Hooked On Lionics: Eagles 56, Lions 21

Hey kids! Especially all you young football fans out there. I know what you've been thinking. How can a team as good as your undefeated Detroit Lions lose by so many points to a team like the Philadelphia Eagles, who hadn't won a game all year? How does that make sense? How can it be?

I know how you feel, my tough little troopers. The People's Blogger feels your pain. Because your Detroit Lions are my Detroit Lions too, since long before you were born. And they've broken my heart just like yours. I'd tell you how many times but you so wouldn't believe me in a zillion years!

I cried my first Lion tears way back in 1970. Yes, before there was even ESPN. My Lions won 10 games and went to the NFC playoffs for the first time in my life. Their quarterback was Greg Landry. He wore these big black boots so he looked really slow, then when he couldn't find an open receiver he'd run and nobody would catch him. They also had a guy named Sanders who was so good he's in the Hall of Fame now. No, not Barry Sanders. Charlie Sanders. If Landry threw the ball anywhere near him, #88 would jump, leap, dive, whatever it took to come down with it.

But the most exciting player on the Lions offense was this Heisman Trophy winning tailback from Oklahoma. No, not Barry Sanders. The Heisman Trophy winning tailback from Oklahoma before him. No, not Billy Sims, the other guy--Steve Owens. You may think the Lions love drafting wide receivers. But the players they REALLY can't resist are Heisman Trophy winning tailbacks from Oklahoma. In fact, if Adrian Peterson won the Heisman instead of Troy Smith, no way would you be wearing that blue #81 jersey right now! Nuh-uh!

Anyway, back to the story. My Detroit Lions couldn't be stopped that season. They even beat the Green Bay Packers twice, by a combined score of 60-0! And although they had to travel to Dallas for the NFC playoffs, the Cowboys had never won a playoff game, ever. It was all good. So how did my Lions do? They held those Dallas Cowboys to just five points. But they didn't, couldn't score a single point themselves the whole day. Yup, my Lions lost 5-0.

I'd never heard of a football game with a final score like 5-0. As it turned out, my Lions were part of the lowest-scoring NFL playoff game ever, the first without a touchdown. And they didn't see the playoffs for another 12 years, when they became the first team to enter the post-season with a losing record in 1982. At least when the Lions fail, they don't merely fail... they make history!

See? You can even find good in the worst of times, all you have to do is look hard enough. So don't hang your replica helmet-covered heads, lads. It's time to turn that frown upside down... take those lemons and make lemon chill... find that Honolulu-blue-and-silver lining... you get the idea. There's a lesson to be learned this week too. In fact, I've already beaten you to it. No longer will you sulk in defeat. Instead, you'll grow better, stronger and most of all, wiser, after your first lesson in Lionics.

Lionics?

That's right--Lionics! Learning through Lions football. I taught myself how to multiply by seven, from counting all the touchdowns the Michigan Wolverines scored back in the early 1970s. Yes, before there were even personal computers. As you'll see by this sample quiz below, these Lions of ours can teach us way more than just simple arithmatic. I've but merely scratched the surface here, for the possibilities are indeed as endless as the pain.

So sharpen your mental pencils, boys and girls, and let the fun begin!


INTRO TO LIONICS - SAMPLE QUIZ


1. MATH--UNITS OF MEASURE

In last Sunday's loss, both quarterbacks--Philadelphia's Donovan McNabb and Detroit's John Kitna--combined for for 821 passing yards. Or roughly:

A: 1/2 mile
B: 1/4 mile
C: 3 kilometers
D: the lenghth of a standard, school-issued protractor


2. SCIENCE--GEOGRAPHY

A dejected Lions fan leaves his 50-yard-line seat at halftime and exits the stadium. If he were to travel a distance equal to the Eagles' total first-half yardage, he could:

A: enter Camden, New Jersey
B: throw himself off of the Walt Whitman Bridge
C: reach the Delaware River and wade in over his head
D: follow I-95 south, past the Wachovia Center to the Broad Street exit, then continuing north through Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park and turning right (east) on Patterson Avenue, eventually arriving at the Spectrum


3. SOCIAL STUDIES--AMERICAN HISTORY

The Lions headed into Philadelphia last Sunday with a 2-0 record. A win away from their first 3-0 start since the ________________ administration.

