Upon learning that James Laurinaitis would return to Ohio State for his senior season, I involuntarily let fly into the ether: “O-H!” Rising out of the stench of stale beer on High Street, 400 miles away, came the reply: “I-O!” All across the land, Buckeye nuts flung themselves from tree limbs, rolling shamelessly through the streets hoping to be gathered up and made into tacky necklaces before next August. Somewhere in Columbus, a small child knelt at his bedside, clasped his hands together, and prayed: “God Bless the Little Animal.”
Yes, we’re all excited to have ol’ number 33 back. The news that the 2006 Nagurski Award winner and 2007 Butkus Award winner will be suiting up again next year was exactly the jolt needed to shake off the funk lingering from yet another bowl game humiliation, and set the Buckeye nation dreaming once more of glory, perhaps even another shot at redemption. But before the band strikes up Carmen Ohio, I just have to ask: “James, what the hell are you thinking?”
Let me explain my position here, and know that you’re hearing this from a former high school administrator, someone who values education very, very, very much: any player who can leave college early as a first-round draft pick—particularly an early first round pick as Laurinaitis has been projected—should.
My argument: One can always go back and get a college degree, but one has only a small window of opportunity to play in the NFL. And the monetary reward for playing in the NFL is very big. And the reality of it happening hinges on something very small—about the size of a knee or ankle.
Worst-case scenario for a top prospect entering the draft: Get signed for millions of dollars, sustain a career-ending injury the first week of practice, still collect a large portion of your money because your contract has certain guarantees, and with that large portion—which I should emphasize is very large—go back and finish college, which you’ll drive to each day in your Hummer from your enormous house.
Worst-case scenario for a top prospect staying in college one more year to get his degree: Sustain a career-ending injury at some point during your senior season, thereby ensuring you don’t get a dime—not one—for your enormous talent, a turn of events that rocks your world, nay your very existence, and will haunt you for the rest of your life as you think about what could have been. But hey, at least you’ll have that degree in interdisciplinary studies to fall back on.
“But wait,” a purist protests, “What about goals like wanting to lead your team to a national championship? You can’t put a price tag on that.”
That’s true, you can’t. Nor can you guarantee that it will happen.
Have we learned nothing from Mike Hart, Chad Henne and Jake Long? They returned to Michigan for their senior season, anchoring what was expected to be one of the nation’s most potent offenses, with three goals in mind: beating Ohio State, winning the Big Ten, and winning a national championship. They accomplished none of these. Instead, they opened their season as the victims of the biggest upset of all time and followed that up, in the case of Henne and Hart, by getting hurt. Not only did their goals go unfulfilled, they likely actually lowered their stock for the NFL draft. And they were lucky. If the injuries they sustained had been worse, they wouldn’t be getting drafted at all.
I’m not saying that the Buckeyes are going to flop next year, or that Laurinaitis will get hurt. I’m just saying we don’t know what’s going to happen, though after winning the Butkus Award this year and setting the record for tackles in the National Championship game, it's hard to imagine what he can do next year, short of winning the Nobel Peace Prize, to make his stock any higher than it is at this moment.
Anyway you slice it, coming back is a risk, and a big one at that. One can only assume that Laurinaitis has thought it all through, weighed the pros and cons as I’ve done, and somehow determined that leading the Buckeyes for another season is a risk worth taking.
For that, you have to love the guy even more.
God bless the Little Animal.
Showing posts with label Big Ten. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Ten. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Ah, the Irony
Well, it’s official. The Buckeyes are slow.
Of course, such a label has little to do with foot speed. Beanie Wells showed he could run with anyone when he sprinted 65-yards to paydirt on the first drive of the game. No, the Buckeyes aren’t slow on foot. They’re just a little slow in the head.
In last year’s title game, they showcased this stunning lack of wit by injuring their own star during an end zone celebration. How would they top such a performance in this year’s title game? By making sure they gave LSU as many free yards as possible—and at the most critical of moments. Brilliant.
When Ohio State committed two personal fouls in the span of three plays, giving LSU thirty bonus yards on the Tiger’s way to their first touchdown, well, I thought that was a special case of the stupid. But such a display seemed minor league in comparison to the dimwitted grandeur exhibited in the third quarter by Buckeye defender Austin Spitler, who roughed the punter on 4th and 23 to give new life to a stalled LSU drive.
“You think that was stupid?” teammate Cameron Heyward seemed to say. “Watch this.”
Heyward’s personal foul on the very next play moved LSU across midfield. Thirty seconds later the Tigers would be celebrating in the endzone. You just can’t script that kind of dumb.
As a direct result of Ohio State’s disciplinary letdowns, LSU scored fourteen points—the exact margin of victory in the ballgame. When one considers the timing of the infractions and the shifts of momentum that resulted, the difference was likely larger still. Consider:
The meltdown in the second quarter came when the Buckeyes still led 10-3. LSU went on to score on that drive, and never trailed again. The Spitler/Heyward debacle came on the opening drive of the second half, with LSU leading by 14. Instead of Ohio State getting the ball back early in the quarter with a chance to cut the lead to seven, LSU burned more time off the clock and increased the lead to 21, making it a three possession ballgame. Can I nominate that for a Pontiac Game Changing Performance? Such numbskullery would have to at least put us in the running for the $100,000 prize.
And the mental lapses didn’t seem to be confined to just the players. Am I the only one who wondered why Wells, who averaged 7.3 yards per carry and ran over LSU defenders like a teenage driver jumping speed bumps in the school parking lot (did you see that stiff-arm?), only carried the ball 20 times in the game? Were Buckeye coaches not aware that everyone from Les Miles to Urban Meyer to Kirk Herbstreit said that containing Wells had to be LSU’s main priority? McFadden ran the ball 32 times in Arkansas’s defeat of LSU. Wells ran the ball 39 times against Michigan. Both gained over 200 yards in their respective efforts. Why limit Wells to 20 carries in the title game, especially when LSU was failing to stop him? I’m no offensive coordinator. Just a very confused fan.
