A Very Long Column About The Only Game That Matters
November 6, 2009
Not sure if you’ve noticed, folks, but I’ve been in somewhat of a TCFA slump of late.
For a while there—late September, early October—I felt like I was on a real roll. I mean, the words were coming pretty easy. I had all kinds of ideas. I was writing long and I was writing well. I was funny (kind of). I was poignant. I was perceptive.
Heck, I even got away with writing an entire column about Mrs. Your Editor. And you guys liked it.
And then?
Well, then things went to hell.
I ran out of ideas. Writing became a big, ugly struggle. Which made me a little tense. And angry. So I starting writing angry. Which never works. Let me tell you, folks: You can’t play football angry, and you can’t write angry. Not even Hemingway wrote angry. Angry is not constructive.
Anyway, that’s when the slump began. And I couldn't get out of it, either. TCFA became work. Which is just the worst thing in the world, because this should not be work. This is college football, after all. The Greatest Sport in the World. Writing about this game is a privilege. Yes, a privilege! Not work.
I knew this, of course. Yet I remained stuck in Slumpville (which, metaphorically, I would imagine as Starkville). Things got so bad that, last week, I began to seriously wonder if I’d ever get out of Slumpville/Starkville. I began to wonder if I’d end up like Al Groh. Or Rick Neuheisel. Or Mark Texiera (snore). Or the Cleveland Browns (snore).
I was, in a word, concerned.
There was even a moment on Sunday evening when I began to wonder: “What am I doing this for?”
Then, this week, the slump ... ended.
And do you know why it ended? Well, here’s why it ended: Because I woke up on Monday morning, took that first heavenly sip of coffee and realized all at once that this was Ohio State week.
Ohio State week!
In November.
In Happy Valley.
In the cold and muck, where SEC teams dare not tread.
For a BCS bid.
For a (possible) share of the Big Ten championship.
For bragging rights.
It would be JoePa vs. The Vest.
It would be Daryll Clark vs. Terrelle Pryor.
It would be Terrelle Pryor vs. All Of Pennsylvania.
It would be “city” (if you want to call Columbus a city) vs. “country” (yeah, well, State College is country).
It would be great uniforms vs. … great uniforms.
It would be tradition vs. tradition.
It would be Buckeyes vs. Nittany Lions.
Yeah, that’s right!
Buckeyes vs. Nittany Lions.
Ohio State week!
Those were pretty much my exact thoughts, circa 7:24 a.m., Monday morning, standing in my kitchen, a week’s worth of work away from the actual game.
And just like that, well, that was it.
Slump over.
College football buzz back.
Your Editor … re-energized.
Now, if you’ve been reading TCFA for any amount of time, folks, you probably know by now that the Penn State-Ohio State game is The Only Game Your Editor Really Cares About. I’m an Ohio guy, after all—a kid who grew up in the most football-crazy state in the country (and, yes, I believe that; tough luck, SEC).
Ohio is a state where the Browns and Bengals are important, of course, but also a state where high-school football is front-page news (yes, front page). It is a state where those schoolboys play games that matter—and I mean, really matter—in front of crowds of 20,000 or more. It is a state where high school teams named the “Tigers” actually have live Tiger mascots. It is a state where baby boys born in one small town are, upon their birth, given footballs. Right there in their incubators. No, I’m not making that up.
So, yeah, Ohians love them some football. All kinds of football.
But they love Ohio State football the most.
Let me clarify, here, folks: Whatever LSU football means in Louisiana, whatever Texas football means in Texas, whatever Tennessee football means in Tennessee, and whatever the the Mexican national soccer team means in Mexico, well, that’s what Ohio State football means in Ohio.
When I was kid, my hero was Mike Lanese, who I had pegged as the greatest wideout in the history of football. That guy could catch any ball. Any ball.
When I was a kid, I wore my Buckeyes jersey more than I wore my Browns jersey, and I wanted the Buckeyes to win on Saturday more than I wanted the Browns to win on Sunday. Because even then, I knew: An Ohio State win mattered more.
When I was a kid, I cried when Matt Frantz missed a 45-yarder that would have beaten Michigan in 1987.
When I was a kid, simply put, I loved Ohio State football more than any other team (with the possible exception of the Cleveland Indians).
