Farewell, Big Ten 2009
November 20, 2009
I preface this column by noting that, yes, I understand that college football season does not actually end this weekend. I understand that the Big Ten (sigh) is the only conference in America that actually wraps up its schedule before Thanksgiving. And I understand that, because most of you have at least another couple weeks to enjoy your teams, you may find it rather difficult to relate to this column.
That being said, I don’t care.
Because here in this space, folks, I write from the heart. Each week, you get The Unvarnished Your Editor—whatever I happen to be feeling on Thursday, well, that’s what you read here on Friday.
And this Thursday? Well, this Thursday I find myself in a Jim Delany-Generated Cloud of Confusion And Low-Grade Depression. Because this Saturday is the last Saturday of the 2009 Big Ten college football season. Which means, of course, that this is the last Saturday of Penn State football season. Which means this is also the last Saturday of college football 2009 that I actually care about.
There is the bowl game to look forward to, of course, but all of the joys and thrills and highs and lows of college football Saturdays—you know, all of the stuff that makes this sport the greatest sport in the world—well, all of that ends this weekend. I mean, there’s not even an 8 p.m. Big Ten game to look forward to. The Big Ten season will effectively be over circa 7 p.m. Saturday.
Again, because of Jim Delany.
Thanks, Jim Delany.
But I digress. The point of this column is not to lament the moronic decision-making of Jim Delany. Rather the point of this column is to lament that this Saturday is the last true Saturday of my college football season. It’s sad, folks.
Very sad.
[dramatic pause]
Of course, you probably know what happens now, folks.
You probably know that, because I spent the first 305 words of this column grumbling about the impending end of the season, I will spend the next 305 words (or 1,005 words) writing about how I intend to cut through that end-of-season-fueled depression with some kind of special end-of-season celebration here in The Beautiful Wissahickon Valley.
Well, you’re right. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.
And though I’m not entirely sure you particularly care how I intend to spend My Last True College Football Saturday, well, I’m going to tell you anyway. Because that’s what I feel like doing, and I don’t have anything else particularly interesting to say.
That being said, I present to you … Your Editor’s End-Of-Big-Ten-Season Saturday Itinerary, 2009 Edition.
6:17 a.m.: Awake! I can’t drag myself out of bed at 7:15 on a Wednesday but I sure can wake up happy and hell-bent on having a good day at 6:17 on a Saturday. Why 6:17? Simple, folks: The six o’clock hour because I don’t want to wait until the seven o’clock hour to wake up on My Last True College Football Saturday. And the 17th minute of the six o’clock hour because Penn State quarterback Daryll Clark wears No. 17, and seeing as he is one of the best quarterbacks in recent Penn State history, well, he deserves a tribute. Here’s to you, Daryll. I’ll toast you while drinking my coffee and listening to Willie Nelson and feeling depressed about My Last True College Football Saturday.
6:21 a.m.: Drinking coffee, listening to Willie Nelson, feeling depressed about My Last True College Football Saturday and toasting Daryll Clark, No. 17.
6:30 a.m.: Checking email. Checking the news. Fixing the spelling errors that I missed in TCFA while editing on Thursday night (Your Editor has no editor, folks). Reading David Jones’ latest column in the Patriot-News. Reading ESPN.com and wretching at all the SEC references. Reading Mr. College Football and wretching at all the SEC references. Reading the Cleveland Plain Dealer and wretching at all of the references about Ohio State winning “five straight” Big Ten titles, even though they didn’t actually win those titles in 2005 and 2008, because Penn State did. Wonder: “How can one actually claim a co-championship with a team that beat them?” More wretching.
6:45: Ever-Demanding Anna comes downstairs and demands juice, breakfast and her “shows.” I assure you, folks, these “shows” do not include Big Ten Cookout. Your Editor caves and does as told.
7:14: Mrs. Your Editor, Princess Leah and Young Jack come downstairs. Jack, well trained at this point, is sporting his fancy new (road white) No. 22 Evan Royster jersey. Mrs. Your Editor asks Your Editor, “Did you make my coffee?” (She currently drinks decaf, folks; Your Editor is vehemently opposed to any liquid that doesn't contain some manner of chemical). Your Editor forced to answer: “No.” Mrs. Your Editor: “Well, what have you been doing down here for the past few hours?” Your Editor: “Drinking coffee, listening to Willie Nelson, feeling depressed about My Last True College Football Saturday and toasting Daryll Clark, No. 17.” Mrs. Your Editor internally joyful at end of college football season. God Bless her, folks. She is a saint.