Of course, the end result was that the Buckeyes lost—handily—again. Whether their own gaffes or LSU’s prowess were the reason hardly matters. The announcers were already singing the old, tiresome tunes near the game’s end: “Ohio State receivers aren’t fast enough to get open.” “Ohio State’s line is being dominated by LSU’s faster, stronger line.” Well, maybe. Buckeye fans probably see it differently, recalling dropped passes in the endzone, silly missed tackles and a lot of knuckleheaded penalties instead. But for the next eight months, when we hear every sports analyst talking about how the Buckeyes aren’t fast enough to compete, we’d do well to just stay quiet and nod our heads in understanding. Maybe even offer up an ironic smile.
Better to let them think we’re slow than stupid.
Note (and slight change of tone):
After the game, Ohio State receiver Brian Hartline said he wished he could get every Buckeye fan into one room so that the team could apologize to us all. This struck me.
Brian, you don’t need to apologize to us. This was a rebuilding year. You made it to the national championship game, something nobody thought would happen (and critics will continue to say shouldn’t have happened). Regardless, you exceeded expectations just by getting there—and this in a year when other teams, who now claim they should have been playing for the championship instead, didn’t take care of business in the regular season to be in that position. Does this expose potential flaws in the BCS system? Probably. But those people need to blame the system, not the Buckeyes.
For Buckeye fans, our disappointment is simply two-fold: 1) The loss comes on the heels of last year’s much more embarrassing and inexcusable defeat, and 2) it always hurts more when stupid mistakes contribute to the loss—as I believe I adequately vented in my posting above. But you’ll be back next year, and older, and hopefully a little wiser. And you’ll likely have another crack at the national championship. There’ll be a lot of grumbling about that in the sports world. Expect it, and don’t try to refute it, except on the field. But you don’t need to apologize to Buckeye fans. We’ll still be cheering like mad. Like I said: we’re all a little slow in the head.
Of course, such a label has little to do with foot speed. Beanie Wells showed he could run with anyone when he sprinted 65-yards to paydirt on the first drive of the game. No, the Buckeyes aren’t slow on foot. They’re just a little slow in the head.
In last year’s title game, they showcased this stunning lack of wit by injuring their own star during an end zone celebration. How would they top such a performance in this year’s title game? By making sure they gave LSU as many free yards as possible—and at the most critical of moments. Brilliant.
When Ohio State committed two personal fouls in the span of three plays, giving LSU thirty bonus yards on the Tiger’s way to their first touchdown, well, I thought that was a special case of the stupid. But such a display seemed minor league in comparison to the dimwitted grandeur exhibited in the third quarter by Buckeye defender Austin Spitler, who roughed the punter on 4th and 23 to give new life to a stalled LSU drive.
“You think that was stupid?” teammate Cameron Heyward seemed to say. “Watch this.”
Heyward’s personal foul on the very next play moved LSU across midfield. Thirty seconds later the Tigers would be celebrating in the endzone. You just can’t script that kind of dumb.
As a direct result of Ohio State’s disciplinary letdowns, LSU scored fourteen points—the exact margin of victory in the ballgame. When one considers the timing of the infractions and the shifts of momentum that resulted, the difference was likely larger still. Consider:
The meltdown in the second quarter came when the Buckeyes still led 10-3. LSU went on to score on that drive, and never trailed again. The Spitler/Heyward debacle came on the opening drive of the second half, with LSU leading by 14. Instead of Ohio State getting the ball back early in the quarter with a chance to cut the lead to seven, LSU burned more time off the clock and increased the lead to 21, making it a three possession ballgame. Can I nominate that for a Pontiac Game Changing Performance? Such numbskullery would have to at least put us in the running for the $100,000 prize.
And the mental lapses didn’t seem to be confined to just the players. Am I the only one who wondered why Wells, who averaged 7.3 yards per carry and ran over LSU defenders like a teenage driver jumping speed bumps in the school parking lot (did you see that stiff-arm?), only carried the ball 20 times in the game? Were Buckeye coaches not aware that everyone from Les Miles to Urban Meyer to Kirk Herbstreit said that containing Wells had to be LSU’s main priority? McFadden ran the ball 32 times in Arkansas’s defeat of LSU. Wells ran the ball 39 times against Michigan. Both gained over 200 yards in their respective efforts. Why limit Wells to 20 carries in the title game, especially when LSU was failing to stop him? I’m no offensive coordinator. Just a very confused fan.
Of course, the end result was that the Buckeyes lost—handily—again. Whether their own gaffes or LSU’s prowess were the reason hardly matters. The announcers were already singing the old, tiresome tunes near the game’s end: “Ohio State receivers aren’t fast enough to get open.” “Ohio State’s line is being dominated by LSU’s faster, stronger line.” Well, maybe. Buckeye fans probably see it differently, recalling dropped passes in the endzone, silly missed tackles and a lot of knuckleheaded penalties instead. But for the next eight months, when we hear every sports analyst talking about how the Buckeyes aren’t fast enough to compete, we’d do well to just stay quiet and nod our heads in understanding. Maybe even offer up an ironic smile.
Better to let them think we’re slow than stupid.
Note (and slight change of tone):
After the game, Ohio State receiver Brian Hartline said he wished he could get every Buckeye fan into one room so that the team could apologize to us all. This struck me.
Brian, you don’t need to apologize to us. This was a rebuilding year. You made it to the national championship game, something nobody thought would happen (and critics will continue to say shouldn’t have happened). Regardless, you exceeded expectations just by getting there—and this in a year when other teams, who now claim they should have been playing for the championship instead, didn’t take care of business in the regular season to be in that position. Does this expose potential flaws in the BCS system? Probably. But those people need to blame the system, not the Buckeyes.