And I wasn’t alone. Back home in Ohio, folks, the Buckeyes were king, and we were all loyal subjects.
Then, when it came time to go to college ... I didn’t go to Ohio State.
Instead, I went to the one school that mirrored Ohio State more than any other.
I went to Penn State.
I went to a school with a coaching legend every bit as beloved as Wayne Woodrow Hayes.
I went to a school with a stadium every bit as loud and every bit as intimidating as Ohio Stadium.
I went to a school with uniforms that were not only as awesome as Ohio State’s grand old silver-bullet duds, but actually more awesome. You can’t beat the road whites, folks. You just can’t.
I went to a school where college football Saturdays matter just as much as they matter in Columbus (which is saying something).
I went to a school that, like Ohio State, claims to have the greatest linebacking tradition in the game. It’s just that I chose the school that is correct.
I went to a school that, it just so happens, would eventually adopt Ohio State as its most hated rival. Talk to any Penn State player today, folks, and they’ll tell you the one team they want to beat more than any other is, as they say, “O-State.”
Here’s the reality: The days of Penn State-Pitt are (sadly) gone. But into that vacuum of rivalry has come Ohio State—that massive, tradition-laden school just across the border.
And, hey, why not? It just makes sense.
Penn State and Ohio State similar in so many ways that it's only natural that they now hate each other.
Huge schools. Huge foootball schools. The kind of schools that people graduate from and spend the rest of their lives talking about how great their college years were. The kind of schools where the happiness of any autumn weekend is determined almost entirely by whether or not the football team won. The kind of schools that would fit in quite nicely even down in SEC country, where they allegedly “care more” than everyone else.
It’s as simple as this, folks: Ohio State and Penn State were meant to be rivals. Today, thank the Lord, they are rivals.
And they are, quite obviously, Your Editor’s favorite rivals.
As an Ohio State kid then, but a Penn State fan now, the reality is that the one team I want to beat every year—no matter what, no matter how—is the very team I grew up rooting for.
The very team that made me love college football in the first place.
The very team that I respect more than any other—and hate more than any other.
For Your Editor, college football season—heck, the entire sports calendar—is as simple as one game.
One Saturday.
One rivalry.
One score.
The bottom line from TCFA Headquarters, folks?
There is Ohio State-Penn State.
And then there is everything else.
Out And About: News And Notes You May Have Missed
• Alabama plays LSU this week, and a lot of people would have you believe that this will be a “great game.” And I can kind of understand why. Both these teams are ranked in the Top 10 (though LSU clearly does not belong there), and the winner will all but lock up the SEC West title. You have the whole Saban Bowl angle, which is getting a bit tired, but still remains mildly interesting (SABAN is always mildly interesting, folks). Mostly, though, this game is perceived to be big because it features two highly thought-of teams from the Southeast Conference, where people "care more" and athletes run faster. LSU is 7-1. Alabama is 8-0. Both teams have won Mythical National Championships of late. I mean, it seems pretty obvious—this should be a good one, right? Wrong. It will not be a good one. And here’s why: While Alabama’s offense is not exactly the reincarnation of the 1996 Florida Gators, the LSU offense is Uttery Incapable Of Scoring Against A Good Defense (the Tigers scored a whopping 3, at home, against Florida; they also only managed 20 against the worst Georgia defense in decades). Quick, folks, name a star offensive player for LSU. Waiting … waiting … waiting. Right! You can’t. Because there aren’t any. Of course, The Hat says he isn’t concerned. Those early-season struggles? Well, his Tigers are past them. Said Hat: “I think we’ve gotten better and really answered some of those challenges beyond that Florida game. Certainly there is a new challenge with every week. I think it was important that we answer some of those issues beyond the Florida game, and we did. I feel pretty comfortable that our offense is in position to play well.” Early pre-Prognostication page prediction from Your Editor: Alabama by two touchdowns. LSU won’t score 10.
