Pigskin Pursuit

An eight year odyssey across the backroads of America during the ultimate College Football roadtrip.

Tag: Sun Belt

Arkansas State vs Louisiana Lafayette – Red Wolves cage the Ragin’ Cajuns…

In the pantheon of the college football world, a trip to Arkansas State doesn’t rank very high on the list of dream destinations. And, if we’re being honest, Northeast Arkansas is hardly an exciting tourist draw. The broad, table flat expanse of the Mississippi flood plain features endless miles of cotton, corn and soybeans, but lacks the rugged beauty of the Ozarks to the west. Hemingway spent some time here, in nearby Piggott, Arkansas, the hometown of his second wife Pauline Pfeiffer. Reportedly, much of his novel Farewell to Arms was written in a studio there. Outside of that little historical nugget, however, the greater Jonesboro area offers little to the wayfarer.

But if I’ve learned anything in my travels, it’s that every place deserves a visit. Every little corner of America has a story to offer, no matter how small or subtle, and it’s my calling to discover it. To leave no stone unturned…

After flying into Memphis, the nearest airport of measure, I set off on the hour long journey to Jonesboro setting a northwesterly course along Route 63. The rental car gods have bestowed upon me a gas guzzling Ford Explorer, and the black behemoth feels like a school bus compared to the cramped shitboxes I’m accustomed to.

I cross over the broad, tea colored, Mississippi River under the expansive double iron arches of the Hernando De Soto Bridge. The span, over 9,000 feet of her, is named after the famed Spanish explorer who first surveyed this stretch of the river in the mid 1500’s. The same Spaniard whose remains purportedly lie unmarked somewhere in the sand beneath those murky depths after his body was tossed in and sunk by his men. According to legend, after dying of fever he was “buried” (chucked into the river) in secret during the night; lest the ruse that he was an “immortal sun god” be spoiled amongst the subjugated natives.

In addition to the bridge, however, (and the general conquistador pestilence and brutality that early Spanish explorers wrought upon the new continent) the legacy of De Soto carries a far greater implication on the culinary landscape of America than most are aware, and, even, the very bedrock of the PigskinPursuit itself. Ironically, it is De Soto that is widely credited as the first European to introduce domesticated Eurasian swine to the North American mainland.

That’s right, DeSoto brought pigs to America. And we are forever in his debt…

A few of those first hogs DeSoto brought over undoubtedly escaped the executioners axe, and set off to run wild in the forested expanse of the New World. These pioneering pig “pilgrims” that made the trans-Atlantic voyage, and subsequently scampered off into the wilderness, would become the forefathers of the feral pigs or “Razorbacks” that have populated the entire Southern US since. So, perhaps, even a certain Arkansas football team owes their very mascot heritage to the bearded Spaniard.

One could further surmise, that during those initial days of Spanish exploration, after a long day of conquistadoring, some of DeSoto’s men took a long, mouthwatering glance at those portly hogs running around and got an appetite. One of them may have then glanced upwards into an untapped wilderness of virgin hardwood forest bursting with oaks, hickories, and cherry trees and put two and two together. One bright idea and a few blows of the axe later (for both the trees and the swine) and the enterprising bunch were tenderly roasting said pigs over a crackling hickory fire (thankfully, the electric smoker hadn’t been invented yet). And, voila, sometime in the mid 1500’s American BBQ is borne – partial courtesy of Senor De Soto.

According to legend, some twenty minutes later, Texans and North Carolinians began arguing over whose barbecue’ is better….

Arriving in Jonesboro, I take a quick breakfast at Presleys Drive-In, a forty year old staple of the Jonesboro dining scene. The exterior of the classic, red roofed, dairy diner is highlighted by expansive dark tinted windows, each of them hand painted with cartoonish pictures of hot dogs and banana splits. Elvis paraphernalia adorns the interior, small tchotchkes and statues, along with a few framed pictures and news clippings of “The King”. I order a breakfast platter of ham, eggs and potatoes for $6.05 and wash it down with a heavy Styrofoam cup full of chocolate shake.