For Buckeye fans, our disappointment is simply two-fold: 1) The loss comes on the heels of last year’s much more embarrassing and inexcusable defeat, and 2) it always hurts more when stupid mistakes contribute to the loss—as I believe I adequately vented in my posting above. But you’ll be back next year, and older, and hopefully a little wiser. And you’ll likely have another crack at the national championship. There’ll be a lot of grumbling about that in the sports world. Expect it, and don’t try to refute it, except on the field. But you don’t need to apologize to Buckeye fans. We’ll still be cheering like mad. Like I said: we’re all a little slow in the head.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Dear Buckeyes: Your bid for respect has been postponed.
Well, tickle me blue. The Gators got beat by a Big Ten team. And by a Big Ten team that got beat by Appalachian State, no less. Can we forget that one now?
It’s not often Ohio State fans get to celebrate a Michigan victory, but it would be a cold-hearted Buckeye who didn't feel a warm, fuzzy glow watching Michigan players hoist Lloyd Carr onto their shoulders after the Capital One Bowl. Good for Lloyd for going out on top. Good for Chad Henne for having the game of his career and leading his fellow seniors to their first bowl victory. And good for Mike Hart for seizing the opportunity to make a giant ass out of himself one last time on national television. Who but Hart could offer such a rich display of chest pounding, muscle flexing and smack talking on his way to two goal line fumbles? Brilliant. Had Michigan lost, Hart would have been the reason. As it is, he’s the reason they didn’t win by more. Well done.
Of course, any Big Ten celebrations were somewhat tempered by the game that came next: a 32-point emasculation of Illinois by USC in the Rose Bowl. No one really expected Illinois to win this game, but we did hope they would at least show up. I swear I haven’t seen a Big Ten team look that helpless since…uhh…last January’s national title game.
But really, where was the Illini team that beat Ohio State in November? Where was the Juice Williams who ran at will against the Buckeye defense? I think I know what football analysts Mark May and Dan Wetzel would say: “Right there on the field, getting trounced by USC.” And they wouldn’t be alone. For much of the college football world, the Rose Bowl—and later Georgia’s fleecing of Hawaii in the Sugar Bowl—proved that next week’s BCS title game is just that: a “BCS” title game. No matter who wins between LSU and Ohio State, people are already speculating that either USC or Georgia may top the final AP poll. Buckeye fans, you had to see this coming.
So just what is Ohio State playing for at this point?
A national title, certainly. No matter what, a victory places the Buckeyes number one in the final BCS, and a convincing win just might keep us atop the AP, as well—though with plenty of grumbling.
But how about earning respect back for the Big Ten? Well, with the Penn State, Purdue, and Michigan wins, a Buckeye victory would bring the Big Ten to a solid 4-4 in bowl games, proving that we’re not an awful conference…just mediocre.
How about at least getting a little revenge on the SEC? Sure, I’d never overlook the satisfying, wonderfully petty feeling of revenge as motivation, and I would hope that Big Ten victories over Florida and LSU—two teams who supposedly challenge light itself in the speed category—would finally debunk the myth that the Big Ten is full of slow, plodding plough horses. Though those same victories would also seemingly reinforce the belief that the conference really is just a two-horse race, regardless of whether they're plough horses or thoroughbreds.
So what does this all mean? It means that next week the Buckeyes will be playing for, well, for the Buckeyes. A victory gets us a national title, a very drunk city of Columbus, and an eight-month reprieve, if not outright respect, from football critics.
The bid for outright respect has now been moved to the USC game next fall.
It’s not often Ohio State fans get to celebrate a Michigan victory, but it would be a cold-hearted Buckeye who didn't feel a warm, fuzzy glow watching Michigan players hoist Lloyd Carr onto their shoulders after the Capital One Bowl. Good for Lloyd for going out on top. Good for Chad Henne for having the game of his career and leading his fellow seniors to their first bowl victory. And good for Mike Hart for seizing the opportunity to make a giant ass out of himself one last time on national television. Who but Hart could offer such a rich display of chest pounding, muscle flexing and smack talking on his way to two goal line fumbles? Brilliant. Had Michigan lost, Hart would have been the reason. As it is, he’s the reason they didn’t win by more. Well done.
Of course, any Big Ten celebrations were somewhat tempered by the game that came next: a 32-point emasculation of Illinois by USC in the Rose Bowl. No one really expected Illinois to win this game, but we did hope they would at least show up. I swear I haven’t seen a Big Ten team look that helpless since…uhh…last January’s national title game.
But really, where was the Illini team that beat Ohio State in November? Where was the Juice Williams who ran at will against the Buckeye defense? I think I know what football analysts Mark May and Dan Wetzel would say: “Right there on the field, getting trounced by USC.” And they wouldn’t be alone. For much of the college football world, the Rose Bowl—and later Georgia’s fleecing of Hawaii in the Sugar Bowl—proved that next week’s BCS title game is just that: a “BCS” title game. No matter who wins between LSU and Ohio State, people are already speculating that either USC or Georgia may top the final AP poll. Buckeye fans, you had to see this coming.
So just what is Ohio State playing for at this point?
A national title, certainly. No matter what, a victory places the Buckeyes number one in the final BCS, and a convincing win just might keep us atop the AP, as well—though with plenty of grumbling.
But how about earning respect back for the Big Ten? Well, with the Penn State, Purdue, and Michigan wins, a Buckeye victory would bring the Big Ten to a solid 4-4 in bowl games, proving that we’re not an awful conference…just mediocre.
How about at least getting a little revenge on the SEC? Sure, I’d never overlook the satisfying, wonderfully petty feeling of revenge as motivation, and I would hope that Big Ten victories over Florida and LSU—two teams who supposedly challenge light itself in the speed category—would finally debunk the myth that the Big Ten is full of slow, plodding plough horses. Though those same victories would also seemingly reinforce the belief that the conference really is just a two-horse race, regardless of whether they're plough horses or thoroughbreds.
So what does this all mean? It means that next week the Buckeyes will be playing for, well, for the Buckeyes. A victory gets us a national title, a very drunk city of Columbus, and an eight-month reprieve, if not outright respect, from football critics.