A: Clinton
B: Adams (Quincy)
C: Reagan
D: Carter


4. CIVICS--STATE FACTS

If the Eagles were instead named after Pennsylvania's state bird, the Lions would have been thorougly humiliated last Sunday by the Philadelphia ___________________.

A: Hummingbirds
B: Ruffed Grouses
C: Yellow-Bellied Sap Suckers
D: Pago Togafaus


5. ENGLISH--LITERARY HYPERBOLE

The Lions' next road game is October 7 in Washington, where they have not beaten the Redskins in 21 tries. The day Detroit wins in Washington will be the day

A: Hilary Clinton wins in Washington
B: xbox releases Halo 46
C: rising water levels from global warming immerse Washington, forcing the team to relocate and become the NFL's first aquatic-based franchise, the Waterworld Redskins
D: I finish staining my deck
E: all of the above, with a side order of fire and brimstone

ANSWERS: 1-a; 2=c; 3=d; 4=b; 5=e.


NOTE TO PARENTS: I did what I could. I told it like it is without actually breaking their spirit, then found a cause for hope so they may leave this site the better for it.

As your self-appointed beacon of hope, I faithfully pursue the challenge of finding that faint sliver of light within the murky depths known as Detroit Lions football. Once again we were lured with the bait of a promising season. Once again we were hooked, then reeled in and ultimately cut loose: anguished, left to flop about in our Ford Field seats like so many steelhead on the floor of a fishing boat.

Donning throwbacks in an apparent tribute to the days before color coordination, the Philadelphia Eagles seemed determined to celebrate their 75-year anniversary with an equal number of points on the scoreboard. Four minutes into the second quarter they had already hung 35 on the Jumbotron. Eventually they relented, capitulating to a conciliatory drubbing of the once unbeaten Detroiters. Powder blue with the gold 56, Powder blue with the silver 21.

In a city whose basketball and hockey teams have combined for six league championships over the past two decades, whose baseball franchise is a year removed from an American League pennant, the once storied Detroit Lions are clearly the runt of the four-sport litter. A team of silver-headed stepchildren, dragging along a string of losing seasons that reaches back into the previous millenium.

Yes, before there were even iPods.

MICHIGAN 38, IRISH 0: Somebody Call A Priest

Notre Dame couldn't have come at a better time for the Michigan Wolverines, still reeling from the dominating performances of Appalacian State and Oregon.

There. Thought I'd start yet another U-M post with something i never dreamed i'd write.

For the third straight week fans lingered around Michigan Stadium after the game, staring at the scoreboard in disbelief. (See photo of this week's version, taken by yours truly.) A typical Saturday in Ann Arbor has turned atypical, and we're just halfway through September. As a drenched Bill Murray once droned in Caddyshack, "the heavy stuff's not comin' down for a while."

The most passionate of the Wolverine faithful--you know, those runway models in the dazzling Zubaz maize-and-blue tiger stripe pajama pants and coordinating large plastic weasel hats--we need to think of them in times like these. This season hasn't been easy on their minds, much less their tickers. Licenced therapists all over Washtenaw County have ascended to single-digit speed dial priority, and spend many a billable hour tossing out coping mechanisms like beads at a parade. Yet even these psychological professionals must be grasping at straws to explain what's been going on inside the Big House. Can a football program experience mid-life crisis?

Well if that's indeed the diagnosis, than Notre Dame was the bright yellow Mustang convertible Michigan needed. Particularly on the defensive side of the ball, where the Wolverines had allowed over 1,000 yards of total offense in two weeks--a third of what they surrendered all last season. Notre Dame, on the other hand, generated a mere 266 offensive yards in their two games, and not a single net yard on the ground. This was an opportunity for atonement. And coach Lloyd Carr eyed it the way Brittany Spears eyes a cheese appetizer.

The result was a resounding 38-0 triumph, one that left the partisan Wolverine crowd appreciating every point of it. A week ago, the season lay in ruins with two humiliating losses and quarterback Chad Henne out of the lineup. Yet despite being on its death bed, this resilient team refused to follow the light, returning instead with a new lease on life and a fresh sense of purpose. So today they are proud once again, and undefeated entering the Big 10 season. Proud. Undefeated. Was it really only seven days?

