The Phnom Penh Post

Thankfully there’s no ‘Viagra Bowl’

- Victor Mather

THINGS you never hear: “My dream is to one day be the starting quarterbac­k in the TaxSlayer Bowl.” “Great news: I got 50-yard line tickets for the uDrove Humanitari­an Bowl.”

“If t his team gels, I could see us going to the Bridgepoin­t Education Holiday Bowl.”

There is nothing quite like a college football bowl game, but when we think of the classics, we think Rose, Orange, Sugar — not the Zaxby’s Heart of Dallas Bowl.

Still, silly names for bowls and clumsy pairings with their sponsors are as much a part of the college football season as marching bands, cheerleade­rs and debates over the College Football Playoff.

The season’s bowl schedule began on Saturday with six games, including the AutoNation Cure Bowl between Central Florida and Arkansas State.

The era of the bowl with the clumsy sponsor name may be slowly winding down, as games have struggled to find companies to pay up in recent years, and minor bowls have been overshadow­ed by the playoff.

But goofy names for bowls will probably always be with us. Here are the six worst.

There is a long tradition of games named after commoditie­s. Usually it is sweet-smelling ones, such as roses, peaches and oranges, not generally black, viscous commoditie­s. But in the 1940s, Houston celebrated its local industry with this game.

From 2010-13, St Petersburg dropped all reference to the city for its bowl and instead celebrated a sports bar chain that sounds like the high school bully in a 1980s teen movie.

This one, which was used f rom 1993-95, ranks a litt le worse than the St Petersburg games because the Fiesta Bowl is a major event with a histor y of nationa l championsh­ip implicatio­ns.

Might a college football game actually make you upgrade your operating system?

Last year, this game was ca lled the BattleFrog Fiesta Bowl, named after a telev ision show in which teams of college students complete an obstacle course.

Back when drinking and driving without a seat belt barely raised an eyebrow, it was a natural to name a college football game after an intoxicati­ng beverage.

College games were played in Cuba for most of the first half of the 20th century, with some of them going under this name.

The NCAA confirmed that “alcohol is not permitted to sponsor a bowl game or an NCAA championsh­ip”.

The Postseason Bowl Handbook also bars sponsorshi­p from pool halls, dog tracks and films rated NC-17.

Among the sponsors expressly permitted are sexual enhancemen­t drugs and dentists.

This is a particular­ly infelicito­us marriage of sponsor name and commodity that has been in use since 2005. It just sounds ugly. This year’s game, between Brigham Young and Wyoming, is on Wednesday.

Let’s take a break from the negativity to celebrate one truly great bowl name, one now sadly lost to the mists of time.

From 1949-55, Phoenix hosted top college teams, and later All-Star teams, at Montgomery Stadium. Please, let’s bring back – the Salad Bowl.

And now, to the worst of them all.

The Independen­ce Bowl was called the Duck Commander Independen­ce Bowl in 2014, and somehow that was not its worst name.

From 1991-97, a game founded to celebrate one of the most important American ideals shared its name with a lawn care product.

By the way, the Independen­ce Bowl is played in Shreveport, Louisiana – on artificial turf.

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