The bid for outright respect has now been moved to the USC game next fall.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Family Affair: A gathering of mutants, psychopaths, and the numerically challenged.
Way to go, Big Ten. We’re 1-0 in bowl games so far, thanks to Purdue beating Central Michigan—that mighty MAC opponent—in the Motor City Bowl last night.
The Chippewas put up 48 points against the Boilermakers.
Purdue beat them on a last second field goal.
We’re going to have to do better than that.
Recall that this is a make it or break it year for the Big Ten. A year when every Big Ten team must show up at their respective bowl games and make a statement. Perhaps not everyone got the memo.
Purdue’s defense seems to have missed the bus to Detroit, ensuring that, even in victory, the Boilermakers have opened the conference to more criticism. Want more bad news? Our next hopes are pinned on Michigan State. They play Boston College this Friday in the Champ Sports Bowl.
Believe it or not, this is one of the match-ups I’ve been excited about. The Spartans, who finished a dismal 3-5 in Big Ten play, square off against Boston College, the ACC runner up and a team still ranked 14th in the BCS. What’s the good news, one might reasonably ask? Answer: The Spartans have nothing to lose. While the Eagles, who at one point rose as high as number two in the rankings, are probably disappointed by their failure to make a New Year’s Day bowl, the Spartans—who are lucky to be playing at all—should be relishing the opportunity to get a crack at such a highly ranked team.
So how have they risen to the occasion?
By having five players suspended from the team.
And not just any players, but key players. Players like defensive end Jonal Saint-Dic and linebacker SirDarean Adams, the one-two combo who put a hurt on Todd Boeckman and the Buckeyes in October, returning a fumble for a touchdown and raising the blood pressure of Ohio State fans everywhere. Saint-Dic, who apparently has trouble counting, failed a math class, one of only two classes he was taking this semester, making him academically ineligible. Adams violated team rules, a vague explanation put out by the Spartan athletic department which can safely be assumed to mean “acted like an idiot.”
Needless to say, I’m less excited by this match-up now.
But here’s the thing (which finally brings me to the point of this article): if Big Ten teams don’t seem to get it, at the very least, the fans should. Despite my cynicism, I’m going to be cheering like mad for Michigan State tomorrow night, and I better not see some joker in the stands wearing a Michigan sweatshirt cheering for Boston College. Such reminders should be unnecessary, yet, predictably, I saw some mutant in a Michigan jersey cheering for Central Michigan last night—apparently unaware of the consequences a Chippewa victory would have on his own Wolverines.
So listen up, Michigan fans. I know you don’t like Michigan State. Get over it. Mark Dantonio doesn’t like you either, but do you think he’s going to be rooting for Florida on New Year’s Day? Hell no, because he knows that every Big Ten victory makes his own team better. Mike Hart called the Spartans “little brother”. Insulting? You bet. But at least even a dimwit like Hart understood we’re all in the same family. Every big brother picks on his little brother once in a while, but it takes a rare psychopath to actually stand around and cheer while someone else beats him up.
How about tomorrow you resist being that psychopath? And maybe, just maybe, things will start to look up for the whole family.
The Chippewas put up 48 points against the Boilermakers.
Purdue beat them on a last second field goal.
We’re going to have to do better than that.
Recall that this is a make it or break it year for the Big Ten. A year when every Big Ten team must show up at their respective bowl games and make a statement. Perhaps not everyone got the memo.
Purdue’s defense seems to have missed the bus to Detroit, ensuring that, even in victory, the Boilermakers have opened the conference to more criticism. Want more bad news? Our next hopes are pinned on Michigan State. They play Boston College this Friday in the Champ Sports Bowl.
Believe it or not, this is one of the match-ups I’ve been excited about. The Spartans, who finished a dismal 3-5 in Big Ten play, square off against Boston College, the ACC runner up and a team still ranked 14th in the BCS. What’s the good news, one might reasonably ask? Answer: The Spartans have nothing to lose. While the Eagles, who at one point rose as high as number two in the rankings, are probably disappointed by their failure to make a New Year’s Day bowl, the Spartans—who are lucky to be playing at all—should be relishing the opportunity to get a crack at such a highly ranked team.
So how have they risen to the occasion?
By having five players suspended from the team.
And not just any players, but key players. Players like defensive end Jonal Saint-Dic and linebacker SirDarean Adams, the one-two combo who put a hurt on Todd Boeckman and the Buckeyes in October, returning a fumble for a touchdown and raising the blood pressure of Ohio State fans everywhere. Saint-Dic, who apparently has trouble counting, failed a math class, one of only two classes he was taking this semester, making him academically ineligible. Adams violated team rules, a vague explanation put out by the Spartan athletic department which can safely be assumed to mean “acted like an idiot.”
Needless to say, I’m less excited by this match-up now.
But here’s the thing (which finally brings me to the point of this article): if Big Ten teams don’t seem to get it, at the very least, the fans should. Despite my cynicism, I’m going to be cheering like mad for Michigan State tomorrow night, and I better not see some joker in the stands wearing a Michigan sweatshirt cheering for Boston College. Such reminders should be unnecessary, yet, predictably, I saw some mutant in a Michigan jersey cheering for Central Michigan last night—apparently unaware of the consequences a Chippewa victory would have on his own Wolverines.
So listen up, Michigan fans. I know you don’t like Michigan State. Get over it. Mark Dantonio doesn’t like you either, but do you think he’s going to be rooting for Florida on New Year’s Day? Hell no, because he knows that every Big Ten victory makes his own team better. Mike Hart called the Spartans “little brother”. Insulting? You bet. But at least even a dimwit like Hart understood we’re all in the same family. Every big brother picks on his little brother once in a while, but it takes a rare psychopath to actually stand around and cheer while someone else beats him up.
How about tomorrow you resist being that psychopath? And maybe, just maybe, things will start to look up for the whole family.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Giant Sloth Versus the Salad Shooter: A Divine Comedy
Here’s a bit of good news. Apparently there is a god. And get this: he’s a football fan.