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The downtown portion of Jonesboro is an idyllic, if charming, one lane college town. An afternoon stroll along Main Street reveals a plethora of pubs, burrito joints, local clothing stores and bicycle shops. It’s the usual assemblage of college town commerce that you would expect for a school that quietly houses nearly 20,000 students. But what separates Jonesboro from some other peers in the lower echelons of the college game, is the surprisingly robust school pride featured throughout the village. Make no mistake about it, this is Red Wolves country, and you’ll find it boldly shouted it on every street corner. One can hardly walk a few steps without seeing wolf “paw prints” or a giant lettered “A”. Every shop window and store front in town is decorated with elaborate hand painted murals of the Red Wolf mascot, decked out in ASU logos, each of them touting slogans like “Howl” or “Wolves Up”. It’s one of the most prideful college towns I’ve encountered.

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On a pristine afternoon, the Arkansas State campus is just starting to show signs of fall. The leaves are turning the first shades of rust, the lawns cropped and hay colored. It’s a sprawling, open, campus but still buzzing with students on a Tuesday afternoon. Like many other universities in the south, enrollment at Arkansas State has grown precipitously over the past two decades, and the architecture reflects that. New buildings abound here, evoking the conservative, precast concrete forms of banal higher education design. There are a few bright spots, however; the ASU University Museum, which features some nice collections of Native American artifacts, as well as exhibits on early Arkansas frontier living. Another museum, The Bradbury, is also a few steps away and is dedicated to more modern art collections.

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With a few hours before kickoff, I channel my inner explorer and go on the hunt for some BBQ, settling on Demo’s BBQ, one of the only joints in town. Claiming “award winning” BBQ, Demo’s actually boasts two locations in the greater Jonesboro area, and the building here on Church Street is their mainstay shop. While the battered galvanized metal siding on the exterior has all the hallmarks of a classic southern BBQ joint, a row of gleaming steam trays greets me inside the door, and expectations quickly plummet.

I order my customary combo of brisket and pork ribs, which the counterman insists are carefully smoked over hickory. While that ruse may work on the unsuspecting greenhorn, I’m a steely eyed sharpshooter for bbq at this point in my career. And after a mass of gray, smokeless, chopped beef is summarily lumped onto my plate, I start looking for the ultimate act of desperation – sauce. Pork ribs, albeit smokeless, fare a bit better, they’re at least passable at best. But as I gnaw them from the bone, I can’t help but wonder what Papa DeSoto would think. After nearly five hundred years on the continent, I feel like his pigs deserve a proper smoking more befitting their heritage.

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Pork fix satisfied, I zoom back over to the ASU campus, as a few of the Red Wolf faithful start dropping tailgates in the various parking areas surrounding the stadium. It’s quiet, as one would expect for a Tuesday night draw, but gameday access is a breeze, and I find easy free parking along Red Wolf Boulevard fifty yards from the stadium. Centennial Bank Stadium, formerly known as “Indian Stadium” prior to the ASU mascot change from “Indians” to “Red Wolves” in 2008, features a spectacular grove on its eastern flank. Towering pines and hulking oaks shade the grounds underneath, pre-game revelries occupy the various picnic tables and tents, while children slalom through trunks of the great trees chasing footballs. As the last few rays of amber light slice through the aluminum grandstands, leaves and shadows dance and flicker, the grove ethereal and mute in the fleeting moments of dusk.

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I circle around the West side of the stadium, as the brassy ASU marching band begins filing towards the gates. The crowd thickens, forming a gauntlet on the asphalt walkway as the players walk through in their scarlet and black Adidas jumpsuits, exchanging high fives with outstretched arms as they march towards the stadium. It’s here that I track down a free ticket. “Here you can have this one, I got upgraded to the luxury boxes!” a guy proclaims when he sees my lone finger raised in the air. He hands me a glossy black ticket, the words ‘along with the others we’ve won!’ written in bold letters across the front.

