Indianoplace like it

Okay, forget the elephant in the room. I'll go to the obvious question. Why did it take until 2011 for a Big 10 Championship Game?

As two dead-even teams traded touchdowns and their fans took turns taunting each other, the one thing fans from both party schools could agree upon, was that this was one hell of an evening. The well-deserved rematch between #11 Michigan State and #15 Wisconsin didn't end on the booth review of a Hail Mary pass, but it was just as captivating.

In a town seemingly created for an event like this, in a stadium that resembles a super-sized basketball arena more than anything football related, mighty Monte Ball was at his prolific best with four touchdowns, the last a seven-yard run (see my pic) that all but delivered his Wisconsin Badgers The-Trophy-Formerly-Known-As-The-Paterno-Championship Trophy with a 42-39 victory. Roses are red once again, as they are found in nature. And they are currently flying out of florists' front doors all over the city of Madison.

The last-second gift this time went to the Badgers, but with nearly two minutes left. After the Spartan defense stiffened and stopped Ball on a critical third-down run, Keshawn Martin took the Wisconsin punt and cut swiftly to the right before bolting and bouncing his way to the Badger 2-yard line. Were it not for the presence of a tiny yellow handkerchief in the center of the field, the MSU faithful would have been calling travel agents and booking flights to Los Angeles for the holidays.

Yet there it sat, burning a hole in the field turf and through the hearts of all who bled green and white. Roughing the kicker on the defense, fifteen yards, first down Wisconsin. Coach Mark Dantonio called for a punt block and Isaiah Lewis streaked past Badger punter Brad Norman. He appeared to make contact in the replay, and Norman dropped like a drunk coed to erase any doubt in the mind of the back judge behind him.

Two schools partied, tailgated and traded compliments all afternoon and into the evening, packing every pub within a country mile of Lucas's oil farm. Representation from other schools was scant and fleeting. More like fleeing, in the case of a lone Wolverine fan who brought green- and red-clad supporters together and generated a mutual taunt worthy of an opposing player's trip to the penalty box inside Yost Arena. Two Nebraska jackets were spotted among the crowds, as was a purple Northwestern hat.

One thing is certain: anyone who wasn't there to watch his team that night, wishes he was.

Good 40, Evil 34

From Bad to Ill

The sun disappeared behind the closed end of Memorial Stadium, sending an explosion of color into the darkening Champaign sky, it seemed to take the the recent perception of Michigan football with it. Each week the Wolverine offense grows more confident, more lethal. Each game the defense has grown more durable, more resilient. And the results are becoming more evident, at the very point in the season where the wheels have come off the other three teams of the post=Lloyd Carr era.

On this evening Michigan took care of business, defeating Illinois by a very football-like 31-14 score. Whereas last season's 67-65 double-overtime victory required Yost-like point-a-minute proficiency to overcome an equally porous point-a-minute defense, this win featured smothering defense, plain and simple. On the scoreboard alone, it translates into a one-season, 51-point improvement.

That alone is cause for a spit take.

The Wolverine defense, ranked in the triple digits overall just a year ago, is now ranked in the top ten nationally in scoring and rushing yards per game. Aside from a garbage-time touchdown in the final minutes, this suddenly savage and swarming machine commandeered by former Florida Gator and Baltimore Ravens defensive coordinator Greg Mattison had shutdown mode fully engaged, surrendering a mere seven points. On the road.

I must say, this game was a treat for me to attend. First, because it allowed me to cross off yet another Big 10 stadium from my bucket list. I've now seen Michigan visit every conference opponent except Penn State, Indiana, Iowa and Nebraska; I've been inside every stadium except those at Penn State, Indiana and Nebraska; and I've visited every campus except Bloomington and Lincoln.

But mostly because, if all goes according to coach Brady Hoke's plan, if this team goes on to finish the season on a high note and maybe even win a New Year's Day bowl game, if next year's team takes it up a notch and not too far down the road, and if the University of Michigan once again restores a century-long tradition as a perennial national power, we could look back to this game as the point where it all began.