More specifically, he’s a football fan with a bit of a prankster, stir the pot, stoke the flames sort of attitude. But just whether he’s a Big Ten fan or an SEC fan remains to be seen.
What we do know is that after a crazy ending to the craziest regular season in college football history—an ending that saw the number one and number two teams simultaneously lose for the third time this season—the stage is set to answer the following questions once and for all: Is the Big Ten slothful and weak? Is the SEC the greatest thing since the salad shooter? Is “sweater vest” or “baseball cap” the better fashion statement?
Yes, after Oklahoma beat up on Missouri and, more improbably, Pitt stunned West Virginia in a game that even the refs couldn’t win for the Mountaineers, Ohio State and LSU have landed in the national championship game—a game that will stand as the marquis match-up in a postseason promising either redemption for the Buckeyes and Big Ten fans in general, or assurance that we no longer need to defend ourselves to the media, because, well, they will have stopped caring.
For Ohio State, the scenario seems too good to be true. At the end of a rebuilding year, we get the chance to play for a national title…against the SEC champion…coached by a Michigan man. In a single sixty-minute span, we can expel the SEC demon while simultaneously delivering an extra blow to our archrival.
Predictably, the media can’t stand it. On ESPN’s Bowl Selection Special last night, Mark May couldn’t list enough reasons why the Buckeyes will get trounced by LSU. The Sporting News’s Matt Hayes dubbed the game the “Backed-in Bowl”, and Las Vegas has already made LSU a five-point favorite. Get used to it, Buckeye Nation. You’re going to hear this and much worse in coming weeks.
The good news is, after nearly a year of fending off belittling commentary, we now control our own destiny. If we beat LSU, any SEC fan or media pundit with a shred of sense will have to stop using the Florida game as the definitive statement on the Bucks. If we lose, well, get ready for another twelve months of hearing how Ohio State’s fastest player can’t outrun Dom Deloise.
But wait, there’s more.
Providence the Football Fan wasn’t content to let the drama play out on a single stage. Other postseason match-ups heighten the intrigue, from a Buckeye point of view, and with a little bit of luck—something on a parting-of-the-waters or endless-basket-of-fish scale—could revolutionize the way a critical nation views the Big Ten as a whole.
Consider:
Michigan vs. Florida in the Capital One Bowl
Remember my argument that, no matter how much you revile That School Up North, their success is good for Ohio State? Well, you can’t ask for a better example than this.
SEC fans, despite losing two out of three bowl games against the Big Ten last year, love to cite two examples as to why our conference is a glorified Pop Warner league: 1) Ohio State’s pummeling by Florida last year, and 2) Michigan’s loss to Appalachian State at the start of this season. Well, Mike Hart, here’s your final shot at glory. If you have an ounce of pride left in that diminutive body, you will rally your fellow seniors and send Lloyd Carr out with a final victory.
Can you imagine the irony? Florida getting beat by the team that got beat by Appalachian State? However would they explain that in Gainesville?
Illinois vs. USC in the Rose Bowl
That’s right. When the Buckeyes moved up to the title game, Illinois inherited our “consolation” prize. In Pasadena, they will have the unenviable task of facing a finally healthy USC team, a team that started the season ranked number one, floundered midseason amidst a sea of injuries, yet healed in time to become, once again, the media’s darling. Ask commentators who they think, regardless of ranking, is the best team in the country right now, and most will say USC.
On the surface this doesn’t seem like very good news for Illinois, and, let’s face it, it’s probably not. But what if, in this year of upsets that makes Hoosiers seem like a blasé movie, Ron Zook, Juice Williams, and crew—the only team to beat the Buckeyes this year—can pull it off? Well, that wouldn’t be so bad for conference credibility.
To this end, Buckeye fans should also be cheering for Wisconsin against SEC runner-up Tennessee in the Outback (eat a steak) Bowl, Michigan State against ACC runner-up Boston College in the Champs Sports (buy some gear) Bowl, Penn State against the Big 12’s Texas A&M in the Alamo (boys, I think we’re screwed) Bowl, Indiana against the Big 12’s Oklahoma State in the Insight (I don’t know what that is) Bowl and finally, and perhaps most importantly of all, Purdue against MAC champ Central Michigan in the Motor City (if we lose this, it’ll erase all the other ground we’ve gained in the other bowls) Bowl.
Now, naturally, none of this is a lock. Far from it. After all, we can’t control what other teams do. Not Illinois, nor—no matter how much recent dominance would suggest—Michigan. Heck, at 0-8 lifetime against the SEC in bowl games, Ohio State has enough on it’s own plate to worry about. So I’m not suggesting that the Football God, missing the glory days of Manifest Destiny, has chosen to smile upon the Buckeyes and is about to lead us into the promised land of national credibility, let alone approval. I’m just saying that, in a year when just about anything could have happened, somehow the pieces have fallen just right to make the path to the promised land visible. Even accessible.
And wouldn’t it be nice if a guy in a sweater vest, a diminutive, smack-talking running back, and a quarterback named after a beverage could lead us home?
More specifically, he’s a football fan with a bit of a prankster, stir the pot, stoke the flames sort of attitude. But just whether he’s a Big Ten fan or an SEC fan remains to be seen.
What we do know is that after a crazy ending to the craziest regular season in college football history—an ending that saw the number one and number two teams simultaneously lose for the third time this season—the stage is set to answer the following questions once and for all: Is the Big Ten slothful and weak? Is the SEC the greatest thing since the salad shooter? Is “sweater vest” or “baseball cap” the better fashion statement?
Yes, after Oklahoma beat up on Missouri and, more improbably, Pitt stunned West Virginia in a game that even the refs couldn’t win for the Mountaineers, Ohio State and LSU have landed in the national championship game—a game that will stand as the marquis match-up in a postseason promising either redemption for the Buckeyes and Big Ten fans in general, or assurance that we no longer need to defend ourselves to the media, because, well, they will have stopped caring.