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Shortly after finding my seat, the Red Wolf mascot comes blasting out of an inflatable black tunnel on the back of a throaty Harley Davidson motorcycle, the players sprinting behind in a cloud of smoke. As one might expect, the stands are a bit sparse on a Tuesday night, and with swaths of open grandstands the stated attendance figure of 20,495 seems a bit generous. But the remaining fans that choose to attend on a Tuesday night are the die hard types, so they put up a decent home field advantage for the Red Wolves squad.

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On the field, the Wolves take it to the Ragin Cajuns early. Quick footed Arkansas State quarterback Fredi Knighten carves apart the Cajun defense. Scampering around pursuers to extend plays, he finds seams in the defense, firing a pair of touchdowns in the first half. The ASU running back committee of Warren Wand, Johnston White, and Michael Gordon trade handoffs as they march downfield, contributors to the 306 yards of total rushing that the Wolves tally on the night. Even the ASU defense chips in, picking off an errant Cajun pass attempt and returning it for a thirty yard touchdown. The Wolves are on the prowl. At the close of the first half, ASU sits comfortably in command at 34-14, and it looks like a rout in the making.

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But in the second half their momentum grinds to a halt. The offense sputters, and the defense softens. The Ragin’ Cajuns assert control. Led by standout dual threat quarterback Jalen Nixon who amasses 201 yards rushing, and another 253 through the air, ULALA intends to mount a second half comeback. The ASU student section does their best to will their team back to life. During the third quarter, they collectively bellow the ASU war chant “OOOO …..o.. OOOOOOO…” an exact copy of Florida State’s Seminole War Chant, and presumably a holdover cheer from the days of the Arkansas State Indians. Despite the chant, the Red Wolves play remains flat, and fans anxiously watch seconds dribble off the scoreboard. In the end, the Red Wolves manage to run out the clock, escaping with a dicey 37-27 win and extend their unblemished Sun Belt Conference record to 3-0.

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In the end, Arkansas State is a pleasant trip. The grounds and groves surrounding the stadium would be an inviting place on a fall Saturday afternoon, and Red Wolves pride is alive and well in Jonesboro, adorned on every window and shop front in town. But if there is a bigger takeaway from my trip to Arkansas State, it’s that history can be uncovered in the most unlikely of places and every small corner of America has a nugget to offer. Clearly, any barbecue aficionado owes a debt of gratitude to those early Spanish explorers, and were it not for the soaring arches of the Hernando Desoto Bridge over the great river, I may have overlooked it. That’s what makes off the beaten track places like Arkansas State always worth the journey.

To pay my respects to Hernando De Soto for his contributions to the barbecue world, the PigksinPursuit will be tipping out a pour of my next Big Red in his honor….

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full clickthrough gallery below:

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Georgia Southern vs. Louisiana Monroe – Eagles soar over the Warhawks…

Although any conversation about college football in Georgia inevitably starts with the beloved Dawgs, and perhaps the Ramblin’ Wreck shortly thereafter; there’s another proud program to be found in the Peach State: Georgia Southern.  After moving up from the FCS ranks to join the Sun Belt Conference in 2014, the Eagles were enjoying considerable success in their inaugural FBS season.  Soaring their way through the Sun Belt, they sported an unblemished 7-0 record in conference play, and a final showdown with Louisiana Monroe was all that stood between them and the conference championship hardware.  Ineligible for bowl consideration during their first two FBS seasons, this was the final contest for the Eagles 2014 season, and Paulson Stadium would be primed on a Saturday night.

While flying into Savannah would have been the more palatable alternative, with Thanksgiving weekend flight prices reaching north of $1,000 I opt for the cheap Southwest bird into Atlanta and hoof it 200 miles into Statesboro in a rental Ford Focus.  Things aren’t always as glamorous as they seem here on the pigskin chase.