8 a.m.: “OK, kids, let’s get dressed!” Ever-Demanding Anna, eyeing Your Editor with great suspicion: “Why?” Tinge of anger in her voice. Your Editor (in the tone of the dad in “A Christmas Story, right before they get Chinese food for Christmas dinner): “We are going out … to eat!” Mrs. Your Editor: “What?”
8:45: Your Editor and family roll into Halligan’s Pub, King Of All Beautiful Wissahickon Valley Taverns, for … breakfast. Yes, folks. Halligan’s now serves breakfast. Mrs. Your Editor loves going out for breakfast. Your Editor loves taverns. The kids love whatever we tell them to love (except, of course, for Ever-Demanding Anna, who decides on her own what she loves, and believe me, it is a very short list). What better way to kick off My Last True College Football Saturday than breakfast at a tavern? What better way, folks? What better way?
9:15: Wondering why I needed an Irish coffee at breakfast.
10 a.m.: College GameDay. Or Big Ten Cookout, featuring Melanie Collins, which has almost zero chance of being picked up next year. Here’s the thing, though, folks: This show can work. It definitely can work. But it can’t work if it airs directly oppose College GameDay, the most popular show in the history of sports-related television. I mean, who made that decision? Oh, that’s right. Jim Delany.
10:30 a.m.: Dinardo.
10:35-11:48 a.m.: Playing catch with Young Jack aka No. 22 Evan Royster in Your Editor’s Backyard. Ever-Demanding Anna sees us playing and demands that she get to wear her jersey, too. Wish granted. Ever-Demanding Anna aka No. 12 Stephon Morris joins in game of catch, even though she can’t catch, and objects to anyone tackling her, taking the ball away from her or in general bothering her. She’s the best, folks. Leah watches from Your Editor’s deck, soaking it all in, and learning from the Ever-Demanding Anna. Expect numerous mentions of The Extremely Demanding Princess Leah circa 2011, folks.
11:49 a.m.: College GameDay picks. Corso puts on the headgear. Over on Big Ten Network, Dinardo does not. Another miscalculation by Jim Delany.
Noon: Ohio State-Michigan! Let me wax poetic for a moment about the greatness of this rivalry, folks, which is the greatest rivalry in all of sports, no matter what The Worldwide Leader In Pretending That The Yankees And Red Sox Actually Dislike Each Other says. Do you realize the titanic stature each of these schools, folks? I mean, do you really? Back when the South was still rebuilding from the ass-whuppin’ we put on them back in the day (no Southern Speed in war, I guess), Fielding Yost was coaching Michigan to the greatest run of success that college football has ever seen. Ever! Ever. I mean, thee man single-handedly tilted the balance of power in college football from the Northeast (snore) to the Midwest (yeah). For that, folks, the man deserves a Nobel Prize (hey, Obama won one), because he is the only man in history who has successfully made the Midwest the power center of anything. Anyway, Michigan has been winning a whole bunch of football games pretty much ever since. In fact, Big Blue is now The Winningest Program In College Football History. As for Ohio State? Well, they’re the No. 5 winningest program in college football history (Penn State is No. 7, in case you’re keeping score at home; Your Editor is). Yep, the No. 1 program of all time against the No. 5 program of all time. Woody. Bo. Fritz Crisler. Archie Griffin. Desmond Howard. Charles Woodson. Eddie George. Rex Kern. Mike Leach. The Big House. The Horseshoe. About 5,000 Big Ten championships. The Ten-Year War. Good stuff, folks. If you claim to love football but don’t watch this game every year, then you don’t love college football.
12:17 p.m.: Michigan scores first touchdown. More will follow. Because they’re going to win. Fortieth-anniversary karma, folks. Fortieth anniversary karma.
3:15 p.m.: The denizens of Happy Valley—the underclassmen watching up the dorms or out in those creaky houses on West College, the upperclassmen pounding Yeunglings at Zeno’s and Pickle’s and Café 210 and The Lion’s Den, and the townies chilling out at The Autoport—erupt in joyous celebration as Michigan seals a 24-12 win over Ohio State with a Tate Forcier touchdown scramble. In Ohio, grown men weep. And I revel in their misery.