For Ohio State, the scenario seems too good to be true. At the end of a rebuilding year, we get the chance to play for a national title…against the SEC champion…coached by a Michigan man. In a single sixty-minute span, we can expel the SEC demon while simultaneously delivering an extra blow to our archrival.
Predictably, the media can’t stand it. On ESPN’s Bowl Selection Special last night, Mark May couldn’t list enough reasons why the Buckeyes will get trounced by LSU. The Sporting News’s Matt Hayes dubbed the game the “Backed-in Bowl”, and Las Vegas has already made LSU a five-point favorite. Get used to it, Buckeye Nation. You’re going to hear this and much worse in coming weeks.
The good news is, after nearly a year of fending off belittling commentary, we now control our own destiny. If we beat LSU, any SEC fan or media pundit with a shred of sense will have to stop using the Florida game as the definitive statement on the Bucks. If we lose, well, get ready for another twelve months of hearing how Ohio State’s fastest player can’t outrun Dom Deloise.
But wait, there’s more.
Providence the Football Fan wasn’t content to let the drama play out on a single stage. Other postseason match-ups heighten the intrigue, from a Buckeye point of view, and with a little bit of luck—something on a parting-of-the-waters or endless-basket-of-fish scale—could revolutionize the way a critical nation views the Big Ten as a whole.
Consider:
Michigan vs. Florida in the Capital One Bowl
Remember my argument that, no matter how much you revile That School Up North, their success is good for Ohio State? Well, you can’t ask for a better example than this.
SEC fans, despite losing two out of three bowl games against the Big Ten last year, love to cite two examples as to why our conference is a glorified Pop Warner league: 1) Ohio State’s pummeling by Florida last year, and 2) Michigan’s loss to Appalachian State at the start of this season. Well, Mike Hart, here’s your final shot at glory. If you have an ounce of pride left in that diminutive body, you will rally your fellow seniors and send Lloyd Carr out with a final victory.
Can you imagine the irony? Florida getting beat by the team that got beat by Appalachian State? However would they explain that in Gainesville?
Illinois vs. USC in the Rose Bowl
That’s right. When the Buckeyes moved up to the title game, Illinois inherited our “consolation” prize. In Pasadena, they will have the unenviable task of facing a finally healthy USC team, a team that started the season ranked number one, floundered midseason amidst a sea of injuries, yet healed in time to become, once again, the media’s darling. Ask commentators who they think, regardless of ranking, is the best team in the country right now, and most will say USC.
On the surface this doesn’t seem like very good news for Illinois, and, let’s face it, it’s probably not. But what if, in this year of upsets that makes Hoosiers seem like a blasé movie, Ron Zook, Juice Williams, and crew—the only team to beat the Buckeyes this year—can pull it off? Well, that wouldn’t be so bad for conference credibility.
To this end, Buckeye fans should also be cheering for Wisconsin against SEC runner-up Tennessee in the Outback (eat a steak) Bowl, Michigan State against ACC runner-up Boston College in the Champs Sports (buy some gear) Bowl, Penn State against the Big 12’s Texas A&M in the Alamo (boys, I think we’re screwed) Bowl, Indiana against the Big 12’s Oklahoma State in the Insight (I don’t know what that is) Bowl and finally, and perhaps most importantly of all, Purdue against MAC champ Central Michigan in the Motor City (if we lose this, it’ll erase all the other ground we’ve gained in the other bowls) Bowl.
Now, naturally, none of this is a lock. Far from it. After all, we can’t control what other teams do. Not Illinois, nor—no matter how much recent dominance would suggest—Michigan. Heck, at 0-8 lifetime against the SEC in bowl games, Ohio State has enough on it’s own plate to worry about. So I’m not suggesting that the Football God, missing the glory days of Manifest Destiny, has chosen to smile upon the Buckeyes and is about to lead us into the promised land of national credibility, let alone approval. I’m just saying that, in a year when just about anything could have happened, somehow the pieces have fallen just right to make the path to the promised land visible. Even accessible.
And wouldn’t it be nice if a guy in a sweater vest, a diminutive, smack-talking running back, and a quarterback named after a beverage could lead us home?
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Go Blue? A Guide to Unconventional Cheering (Part Two)
Okay Buckeye fans, let’s face some hard truths. If you’ve picked up any newspaper in the last two months or watched five minutes of Sportscenter, you’ll have noticed that the Big Ten as a conference is lacking a little bit of respect. For this read: it has no respect. Various analysts have referred to it as the “Little Ten”, called it “by far the weakest BCS conference” and have otherwise suggested that any team playing in the Big Ten might as well have lined up a series of Pop Warner peewee teams to play this season.
This brings us to reason number two for why Ohio State fans should root for Michigan during all but one notable week of the year: We need Michigan—and all other Big Ten teams, for that matter—to be as good as possible, year in year out.
Let’s face it. That Appalachian State loss was fun—heck, I went to Boone and bought a T-shirt—but it didn’t do much for conference credibility, especially after last year’s bowl season. When Michigan then lost to Oregon in Week 2, I watched fellow Buckeye fans celebrating with a wary eye. Already, the internal conflict had begun: as fun as it is to see our archrival humiliated, what does this mean for Ohio State?
Well, ten games into the season, it appears to mean this: Ohio State is the most doubted team in America.
Every week I read articles about how they haven’t played anybody. Never mind that just who constitutes “anybody” is a constantly morphing and ultimately self-serving concept. When the Buckeyes were 5-0, analysts said the upcoming Purdue game would be their first big test. When the Bucks easily handled the Boilermakers, rather than boost the Buckeyes’ street cred, Purdue was dubbed overrated. When the Bucks were 7-0 with games against Michigan State, Penn State, Wisconsin, Illinois and Michigan remaining, the analysts said the Bucks were just getting to the meat of their schedule. And they were. But after they handled the Spartans, the analysts dismissed that game, saying, and I’m quoting someone I don’t remember from ESPN’s College Gameday here (perhaps Mark May?), “Everyone expected the Buckeyes to be 8-0 at this point, but their first test comes next week against Penn State.”