An hour south of Atlanta, I detour into Jackson, Georgia – home of legendary Fresh Air Barbecue.  The oldest BBQ joint in Georgia, the fires have been burning here since 1928 and I sling open a rickety screen door while the cashier is still taking down the last chairs off the tables for lunch service.  The familiar aroma of oak and hickory smoke wafts through the building, and the ancient brick pits bear a distinctive patina from eons of char.  They smoke hams (the hind quarter of the hog) here exclusively, and chopped pork is the only protein on the menu – served plain or sandwich style. Naturally, I opt for both, retreating with the plastic tray to one of the folksy wooden tables.  I add in a side for good measure, a steaming styrofoam cup of hearty “brunswick stew” – a chunky, tomato based stew loaded with beef and vegetables – a fixture of Southern BBQ joints.

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Peeling out of the gravel parking lot of Fresh Air with plenty of time to spare before a night kickoff, I cruise backroads the remaining 150 miles into Statesboro.  Winding down Georgia State Highway 57, I pass through small towns like Irwinton, Wrightsville and Kite; each of them dotted with a selection of pristine, white washed, First Baptist churches.  During longer stretches the road bisects vast swaths of Longleaf Pine habitat – lush grasslands shaded beneath canopies of slender pines extending as far as the eye can see; one of the most endangered ecosystems in North America.  The roads are all but empty on a Saturday morning, save a few deer scampering across. It’s a pleasant drive, and a gentle reminder of the rural beauty that Georgia offers outside of the suffocating metropolis of Atlanta.

Arriving in Statesboro, the campus is quiet in the early Saturday afternoon.  I slip into some easy free parking at the Georgia Southern Performing Arts Center and take an obligatory tour of the grounds.  Strolling along a tree lined walkway skirting Lake Wells, the grounds all but vacant during Thanksgiving holiday, the campus resembles a country club carved into the Southern Georgia woods.  New buildings abound, accented by crisp new bricks and gleaming galvanized metal, all of them constructed in a massive, $300 million dollar expansion for the school since the early 2000’s.  The shiny new part of campus is offset by the traditional, lived oak lined promenade bisecting “Sweetheart Circle” – the old part.  GSU lettered topiary greets visitors at one end, while the South side is anchored by the imposing white columned, plantation style, Pittman Administration building at the other.

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With the sun dipping lower into the late afternoon sky, I wander my way towards the beckoning light towers of Paulson Stadium to find a more vibrant scene.  The numbered parking spaces surrounding the stadium are swarmed with revelers, tents are spread out on grassy medians, and blue Eagles flags flap with the brisk gusts arriving in the evening chill.  The lines at the two small box offices are stacked forty people deep, and ticket resellers are noticeably absent.  I press my usual carpet trading tactics in the asphalt lots instead, making a few passes with a raised finger before tracking down a single ticket for five bucks.

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As far as small program go, the Georgia Southern fan base is one of the liveliest I’ve seen.  For a Sun Belt game during the post-Thanksgiving hangover, a time when most stadiums are hibernating, the Eagles crowd is a delightfully raucous one.  They exchange alternating chants before the game – “Who’s house…..Our House!!!” and “Georgia…….Southern!!!” while a bird handler settles into position midfield, leather glove ready at the wait.  With one of only two live eagle mascots in college football, the other being Auburn, of course, Southern fans quietly enjoy one of the best entrances in the sport.  The crowd hushes for a moment once the signal is given, and “Freedom” the live Bald Eagle mascot of Georgia Southern, swoops down from the top of the press box.  Circling over the field at dusk, the wings of the great raptor outstretch like fingers brushing the rust colored horizon, it’s a magnificent entrance.

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In addition to Freedom the Eagle, for a school of recent vintage in FBS college football landscape, Georgia Southern is a charmingly tradition rich program.  The most integral part of that tradition is, simply, – winning.  One could forget that the Eagles claim six national championships at the FCS level since 1985 (the most of any school) before making the jump to FBS this season.  And the program today cultivates those humble, hungry roots.