Senior tailback Mike Hart backed up last week's guarantee with 187 rushing yards, effortlessly evading arm tackles and taking the heat off of quarterback Ryan Mallet, Henne's missle-launching understudy. The tall, lanky freshman returned the favor by running the offense as if it were his to run all along. Mallet succeeded by sticking to the basics: minimize mistakes, avoid risky situations and stay within the Michigan offensive philosophy. Nothing says that better than the fact that he managed to throw for three touchdows without reaching 100 yards passing. Now that's executing the Michigan offensive scheme!

In contrast, Notre Dame didn't reach 100 yards, period. Bright spots? For an offense packing all the excitement of a farm subsidy report, there were few if any. Freshman quarterback Jimmy Clausen acquired a taste for tiny black balls of ground-up tire, having been pile-driven into the faux turf eight times by tag-teaming Wolverine grapplers. Short of turning around at the snap of the ball and tackling Clausen themselves, the Irish offensive line couldn't have given the Wolverine defense an easier afternoon. Their three-game total now stands at 23 sacks allowed. And backup QB Demetrius Jones left school because he thought he wouldn't get a chance to play? The number-five guy may be getting snaps by November.

As for rushing... yeah, about that. The Irish attack netted minus six yards. This stat deserves more than a sentence worth of emphasis. Put it this way: a half-hour before kickoff Notre Dame's offensive players emerged from the Big House tunnel--already six yards ahead of where they'd end up four quarters later. Those same players then ran over toward their supporters at the southern end for pre-game warmups, entering an opposing end zone for the first time all season. And the last time on this afternoon.

If there were a Notre Dame "highlight", it had to be the brilliantly executed, 4th-and-11 fake punt in the second quarter that couldn't have been timed any better. (Then again, successful fake kicks always seem well-timed in retrospect, don't they?) Momentum was squarely on the winged-helmet side of the field; those in the freshly sprayed gold helmets needed a sign, any sign, to tell them they still had a chance. The Irish punter did that flailing-arm jump that fools no one on the field but conveniently tells those of us in row 78, "Hey, there's a fake going on here so wake up!" Travis Thomas took the short snap and scampered 13 yards. The play now stands as Notre Dame's longest from scrimmage all season.

Credit Irish coach Charlie Weis for the call--not many of us are keen enough to catch an 0-2 Michigan team being overconfident in the first half. Then again, you have to be pretty bad to make an 0-2 team overconfident in the first place. Perhaps Weis actually anticipated being down by more than three touchdowns halfway through the second quarter, so he had the play drawn up and waiting.

No matter. In the end, all the trick play did was wake up the Wolverines like nothing Coach Carr could say, throw, hit or bite the head off of during halftime. After 30 minutes, Michigan's lead represented a 66-point turnaround over that of the previous week. The defense, in need of redemption after surrendering 73 points to App State and Oregon, refused to yield throughout the second half. The reserves also held the listless Irish at bay, keeping them from the idea of even a long field-goal. Shoe 38, Cockroach 0.

As humbling as this 2007 campaign has been for Wolverine fans, it could be worse. Just imagine following the Irish. In a rivalry between the two winningest programs, the last few renewals have turned flat-out ugly for the domers. Three of the last four seasons have seen the Wolverines whip up on Notre Dame, with last year's 47-21 rout sandwiched by identical 38-0 Ann Arbor beatdowns.

Wake up the echoes? Not hardly. Those echoes need defibrillation. They're on life support, and calls are going out to the next of kin. An Irish student watched his band's post-game performance wearing a green shirt, impulsively edited with masking tape, that seemed to say it all.

It read, "Play like a pion today."

OREGON 39, MICHIGAN 7: Did You Just Say That?

On sidewalks all over Ann Arbor, in the sports bars that have become a cultural staple of midwest, up and down the halls of the business world, strange things are coming out of the mouths of the Michigan faithful. Things no Wolverine fan would ever dream of saying in the middle of September. Much less at all.

"When does basketball practice start?"