Well, the Bucks blew out Penn State at Happy Valley, and followed that up with a three-touchdown victory over Wisconsin. But of course now those teams are dubbed overrated, and the first big test is supposed to come this week against Illinois. Do you see a pattern here? In a Big Ten that is perceived as weak, the Buckeyes can’t win respect. If they lose a game, it will instantly be hailed as the just desserts of an overrated team. If they continue to win, it’s because they’re playing a bunch of cupcakes. If Ohio State beats Illinois (who also beat both Wisconsin and Penn State) and Michigan (currently ranked 12th in the BCS), will they have gained respect? Of course not. I can hear it now: Illinois doesn’t count because, well, they’re Illinois, and Illinois always sucks—never mind their record this year. And Michigan? Well, didn’t they lose to that I-AA team earlier this season? Ah, yes, that. You see my point.
I’m not saying such Big Ten bashing is just. Not for a minute. But it’s the perception that counts. As it stands, the only way Ohio State can gain national respect this year is if it runs the table and beats an SEC or Pac-10 team in the national championship game. These are the conferences currently fulfilling the role of analysts’ darlings, and to an obviously biased degree. An example or two should suffice.
Penn State and Wisconsin, who both started the year in the top twenty, have just three losses, and those to Big Ten opponents. Rather than sending the message that the Big Ten is a tough conference, however, the analysts say that the teams were simply overrated and have dropped them completely out of the rankings. Contrast this to the SEC where six three-loss teams are currently ranked in the AP Top 25, as is the Pac-10’s three-loss Cal. And remember, Cal lost to UCLA—the same UCLA that got crushed by Utah 44-6 and handed Notre Dame its only win of the season—so I don’t want to hear, oh, they were all losses to quality teams.
Analysts’ bias is leading them to confusion and even contradictions. They consider the Pac-10 a “strong” conference, yet have dubbed USC’s loss to 40-point underdog Stanford the greatest upset of all time. Here’s my question: how can losing to someone in your own conference be called the greatest upset of all time? If that’s the case, get Stanford out of your conference. Yet somehow, such a scenario doesn’t diminish the respectability of the Pac-10. It does, however, take away Michigan’s status as the victim of the biggest upset of all time—proving that, even in defeat, the analysts scorn the Big Ten.
So what’s the way out of this quagmire? Buckeye fans need Big Ten teams to win every high-profile non-conference game they play, especially bowl games. And this includes Michigan. Yes, I know it hurts. But remember, it’s all in the interest of self-preservation.
And that’s why I root for Michigan—the very team I was born to loathe—every week but one. Any Buckeye fan should be so insane.
This brings us to reason number two for why Ohio State fans should root for Michigan during all but one notable week of the year: We need Michigan—and all other Big Ten teams, for that matter—to be as good as possible, year in year out.
Let’s face it. That Appalachian State loss was fun—heck, I went to Boone and bought a T-shirt—but it didn’t do much for conference credibility, especially after last year’s bowl season. When Michigan then lost to Oregon in Week 2, I watched fellow Buckeye fans celebrating with a wary eye. Already, the internal conflict had begun: as fun as it is to see our archrival humiliated, what does this mean for Ohio State?
Well, ten games into the season, it appears to mean this: Ohio State is the most doubted team in America.
Every week I read articles about how they haven’t played anybody. Never mind that just who constitutes “anybody” is a constantly morphing and ultimately self-serving concept. When the Buckeyes were 5-0, analysts said the upcoming Purdue game would be their first big test. When the Bucks easily handled the Boilermakers, rather than boost the Buckeyes’ street cred, Purdue was dubbed overrated. When the Bucks were 7-0 with games against Michigan State, Penn State, Wisconsin, Illinois and Michigan remaining, the analysts said the Bucks were just getting to the meat of their schedule. And they were. But after they handled the Spartans, the analysts dismissed that game, saying, and I’m quoting someone I don’t remember from ESPN’s College Gameday here (perhaps Mark May?), “Everyone expected the Buckeyes to be 8-0 at this point, but their first test comes next week against Penn State.”
Well, the Bucks blew out Penn State at Happy Valley, and followed that up with a three-touchdown victory over Wisconsin. But of course now those teams are dubbed overrated, and the first big test is supposed to come this week against Illinois. Do you see a pattern here? In a Big Ten that is perceived as weak, the Buckeyes can’t win respect. If they lose a game, it will instantly be hailed as the just desserts of an overrated team. If they continue to win, it’s because they’re playing a bunch of cupcakes. If Ohio State beats Illinois (who also beat both Wisconsin and Penn State) and Michigan (currently ranked 12th in the BCS), will they have gained respect? Of course not. I can hear it now: Illinois doesn’t count because, well, they’re Illinois, and Illinois always sucks—never mind their record this year. And Michigan? Well, didn’t they lose to that I-AA team earlier this season? Ah, yes, that. You see my point.
I’m not saying such Big Ten bashing is just. Not for a minute. But it’s the perception that counts. As it stands, the only way Ohio State can gain national respect this year is if it runs the table and beats an SEC or Pac-10 team in the national championship game. These are the conferences currently fulfilling the role of analysts’ darlings, and to an obviously biased degree. An example or two should suffice.
Penn State and Wisconsin, who both started the year in the top twenty, have just three losses, and those to Big Ten opponents. Rather than sending the message that the Big Ten is a tough conference, however, the analysts say that the teams were simply overrated and have dropped them completely out of the rankings. Contrast this to the SEC where six three-loss teams are currently ranked in the AP Top 25, as is the Pac-10’s three-loss Cal. And remember, Cal lost to UCLA—the same UCLA that got crushed by Utah 44-6 and handed Notre Dame its only win of the season—so I don’t want to hear, oh, they were all losses to quality teams.