They still take yellow school busses to the stadium, a tradition which began in 1981 when nearby Bulloch County school district donated the busses to an Eagle program that was too poor to afford its own.  The squad dons minimalistic uniforms of simple blue and white, free from garish accoutrements and frivolity – the anti-Oregon approach, if you will.  Their flat navy blue helmets are numbered, similar only to Alabama, and feature a white stripe down the middle.  The white stripe is a holdover from the early days of the program resurrection in the 1980’s under coach Erk Russell.  The skipper had ordered solid blue helmets because budgets were too tight and simply instructed the players to put a white strip of tape down the middle.  The same coach then rebranded a muddy, mosquito infested, drainage ditch outside the stadium to “Beautiful Eagle Creek” – and carried jugs of the “magical water” to sprinkle on opposing team’s field prior to away games.  While his methods may have been quirky, the traditions stuck, and Russell’s influence still celebrated in the program today.

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As the ball is booted into the Georgia night 16,283 fans belt in unison “Go!!!…….Blue! One more time!!!” a cheer dating to 1986 after the Eagles won their second straight national championship.  Despite the vociferous opening, the Southern squad starts out slow, however.  The offense sputters in the first half, eeking out a lone field goal and botching a second attempt.  Momentum comes in infrequent spurts, and their powerhouse, methodical running game – one which led the country in rushing average at 379ypg – falters. Despite their relentless ground onslaught, they are unable to penetrate into the second level of the defense and break off chunks of yardage.   The invasive Warhawks manage a touchdown in the second quarter, and at halftime the Eagles trail 7-3.

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But the ever passionate Georgia Southern crowd, the best I have witnessed at a smaller school, remains unfazed.  On their feet for every key play, they bellow the “Who’s House……Our House!!!” chant with renewed vigor as the eagle handler parades “Freedom” through the stands to rouse them on.  Finally, midway through the fourth quarter the Georgia Southern commitment to principle pays off.  They reel off two straight touchdown drives, steamrolling the gassed Louisiana Monroe blockade.  With 59(!) rushing attempts on the evening, the Eagle offense demonstrates a textbook example of a dogged, relentless running game wearing down a defense until it breaks.  Assuming control at 22-16, the Eagles defense holds on the final drive of the game, and they run out the clock to take home the Sun Belt Conference Championship.

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After the final whistle, fans remain in Paulson, cheering the culmination of their initial FBS season.  The PA announcer invites the audience onto the field for a post game celebration, and thousands of them descend onto the turf for the trophy presentation.  Standing on the patio near the east endzone, head coach Willie Fritz triumphantly hoists the Sun Belt Trophy high in the air.  Mobbed by players, and surrounded by a few thousand fans, the team enjoys a few minutes of public celebration before retiring to the locker rooms.

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In the end, Georgia Southern is the pinnacle of small program college football.   Where the program doesn’t benefit from 120 years of history, they create their own traditions, reinforcing them with a culture of winning.  Many smaller schools chuck the ball all over the field to fill the stands, but Southern sticks to their principles, pounding it out on the ground, a discipline instilled under the tutelage of great former coaches like Erk Russell and Paul Johnson (current guru of the Georgia Tech triple option).  The fans respond in kind, standing on their feet for all four quarters.  Southern supporters are among the most boisterous, loyal, and passionate fans I’ve encountered in my varied travels and they would be the envy of any program in the country.   I left enamored with my Georgia Southern experience.  “Southern” as it’s loyal followers refer to it, is truly a credit to this beautiful and varied sport.

Pound for pound, Georgia Southern is one of the best college football experiences in the game, and I’ll happily make the sojourn back to Statesboro to watch the Eagles soar again….Hail Southern!

