs. If only they could have played defense that game, maybe they would have won.

Thanks to the women’s volleyball team. If it hadn’t been for your OVC tourney win, I would have never been able to look at as many butts in hot pants as I did that night in Champaign. (Not your butts, though.) Point, Wildcats!

Thank you to the fine establishment of Marty’s. After most games and Friday classes, I go to your place and drink as much as possible. Thanks for letting me pee on the bathroom floor. (Oops! I did it again.)

Thanks to the Director of Athletics Dr. Dick McDuffie. Thanks for getting uppitdy in the face of that loud mouth Indiana State coach after the coach said, “Who the hell are you?” Good response: “I’m the athletic director. Who the hell are you?”

Thanks to Chris Herrera for starting in place of the scoreless Rod Henry. You are better at the point with a blindfold on than “Hot Rod” would be in a pee-wee league game with kids in wheelchairs. (Jan, quit laughing. You’re next.)

Thanks to “Project 21” because of you and your stipulations, I now owe the video store my life savings because of late charges on extensive pornography rentals and frequent viewing of the “Super Bowl Shuffle” music video from the 1985 Chicago Bears. Go Bears.

And finally, a special thanks goes out to the winless Eastern Illinois women’s basketball team. Your season schedule poster is stupid. You scare me with bad make-up and bulging muscles.

And head coach Linda Wunder, you need to get out of the 1980s. I will buy you a new pair of earrings, if you want me to. I was also “Wunder-ing” why you still have your job. You have said, “Oh, It ain’t my fault” more than the legend Master P, himself.

If it came down to either seeing my grandparents fornicating or watching another Panther women’s basketball game, I only have few words on that: Hey Gramps, got the Viagra ready? Lights, camera, action.