Yes, forty straight non-losing seasons can create a seismic pressure for success. The specter of a 4-8 or 5-7 campaign still seems unfathomable, despite this two-week surge of negative momentum. As strange as the losing is, it's this dogs-and-cats-living-together world of the unknown that's doing a number on the brains of maize-and-blue dobbers. The cupcakes who once lost games in Michigan Stadium from sheer awe, they're making history now. The sure victories are turning into resounding defeats. Suddenly, nothing is certain any more.

"Too bad Northwestern isn't a home game."

Despite the impressive performances we've seen from Michigan's opponents, one constant seems to be the Wolverines' inability to respond like, well, Wolverines. Players and coaches spent their third straight game week not prepping but rather, pontificating. This was yet another game where merely winning wasn't enough. Nnnnnnope. A statment had to be made.

Remember how disappointed the Wolverines were to be relegated to Pasadena last season? They let the world know the goal was not simply to beat USC, but to win by such a large margin that those who voted Florida into the BCS Championship game would be shamed at the thought of slighting the mighty Big Ten. The only thing shameful was the outcome: USC 32, Michigan 18.

Then, enter tiny Appalacian State. The little opponent that couldn't. Even Michigan coach Lloyd Carr spoke of his eagerness to get reserves in the game as quickly as possible. So how'd all that turn out? Here's a hint. If the nation's fifth-ranked team plays a Division 1-AA opponent and the following week it's a topic on Regis & Kelly, that's not good. App State 34, Michigan 32.

So once again this week, the talk this week wasn't of merely beating their opponent, in this case the Oregon Ducks. It was about showing the college football world who the Wolverines really were. Uh, careful what you wish for. Look kids... Big Ben... Parlaiment...

"How many wins do you need to be bowl-eligible again?"

By halftime, as it was last week, the road team was on pace to score 60. Even the Wolverines' storied "Point-A-Minute" heritage is no longer safe. But unlike last week, Michigan responded with a lifeless offense and a quarterback who couldn't walk much less throw. Once again, the defensive philosophy seemed to be this: watch the other team execute, then say, "Wow! Did you see that?"

The Ducks had nearly 400 yards of total offense at intermission, and ran the lead to 25. Effortlessly. Preseason All-America candidate Chad Henne went down with an undisclosed leg injury, and hopes turned to freshman Ryan Mallet. At least Coach Carr got his wish after all. This backup got plenty of snaps. Problem was, Michigan was the one on the business end of a blowout. And Wolverine fans--the mascochistic few who toughed it out--sat through a feature-length movie's worth of garbage time, Oregon style. The second half more closely resembled an NFL preseason game. In either case, winning wasn't part of the plan.

"When do Motor City Bowl tickets go on sale?"

For once, the Oregon Ducks left their bright yellow unis behind and let the scoreboard do the highlighting. (See photo, taken by yours truly, then note irony of "Hail To The Victors" sign underneath.) The school that made a name for itself with flash and blatant disregard for the sanctity of a traditional uniform--on this day they chose the low profile route. The Ducks showed up white-on-white, sans pants stripe--a simple script "Oregon" down each leg serving as such--and what appeared to be a tire tread on on each knee. A fitting footprint for a an offense that drove up and down the Big House balled-tire turf all day long, at will. In fact, they actually let the proverbial foot off the accelerator in the final quarter, out of pity.
Hot Knife 39, Butter 7. It was downright surreal. Oregon, taking mercy on mighty Michigan. To their credit, the Wolverine defensive reserves pulled themselves together for a goal-line stand in the waning minutes, then watched a subsequent Oregon field goal plunk off the right upright. Prompting one Michigan fan to launch into yet another momentary lapse of perspective.

"That's right--NO ONE puts 40 on us in OUR house!!!"

APPALACIANS 34, MICHIGAN 32: Bo Told You So

Ohio State's legendary lunatic, Wayne Woodrow Hayes, voiced his displeasure with the forward pass by saying: "When you throw the ball, three things can happen. And two of them are bad."

Woody's desciple from the state to his north, the late Bo Schembechler, held a similar opinion about the practice of padding a school's schedule with "cupcakes"--opponents that served as nothing more than sparring partners, providing a team with easy wins. During his reign at the University of Michigan, first as head football coach and then as athletic director, Bo made a point of welcoming any and all non-conference opponents to the Big House. Each year the Wolverines would play the likes of Miami (the Coral Gables version, not Oxford, OH), Florida State, Colorado, UCLA, Washington--all among the nation's top programs at the time.