• OK, back to The Real Game of the Week. Former Ohio State linebacker and Current Meathead Chris Spielman and I don’t agree on much. But, interstingly, we do agree on this: The existence of a single gameplan that would allow Ohio State to beat Penn State on Saturday (perish the thought, folks). As I wrote on Monday, and as Spielman has been saying all week on his Columbus radio show, Ohio State can (and will) beat Penn State if Terrelle Pryor can, just for one game ... become Mike Kafka. Kafka, of course, is the Northwestern quarterback who last week sliced and diced Penn State’s top-ranked defense before going down with an injury. And how did Kafka slice and dice them, you ask? Well, he sliced and diced them like this: 1. Take snap out of shotgun with four wideouts. 2. Look for wideout (matched up with linebacker) running a five-yard slant pattern. 3. If wideout running five-yard slant patter is open, throw to him. 4. If wideout running five-yard slant pattern is not open … run! Run like the wind (preferably, upfield). It sounds pretty simple. And it was pretty simple. But you know what? It worked. It worked really well. Sean Lee and Lavarro are two of the best linebackers in the country, but they simply aren’t capable of covering wideouts in space. Northwestern saw this. Kafka exploited it. And both The Meathead and I believe Ohio State should do the exact same thing. There’s just one little problem with this plan: Pryor is not Kafka. The kid has not yet shown the ability to make quick decisions, or deliver those quick throws; plus, when he runs, he tends to run east-west, not north-south. Now will “the light come on” this week for Pryor, as The Meathhead believes it will? Well, I guess we’ll find out. I mean, I would be surprised if it did; but then again, back in 2007, the Nits made Todd Boeckman look like freaking Davey O'Brien. So I guess anything’s possible.
Quick Hits: Straight And To The Point
• Al Golden is building a winner at Temple, folks. In case you hadn’t heard, the Owls have won six straight games. Yes, six. They just beat Navy. They will likely play for the MAC Championship. And here’s something I hadn’t realized: Since joining the MAC, the Owls are 8-2 at Lincoln Financial Field (snore), their “home” field. Temple … MAC powerhouse?
• Speaking of Temple, here’s Golden, speaking to the Philadelphia Inquirer about whether the 2009 Owls will repeat the sins of his previous Owl teams, which seemed to find ways to lose close games in the most heartbreaking of ways: “We've seen that movie before. This team is different. This team won't crack." Go Owls.
• So you’ve probably heard by now that Ohio State is going ditch more than 100 years of proud tradition and wear “alternate uniforms” against Michigan this year. If you want the whole story, click over here. Needless to say, folks, I don’t like this one bit. Go Michigan.
• Ohio State quarterback Terrelle Pryor, on his preparations for this week’s game against Penn State: "I'm not getting as hyped as I used to last year—screaming and trying to get everyone pumped up. I'm just going to try to be relaxed and just always be focused. I'm not really going to get hyped. When you get overhyped as a quarterback, you lose vision of what you're supposed to do." I don't believe you, Terrelle.
• Very interesting column this week in the Los Angeles Times by Bill Plaschke. The columnist opined that USC’s struggles may be the result of the enormous turnover of late in the Trojan coaching staff—and the fact that The Devil is now left alone to run the show, without any high-level assistants confident enough to challenge him. Wrote Plaschke: “Just as his players need to examine their roles this week in the wake of the likely loss of the Rose Bowl and national championship hopes, so does Carroll. Is he giving his coaches enough room? Is he giving them enough responsibility? Is he giving them enough credit? One of the underlying themes of Carroll's motivational mantras is that nobody can do it alone. Surely he knows that this includes him.”
• Anyone who has Tim Tebow listed among the Top 3 on their Suzuki Heisman ballot is a moron. Or just in love with Tim Tebow.
• The correct Suzuki Heisman Top 3? Ryan Mathews, Fresno State; Mark Ingram, Alabama; Dion Lewis, Pitt.
• The Greatest Football Game I Ever Saw (and covered!)? Ohio State-Penn State, 1997. Won by Penn State, 31-27, featuring a jaw-dropping touchdown run by fullback Aaron Harris and another by Curtis Enis, who could have been The Greatest. Beaver Stadium may have only seated 97,000 back then, but it was never louder, never more electric. Also, that was the day I met Keith Jackson (we exchanged pleasantries at the coffee station up in the press box). Yeah, it was a good day.
• Jimmy Clausen is really good. I don’t think there’s a better passer in the country.
• TCFA Song of the Week: Joe Walsh and The James Gang, "Walk Away." In my more honest moments, and in homage to my Ohio roots, I might admit, folks, that I love me some Joe Walsh. Even at tailgates. The man is not only a great Man of Ohio, but is also still technically a junior at Kent State University.