3:30 p.m.: The Battle for the Land Grant Trophy! Penn State at Michigan State! It may not be a rivalry yet, but this game is almost always entertaining (especially when played up there in East Lansing, folks). And this one will be entertaining, too. Potentially very entertaining. Read into that what you will.
7 p.m.: Big Ten season over. Stare blankly at television. Wonder: “Where did it all go? Where did it all go?”
7:05 p.m.: Elaborately prepared dinner that nobody but Your Editor will eat. Stare blankly at food.
8 p.m.: Bedtime for Young Jack aka Evan Royster, Ever-Demanding Anna aka Stephon Morris and Princess Leah aka Soon To Become Extremely Demanding Princess Leah. Jack goes willingly. The other two, no so much. Girls are difficult, folks.
8:05-11 p.m.: Reflection time. Get a fire going out in the fire pit. Grab a Victory Hop Devil. Or two. Turn on some Drive By Truckers. Sit by fire. Think back on the Big Ten season that was. Appreciate the Big Ten season that was. Ohio State’s battle with USC. Michigan’s win over the Domers. Illinois’ collapse.Purdue’s win over the Buckeyes. Indiana’s multiple near-misses. Iowa’s multiple near-misses. The Nits’ big day in Ann Arbor. Ohio State’s big day in Happy Valley. Iowa’s tremendous effort in Columbus. Wonder, again, where it all went. Wonder why Jim Delany makes Big Ten season end so early. Silently curse Jim Delany. Silently curse end of Big Ten football season.
Pause.
Sigh.
Look up at sky.
Reflection.
Acceptance.
Big Ten season over.
But ... bowl games yet to come.
Go Big Ten.
Out And About: News And Notes You May Have Missed
• How bad is the Big 12 North, folks? This bad: If Kansas State beats Nebraska this week, the Wildcats win the division and play for the Big 12 Championship. And if Kansas State loses this week? Well, if they lose this week, they won’t even be bowl-eligible. That’s right, folks. Kansas State is just 6-5 and yet they are one win away from playing for the Big 12 title. Of course, while the Wildcats are quite clearly a stunningly average football team (and in that sense, would fit in quite nicely with most of the SEC), it must be noted that Bill “I Hate The Media More Than Anyone Has Ever Hated The Media” Snyder has pulled off another absolute miracle out there in The Real Manhattan. A quick refresher on K-State football, folks: For roughly the entire history of college football, the Wildcats were the worst team in the country. Downright terrible, in fact. They had one bowl appearance ever. They had one league title ever. In the late 1980s they lost 27 straight. Then Snyder arrived in 1989 and engineered the greatest turnaround—and yes, that’s exactly what it was—that the sport has ever seen. He won three Big 12 North titles, one Big 12 North championship, two Fiesta Bowls and one Cotton Bowl. For a time, Snyder had turned K-State into one of the best programs in the country. Then, in 2005, he retired, citing exhaustion. Predictably, the program went right back in the toilet—and right back to the bottom of the Big 12. This year, Snyder returned to The Real Manhattan and, against all odds, took the same bunch of guys who were downright awful last year and made them halfway decent. I mean, 6-5 is a major achievement given the material he had to work with, folks. That being said, even The Media-Hating Snyder understands that his team is in an extremely odd situation this week. Said the coach: “I have never been involved in a ballgame in which bowl eligibility and a division championship were on the line at the same time.” That’s about as colorful a quote as Bill Snyder will ever deliver. So I had to use it.
• I suppose I should weigh in here with my thoughts on whether or not The Snake-Oil Salesman Wearing A Wizard’s Hat should be removed from his position up yonder in Ann Arbor. So here, folks, are my thoughts on whether or not The Snake-Oil Salesman Wearing a Wizard’s Hat should be removed from position up yonder in Ann Arbor: No, he should not. Why should he not? Two reasons: 1. I don’t advocate for anyone to lose their job. It’s just not something you should root for.; 2. Despite his horrible record so far in Big Blue country (8-16, if you’re counting), despite the fact that, if he loses on Saturday to Ohio State, The Snake-Oil Salesman will become the first Michigan coach in the history of the program to lose to Ohio State in his first two meetings with them and the first coach in Michigan history to go lose seven Big Ten games in a season, and despite the fact that he’s a complete mess off the field (when he tries to talk about how well he “understands” the Ohio State-Michigan rivalry, he sounds exactly like John Cooper), I think still The Snake-Oil Salesman can coach. I mean, let’s fact it, folks, the guy did not arrive in Ann Arbor and immediately forget how to win football games. He’s always been a winner. He can be a winner again. But the only way that’s going to happen is if people up there in Michigan give the guy a freaking chance, already. I mean, let’s just wipe out the 2008 season completely; it’s irrelevant. The Snake-Oil Salesman had no talent to work with. None. That wasn’t his fault. It was Lloyd “Grumpy” Carr’s fault. This season? Yeah, you can pin it on The Snake-Oil Salesman. But let’s call 2009 what it is: His first real season in Ann Arbor. Next year will be better, folks. I promise you. Next season will be better. Oh, also, he’s going to beat Ohio State this week. Which should help. Michigan 24, Ohio State 12.