And when the question arises in some midwestern sports bar, or some spectator in the row in front of you asks, "Remember the point where it all began? Where our defense flat out shut down the mighty Illini" You can proudly say, "That was ILL!"

Four? For the love of cool unis

Could it really be? Could a group of football players graduate from the University of Michigan without beating their in-state rivals even once?

Well, unless there's a red shirt or med school involved, the answer is an unfortunate "yes".

Yesterday the Wolverines tasted defeat for the first time, in the most hospitable of confines, smoke-stack-less Spartan Stadium. Under-rated and under-appreciated #23 Michigan State used two key mistakes to turn a stalemate into check mate and ink a fourth straight "L" into the Wolverine record books with a 28-14 win over 11th-ranked Michigan.

For the second straight season the Spartans did what few defenses have been able to do even once: make laceless quarterback Denard Robinson look like a typical quarterback. The junior blur was held to just 165 yards of total offense, barely more than half his season average of 308. Michigan State nearly equalled Robinson's numbers in penalties alone, getting flagged 13 times for 124 yards--including an alarming six personal fouls.

But what did in the white-on-white Wolverines, who wore white pants for the first time in 36 years (see photo of freshman Rick Leach, who also spent an afternoon eluding Spartan defenders during Michigan's 16-6 win in 1975) were two costly errors at two key moments in the contest. First, an ill-executed and questionable fourth down play inside the MSU 10-yard line. And second, a play in which quarterback Denard Robinson succeeded to make something happen, just not for the maize and blue. And white.

In Mistake #1, the Wolverines trailed 14-7 early in the fourth quarter and faced fourth and 1 from inside the Spartan 10-yard line. Michigan State cornerback Johnny Adams blew up the play, first timing the snap, then seeing through Robinson's fake handoff and dropping Michigan's signal-caller for a 10-yard sack, one of seven for 62 yards on the day.

As deflating as that was, Mistake #2 was downright demoralizing.

With less than five minutes remaining and the Wolverines within seven, a scrambling Robinson was met by Allen and his sophomore counterpart, linebacker Max Bullough. Just beforehand, he dished the ball into the awaiting arms of Spartan safety Isaiah Lewis, who never broke stride as he sprinted 39 yards for what would become the final point os the day.

Spartan stalwart Edwin Baker was the star on this sunny afternoon, blasting for 167 yards on 20 carries as once again, the school with the advantage on the ground (MSU, 213-82) emerged victorious. enior quarterback Kirk Cousins (see my pic) outperformed his modest statistics with touchdown passes on third downs, the second a 13-yard strike to wideout Keshawn Martin to grow the MSU lead to 21-7.

On a day where the most visible clash was Nike Combat versus Adidas Classic Throwback, the school in the strange green, gold and black unis took care of the school in the all-white, blue and yellow striped unis. Underneath it all, unfortunately, the result on the field wasn't all that unfamiliar. From where I sat in the stands, I could swear the wooden likeness of Paul Bunyan is even wearing combat green.

Who's Your Triage?

It's been said that the best way to overcome one's fear is to immerse one's self in the source of it. If this is true, then Jim Leyland may have cured an entire city's case of believeinmephobia last night.

In an act described as anything from desperation to stubbornness ot insanity, the Detroit Tiger skipper [left] told a media gathering yesterday afternoon that he would not be using his two top closers in Game 5 of the ALCS against Texas. To his point, Joaquin Benoit and Jose Valverde were at critical mass with extensive duty for two consecutive games, each having experienced his highest pitch total of the season over the previous 48 hours. But if announcing their day off with such certainty was a surprise, his next revelation was the stuff triple-dog dares were made of.