Analysts’ bias is leading them to confusion and even contradictions. They consider the Pac-10 a “strong” conference, yet have dubbed USC’s loss to 40-point underdog Stanford the greatest upset of all time. Here’s my question: how can losing to someone in your own conference be called the greatest upset of all time? If that’s the case, get Stanford out of your conference. Yet somehow, such a scenario doesn’t diminish the respectability of the Pac-10. It does, however, take away Michigan’s status as the victim of the biggest upset of all time—proving that, even in defeat, the analysts scorn the Big Ten.
So what’s the way out of this quagmire? Buckeye fans need Big Ten teams to win every high-profile non-conference game they play, especially bowl games. And this includes Michigan. Yes, I know it hurts. But remember, it’s all in the interest of self-preservation.
And that’s why I root for Michigan—the very team I was born to loathe—every week but one. Any Buckeye fan should be so insane.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Go Blue? A Guide to Unconventional Cheering (Part One)
Here’s a confession you won’t hear from many Buckeye fans: I root for Michigan every chance I get. Every week but one to be specific.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved the Appalachian State loss as much as every one else. And to be fair, my cheers are never vocal (Woody forbid!) or even very conscious. It’s more like an underlying feeling that continually, if subconsciously, suggests: victory for Michigan is good for Ohio State.
Now, before you fly off the handle and holler, “Hey man, that’s crazy talk,” I can offer two reasons for such apparent madness.
First is the old adage which so defines the rivalry, and which I cited in the last posting: namely, “the team that has the most to lose usually does.” The last thing a Buckeye team wants to face—especially a #1 ranked Buckeye team—is a desperate Wolverine team. One with absolutely nothing to lose. A rabid Wolverine, one might say, looking to claim one last victim before the season ends and somebody shoots it in the head.
Instead, we want Michigan to have as much at stake as possible, nearly as much as the Bucks in an ideal world. Consider the 2006 season, when both teams were undefeated and ranked one and two heading into the Big Game. That is the ideal set up, and result. The Buckeyes not only won the game, but in doing so denied “That State Up North” the Big Ten Championship and a shot at the national title. A textbook three-in-one victory.
Last year’s loss to the Buckeyes stung so much, Michigan stars Mike Hart, Chad Henne and Jake Long all turned down certain millions in the NFL to instead play one more year in college. Three goals guided this decision: 1) beat Ohio State (something they have yet to do in their college careers), 2) win the Big Ten, and 3) win a national championship. Well, starting 0-2 on the season with a loss to a Division 1-AA team pretty much put a damper on goal three. But goals one and two are still very much alive. If Michigan were to lose between now and the Big Game, then only goal one would remain. And it would mean more to Hart, Henne, Long and crew than ever.
Recall that, immediately following last year’s game, a hurt and confused Mike Hart, with all the maturity of a third grader who had just lost a dodge ball game at recess, stated, “If we played again it would be a whole different story,” or words to similar effect. This doesn’t say much for his sportsmanship, but it speaks volumes about how bad they want to beat the Bucks. And if a victory over the Buckeyes were the only way to salvage their season, and prove that Hart, Henne and Long weren’t complete idiots for passing up millions by foregoing last year’s draft…well, that’s a rabid Wolverine if I’ve ever seen one.
This alone should provide a compelling reason to root for “that state up north” during the regular season, even though I know how tempting it is to wish pain and humiliation on our archrival. But like a junkie satisfying his base urge with a short-term fix, such behavior might not be in the best interest of the overall organism.
Still not convinced? Tune in to the next posting for reason number two.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved the Appalachian State loss as much as every one else. And to be fair, my cheers are never vocal (Woody forbid!) or even very conscious. It’s more like an underlying feeling that continually, if subconsciously, suggests: victory for Michigan is good for Ohio State.
Now, before you fly off the handle and holler, “Hey man, that’s crazy talk,” I can offer two reasons for such apparent madness.
First is the old adage which so defines the rivalry, and which I cited in the last posting: namely, “the team that has the most to lose usually does.” The last thing a Buckeye team wants to face—especially a #1 ranked Buckeye team—is a desperate Wolverine team. One with absolutely nothing to lose. A rabid Wolverine, one might say, looking to claim one last victim before the season ends and somebody shoots it in the head.
Instead, we want Michigan to have as much at stake as possible, nearly as much as the Bucks in an ideal world. Consider the 2006 season, when both teams were undefeated and ranked one and two heading into the Big Game. That is the ideal set up, and result. The Buckeyes not only won the game, but in doing so denied “That State Up North” the Big Ten Championship and a shot at the national title. A textbook three-in-one victory.
Last year’s loss to the Buckeyes stung so much, Michigan stars Mike Hart, Chad Henne and Jake Long all turned down certain millions in the NFL to instead play one more year in college. Three goals guided this decision: 1) beat Ohio State (something they have yet to do in their college careers), 2) win the Big Ten, and 3) win a national championship. Well, starting 0-2 on the season with a loss to a Division 1-AA team pretty much put a damper on goal three. But goals one and two are still very much alive. If Michigan were to lose between now and the Big Game, then only goal one would remain. And it would mean more to Hart, Henne, Long and crew than ever.
Recall that, immediately following last year’s game, a hurt and confused Mike Hart, with all the maturity of a third grader who had just lost a dodge ball game at recess, stated, “If we played again it would be a whole different story,” or words to similar effect. This doesn’t say much for his sportsmanship, but it speaks volumes about how bad they want to beat the Bucks. And if a victory over the Buckeyes were the only way to salvage their season, and prove that Hart, Henne and Long weren’t complete idiots for passing up millions by foregoing last year’s draft…well, that’s a rabid Wolverine if I’ve ever seen one.
This alone should provide a compelling reason to root for “that state up north” during the regular season, even though I know how tempting it is to wish pain and humiliation on our archrival. But like a junkie satisfying his base urge with a short-term fix, such behavior might not be in the best interest of the overall organism.
Still not convinced? Tune in to the next posting for reason number two.
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