Quick Hits: Straight And To The Point
• TCFA offers its sincere condolences to former Ohio State linebacker Chris Spielman and his family. Chris' wife, Stefanie, died on Thursday after a 12-year fight with breast cancer. Chris and Stefanie raised more than $6 million for breast cancer research during their fight.
• I would just like to say once more, folks, that if you’re ever up in State College during college football season and need a place to watch the games, you should look no further than Bill Pickle’s Taproom. The place is just outstanding. And it appears to be populated mostly by adults. Since we’re all old now, that’s an important consideration.
• Nobody in the Ohio State family hates Michigan more than former Buckeye coach Earle Bruce, who compiled an 81-26-1 record in his time at Ohio State, including a 5-4 mark against the Wolverines. Though Bruce was fired by Ohio State, he remains intensely loyal to the Buckeyes, and each year addresses the team the week before the Michigan game. What did Bruce to have say about That State Up North this week? Well, this: “We want to beat them every year, every year, every year. And that's what we're doing. I'm all for five in a row, six in a row, seven in a row, and I'd be fine with a couple of coaches getting fired. That wouldn't be bad either.” Like I said, folks, the man hates Michigan.
• It should be noted, by the way, that Michigan fans don’t hate Ohio State nearly as much as Ohio State fans hate Michigan. That’s always struck me as very odd.
• Here’s Penn State quarterback Daryll Clark, talking about The Land Grant Trophy: "The Land Grant Trophy is in our locker room right now. We're seeing it every day this week. They put it in the locker room for that reason, to let everyone know how important it is and how far this rivalry goes back." Please note, folks, that this rivalry goes back all the way to ... 1993.
• Did you feel the earth shift slightly earlier this week, folks? Yeah, well, there was a reason for that: The Worldwide Leader In Tim Tebow dropped The Chosen One all the way down to No. 4 in its Heisman Watch. Over the objections of Pat Forde, I’m sure. This gives me faith that The Good Folks The Worldwide Leader In Ignoring Reality Who Are Not Named Pat Forde actually do watch what happens on the field on Saturdays. Occasionally.
• Here’s Notre Dame Athletic Director Jack Swarbrick, talking about the Irish’s loss to Navy: “We didn't see that coming." That doesn’t sound good for the Arrogant One.
• Here’s Cincinnati coach Brian “I Can’t Wait Until I’m The Coach at Notre Dame” Kelly, addressing the fact that his name has come up (repeatedly) in conversations about the Notre Dame job: "Obviously I have great deal of respect for Notre Dame and what they’ve accomplished and the mission of their academics, the student-athletes, and things of that nature.” In other words: “See ya, Cincinnati!”
• The finalists for the Johnny Unitas Golden Arm Award were announced this week. They are: Colt McCoy of Texas, The Chosen One, Dan LeFevour of Central Michigan, Thaddeus Lewis of Duke (!) and Zac Robinson of Oklahoma State. No Case Keenum. No Jimmy Clausen. No Kellen Moore. What a joke. And why in God’s name is The Chosen One a finalist? Look at his numbers, folks! He’s not had a good year! Does anyone else notice this? Anyone? Anyone?
• Upset alert: Virginia over Clemson. At Death Valley. Just because it’s Clemson. And also because Al Groh always rallies to save his job at the end of the year.
• TCFA Song of the Week: “I Want To Sing That Rock N’ Roll” by Gillian Welch and David Rawlings. Their voices sound perfect together and Rawlings plays wicked guitar solo. Also, when Gillian Welch sings, it looks like she might have a mouth full of chewing tobacco. Kind of nails the whole bluegrass thing, folks.