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Full Clickthrough Gallery Below:

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Texas State vs Arkansas State – Bobcats bite the Red Wolves…

Kicking off the weekend of my Texas triple header was a Thursday night Sun Belt showdown in San Marcos, Texas – home of the Texas State Bobcats. As one of a dozen FBS programs in the football crazed Lonestar State, the ‘cats had eluded a visit during my Dallas days. But the promise of a triple header weekend (with additional stops at Rice and Houston), along with the allure of some proper Texas BBQ, made a trip to San Marcos an easy sell.

It’s a long drive from Houston, but pleasant, after escaping the clutches of nightmarish urban congestion. Wide open plains stretch in the distance as I blast down I-10, the cruise control set at a comfortable 80mph. A few thunderheads ominously gather in the western distance, great columns rolling over in the horizon like black surf. Cattle graze listlessly on the lush fall grass, shaded under twisted live oak canopies poking out of the prairie.

Approaching the I-35 corridor, midway between Austin and San Antonio, San Marcos has experienced explosive growth in the past decade as part of the great population migration to business friendly Texas. Chain restaurants clump around the exits, their gaudy neon signs littering the skyline next to garish billboards. Naturally, I opt for something a bit more tasteful – a massive barbecue lunch at the newly christened Kent Black’s BBQ. Kin to the infamous Blacks Barbecue of Lockhart, the barbecue capitol of Texas, Kent Blacks only recently opened their doors but boast over 80 years of BBQ tradition attributed to the Black family name. Evidently, the brick pits at this new location are already chugging out first rate cue’ and I settle into a heaping plate of brisket and ribs, capped with a Jurassic sized beef rib.

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Bellied up for the night, I head towards Bobcat Stadium and slip into some free parking next to a set of railroad tracks across the street , quickly setting off to survey the tailgating grounds. True to it’s reputation as one of the preeminent party schools in Texas, the revelry does not disappoint. While they may not enjoy the same mass following as their burnt orange neighbors to the north, pound for pound Texas State may have some of the most raucous tailgating in the game.

Lifted trucks are stuffed into the lots with giant speakers thumping in the beds, pumping out anything from Randy Rogers Band to Swedish House Mafia. A few setups even feature live bands, and dozens of cowboy boots scuttle rhythmically across the asphalt as tanned legs two-step to the twang. Beer cans litter the ground along with a few empty tins of dip, while the aroma of bbq smokers wafts through the humid night air. A few cops ride by in a golf cart chuckling at some of the outlandish antics, they keep an eye on things, but refrain from the need for heavy handed intervention. It’s a raucous yet positive, magnificent scene. The best of what tailgating should be.

As the lights of Bobcat Stadium flicker in the gathering night mist, kickoff beckons and I make my way towards the shining concrete facade. I score a free ticket from a woman draped in a maroon ‘Cats sweatshirt, she’s waving fistfuls of them outside the entrance gates as fans shuffle in from the parking lots. Booming across the loudspeakers, It’s senior night for the Texas State squad, and after each of the graduating players is personally announced they greet their family on the field. Shortly after, the rest of the team pours out of the tunnel as gold and red fireworks blast into the sky, the smoke hovering at field level for a few extra beats in the humid night air.

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A light patter starts to fall as the game kicks off, but the Bobcats are undeterred. They run roughshod over the Red Wolves, jumping out to a 28-14 lead at halftime. Junior running back Robert Lowe annihilates the Arkansas State defense, gashing them for 236 yards against four touchdowns – a career night for the Waxahachie, Texas native. Despite the foul weather, the largest collegiate dance team – the Texas Strutters – make their halftime appearance. The crowd gazes for a few moments and undergrads cheer, as hundreds of mini skirt and cowboy hat clad women rhythmically dance and kick legs high in the air for the performance. The second half of football plays out much the same as the first, as the Bobcats run away with a lopsided 45-27 victory. They cement their position in the upper tier of the Sunbelt Conference with a convincing senior sendoff.

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Full Clickthrough gallery below:

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