The Wolverines did capitalize on name equity for the benefit of home cooking (rarely was there so much as a home-and-home deal, as most of these series were played exclusively in Ann Arbor). Nonetheless, this "taking on all comers" approach provided the program with something much more valuable than compelling September sports programming: it paved the way to a successful campaign. The greater the number of ranked opponents on a given schedule, the greater the likelihood of a "special" season. Michigan's best teams since the Bo-vs.-Woody era--1980, 1985, 1988-89, 1991, 1997--all happened to feature formidable non-conference slates.

Once that first Mid-American Conference opponent strolled out from the Michigan Stadium tunnel in September of 1995, Schembechler told anyone willing to listen that these "cupcake" games served no positive purpose. Anyone who boasts about Michigan's 10-0 record against the MAC conference conveniently fails to recognize its 4-6 record the week after playing a MAC opponent.

So earlier this year, when the opportunity presented itself to add an unprecedented eighth home game to the 2007 schedule, athletic director Bill Martin responded with an unprecedented move: he invited a Division 1-AA school. But this wasn't just any "cupcake", he would insist. This was the defending D-1AA National Champion Appalacian State Mountaineers.

If Bo were alive when this contest was booked, he'd have been first to ask, what good can come of this? Victory means nothing when it's an expected result. And unlike the MAC schools, a win over this opponent doesn't even count toward the BCS standings. Even a close call can be catestrophic, as evidenced by last year's nail-biter over Ball State. And any time you take the field, you run that slimmest of slim possibilities of coming in second.

Coming in second is precisely what happened on the ground-up Goodyear surface of the Big House on September's first Saturday. Someone forgot to tell Appalacian State that they were cupcakes. The players and coaches seemed to be under the impression that they were fresh off of a 14-1 campaign that saw them claim their second straight national title. (See photo, taken by yours truly.)

The Wolverines, who clearly got the memo, showed up ready to do a quick, pre-Labor Day walk-through. Yet the afternoon saw them stunned, bewildered and beaten, their jaws dropped in collective chagrin. Not since the most recent "To Catch A Predator" episode of Dateline have we witnessed so many "this isn't supposed to happen!" expressions in the same place. You'd think this team would have learned about overlooking opponents after last year's Rose Bowl, when they seemed more concerned with calculating the margin of victory needed to impress the voters than preparing for USC. (The Trojans beat them soundly, 32-18.)

On this gorgeous first day of September, instead of turning in a bold, polished performance, Michigan looked like an unprepared understudy at a Shakespeare festival, ad-libbing Hamlet's lines. The coaching staff was unsure of situations until each smacked them in the face (a fourth-down, goal-line situation at the end of the first half was met with surprise more than anything else); players were unsure of when to take the field or when to leave it (twice they lined up a player short on offense); star quarterbacks were unsure of which play to run (Chad Henne called time-out before the first play of the second half); and certain star running backs were unsure whether their number would be called (or whether they'd be in the lineup at all) during crucial stretches of the game.

Inside the historic stadium that was kicking off its 80th birthday--the game tickets bore an indelible image of Michigan's storied past, that of its first Heisman Trophy winner, Tom Harmon--the twin scoreboards read, 28-14, with two minutes remaining in the second quarter. Today, the "point-a-minute team" was not the one in maize and blue.

When the Aquatred crumbs settled, the little team that couldn't, did. The easy win, wasn't. Appalachian State's starters ran toward the South end zone to salute their fans, who drove, flew and did everything but mall-walk from tiny Boone, North Carolina, to witness some history of their own. Cheerleaders hugged anyone in a white uniform. The jubilant players and their equally-giddy coaching staff held a spontaneous team photo session on the maize "M" at midfield, while over their shoulders the Jumbotron's earth-shaking message filled the frame. David 34, Goliath 32.

So maybe Bo was right after all. Maybe Michigan should remove the "cupcakes" from future schedules for good. The irony of the old man's words belies one eerie truth not even he could foretell: in three tries, the Wolverines have not been victorious since Coach Bo passed away.