Let’s punctuate the start of BYU’s football season with a statement that is as much a complaint as it is a declaration. And we’ll see if Cougar fans handle the truth in it any better than some Utah fans did after the Utes demolished a weak opponent in their opener the other night.

We’ll say it all plain: BYU-Utah Tech is a game that never should have been scheduled, never should have been played.

It was scheduled and it was played on Saturday evening because Tech wanted to get paid — at the expense of the physical and psychological well-being of its own athletes — and BYU wanted to pay for a victory. Done and done. Quite a business deal. Happens every season, not just here, but all across the land. Call it the oldest profession in college football.

Pity.

If the college game is supposed to offer true competition, it betrayed itself and everyone else with what was offered at LaVell Edwards Stadium on this occasion. A contest that was supposed to celebrate football, celebrate a new season and everything that comes with it, instead staged a slaughter that, as bad as it was, could have been worse. The final count of 63-7 featured a kind of duality that included both malevolence and mercy.

Sure, the Cougars went ahead and put nine touchdowns on the overwhelmed Trailblazers. It might just as easily have been 15 or 20. But since Kalani Sitake is a coach with a soul, he did not demand a full effort from his team. No reason, he figured, to turn the throttle to its wide-open position against a foe that knew what it was in for before the ball was ever kicked. And that was taking into consideration that BYU, as recently as last season, beat Portland State, 69-zip.

No disrespect meant to Utah Tech this time around; it was simply a nod to reality after the Trailblazers lost their opener the week before to Montana State, 54-0.

This game never should have been played. Is there an echo in here?

Any BYU fan who enjoyed it is the same person who would have laughed at the end of “Old Yeller.”

On the first play from scrimmage, Utah Tech suffered an interception, and two minutes later, BYU was up 7-0. Freshman Legend Glasker did the honors. That was followed by a long punch-you-in-the-mouth drive, punctuated by a TD pass from Bear Bachmeier to Jojo Phillips, making it 14-zip.

The flop to BYU’s flip, the Trailblazers did get a 20-yard run from scrimmage near the end of the first quarter, so there was that bit of happy news for the guys from St. George. And the Cougars were forced to punt somewhere in there. A subsequent Tech fumble set up another BYU touchdown, a quick throw to Glasker, who did the work, breaking tackles and breaking free, making the margin 21.

Next thing, Evan Johnson soared for a pick, and … Bear threw here, Bear threw there, LJ Martin ran here, and LJ Martin ran there, and Preston Rex churned for another … well, you know what: 28-0.

Less than 20 minutes had clicked off the clock.

When Glasker got his third TD, jacking the thing to 35-0, and then Bachmeier ran for another score, making the difference 42 near the end of the first half, only three words could tell the story.

Lord have mercy.

Bachmeier was sharp over the part of the game he played (16 of 20 for 198 yards and three touchdowns through the air, 30 yards and one score on the ground). Same for Martin. Same for Phillips. Same for Kyler Kasper. Same for (fill in the blank). Glasker looked like a star (three touchdowns). And the defense did its job.

Such as it was.

None of the Cougars could be blamed for what was happening here. For that matter, neither could the Trailblazers. It was administrators at both schools whom a big, foamy finger could and should have been pointed at for this debacle.

The first-half total-yardage and first-down stats showed that BYU had piled up 358 yards to Utah Tech’s 52; disparity in first downs went like this: BYU 20, Utah Tech 2.

The second half? Oh, man.

Started with a 103-yard kickoff return by Cougar Cannon DeVries, pushing the aforementioned mercy — from Sitake and/or from the heavens — out the door, into the dark night. The subs took over and roamed and rambled and rolled on.

The sad ending? Spoiler alert (even after 69 years): Old Yeller dies.