One of those old cheers, vaguely remembered, chanted something about how gridiron players and fans alike should "get fired up." Sound in theory: Football's one game where aggression, motivated fury, can pay benefits, grunt out a few extra yards, stab the desperate grab, sky a finger up just northerly enough to tick the kick cattywampus (scientific term).

Basketball's about precision athleticism. Though there certainly can be some elbowing down the lanes, channeled ferocity's unlikely to hit three-pointers. Soccer's endurance, the ability to tolerate long stretches of no scoring without falling into a coma, and agility. Hockey ... well, OK, hockey channels anger, too, but short of the Holidays on the River, we're not much of an ice-capital down South. Everything I know about hockey I learned from "Slapstick."

Baseball relies on timing, especially hitting, probably the only job in sports where doing it well 30 percent of the time makes you a star. A 90 mph fastball, not uncommon in the bigs, zips from the pitcher's hand to catcher's mitt, unless interfered with by a slugger, in 400 milliseconds. That's less time than it takes to type "400 milliseconds," because you've got to look to make sure you didn't add a couple extra lls.

So a batter has one-quarter of a second -- 100 milliseconds -- to judge a pitch's speed and location, decide whether to swing, and swing. It takes almost 25 milliseconds for the brain's signals to set the legs, hips, torso and arms torquing into motion; a typical swing itself takes about 150 milliseconds.

If math and physics twist you into a frenzy, baseball's probably not your game.

You don't swing, or swish, or try to make it home, in football. You encroach. You penetrate. You blitz.

In football, the fast, full-sized and furious can rule: See Da'Ron Payne, the widest receiver, joymaker for the Crimson Tide on two spectacular plays in Monday's Sugar Bowl. I probably haven't laughed that happily at a game-viewing since the '93 Sugar Bowl, when George Teague not only ran down hapless Miami receiver Lamar Thomas -- streaking for what he thought would certainly be a touchdown -- but stripped the ball out of the trash-talking Thomas' grip, then ran away with it. That's yet another case where Bama took anger, from the national press' disregard, from Miami's arrogance, and turned it against the opponent, into not just a decisive victory, but a flat-out humiliation of the heavily favored Hurricanes. Their Heisman-winning quarterback Gino Torreta looked like a pee-wee leaguer -- a pee-wee benchwarmer -- against Copeland, Curry and Teague, oh my.

So come on, Bama, get fired up for Monday night, and let's grant Nick Saban rest for, oh, all of 10 or 20 seconds before he starts muscling toward the next crystal trophy.

Get fired up, Bama ... unless, of course, you're Jalen Hurts.

In an otherwise pedestrian David Mamet film titled "Heist," from 2001, Ricky Jay laid out an icy über-Mamet line, spoken about the boss-thief character played by Gene Hackman. But it works better for Hurts, because outside this movie, we've seen Hackman lose his temper. He's kinda known for it.

It goes: "My (expletive) is so cool, when he goes to bed, sheep count him."

Hurts' resting blood pressure is 108/76. Pre-game, it's 90/60. After the first snap, 80/40. Jalen being blitzed? 20/3.

Watching him captain the offense, even when it's not clicking perfectly, is actually relaxing. Nothing fazes the guy. Even driven out of bounds, when Hurts ran over the highest-paid man in Alabama, he didn't seem to get flustered. Sorry 'bout that, Nick. Gotta split. Peace.

My heart thrums faster listening to a white-noise machine. Speaking of, here's a peek at the mellowback's game-day mix:

Enya's "Watermark." Radiohead's "Kid A" (For ambient? Or Alabama?). Collected audio from Matthew McConaughey's rambling Lincoln commercials, listed under the title "Atsa Big Bull." Jeff "The Dude" Bridges' "Sleeping Tapes. A Perry Como super-mash of "Magic Moments"/"Hot Diggity"/"Catch a Falling Star." "21 Favorite Songs from Mister Rogers' Neighborhood." The "Unlocking the Power of Introverts" audiobook. "Songs of Leonard Cohen." Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb." John Cage's "4'33"."

Little-known: Hurts keeps an iPad tucked into his helmet, playing themes: "Green Grass and High Tides." "I'm Your Captain/Closer to Home." "Fade Into You." "Brass In Pocket." A mash of "Born to Run"/"Before They Make Me Run"/"Nowhere to Run"/"Run Run Run"/"I Ran," bleeding into "I Drove All Night." It caps with "Heroes," and for the ride home, the manic "4'33" " dance-club remix.

So how would you cheer on this young man's chill demeanor? It's pretty much the opposite of fiery. Get cooled down. Get easy. Get woke up. Get to your job with grace, style and unending calm.

Get like Hurts.

Reach Tusk Editor Mark Hughes Cobb at mark.cobb@tuscaloosanews.com or 205-722-0201.