"Who do you plan to use tonight?" a reporter asked. Leyland replied without hesitation. "We're going to try to get through the game with (Justin) Verlander and (Phil) Coke." Silence. A room full of loud-mouthed beat writers and international sportscasters weren't ready for what they just heard, not in the idea of JV throwing deep into the game, but in the only other name Leyland mentioned. Coke was one of two pitchers in the eighth inning of ALDS Game 4 whose appearanced failed to generate as much as an out. So instead of the impulsive "No, really?" follow-up, they observed unplanned moment of utter speechlessness.

Hours later, Verlander used his legs and once again lifted the franchise onto his shoulders, in a somewhat shaky yet nonetheless dominant 132-pitch effort that carried the Tigers two outs into the eighth inning with a three-run cushion. Just enough comfort for the often hurl-inspiring relief hurler as it turned out. Buoyed by Leyland's confidence, Coke fought through a trio of Texas hits and mowed down the heaviest part of the lineup in the ninth to close out a gutty 7-5 win, closing the Rangers' lead in the best-of-seven series to three games to two.

With every spin, twirl and plunge of this team's postseason thrill ride, we're all getting to know more about Leyland, the smoking gun behind the explosive ball club. First of all, we can see that he's having the time of his life. There's no bitterness, no profanity-fueled tantrums at home plate, and no hand-wringing at the collection of wounded soldiers within his ranks. When asked if he was worried about taking the field without Delmon Young, Magglio Ordonez [above] and the newly injured Delmon Young in the lineup, Leyland gave his questioner a look of chagrin. "Worried? I'm excited. We're in the American League championship series. We just went to New York and beat the Yankees, and now we're playing for the pennant. This is a one-of-a-kind opportunity."

An opportunity that's equally stimulating on an intellectual level. Consider the considerations he's had to consider. First there's the mysterious case of the disappearing right-handed outfielders. Brendan Boesch, who in his first full major league season was hitting .306 with 44 RBIs before the All-Star break, sprained his thumb in August and underwent season-ending ulnar collateral ligament surgery (ouch!) last month. Young, the free-agent pickup from Minnesota that exploded his way into the playoffs, suffered a pulled oblique muscle after his heroic home run in the series-clinching win over New York. Then, at some point during the rain-soaked first game of the ALCS, Ordonez fractured the same ankle that ended his 2010 season.

As if that weren't enough to make one question the notion of fairness, Martinez [left] pulled an oblique muscle of his own, during his swing that sent a Colby Lewis pitch deep into the Comerica Park bleachers in the Tigers' game 3 win. Who knew hitting a homer could be such a health risk?

Most of us find fascination in things like sportfishing or . Skip finds it in the intricacies of manipulating the fractured elements of his team. Victor's oblique muscle isn't quite as immobilizing when he bats right-handed; however, his knees won't allow him to play catcher any more this season. Despite what's being called a "minor patella" issue, catcher Alex Avila is the only option behind the plate, his defensiveness and pitch management being central reasons why anyone batting .080 in the playoffs (and falling!) would remain in the lineup. And Delmon Young's oblique injury seems to affect his ability to throw more than his ability to hit. "Hmmm... [deep Marlboro inhale]... what if I make Young the DH, bat Victor against lefties and pinch hit with Don Kelly?" There's costumes in the barn and dad knows music. What if we put on a show?

The details of each injury are merely clues to Leyland, as he tries to solve the puzzle of how to win the American League pennant. While his colleagues are playing chess in the park, Leyland is playing chess IN THE PARK. Perhaps the most important piece of all may be Avila [at right, consulting with Verlander], arguably the team's most valuable player on a team that also happens to have the AL batting champ, the soon-to-be Cy Young winner, and a closer who's saved each and every one of his 52 opportunities.

Avila re-aggrivated his damaged knee during Game 3 of the ALDS, when he stepped on Yankee first-baseman Robinson Cano's foot while attempting to beat out a bunt. The knee is now grotesquely swolen, to the extent that Leyland will only refer to his pregame training room regimen as "unbelievable." It has started to affect his other knee as well, and as that knee goes, so goes the fate of this team.

But don't tell that to Jimmy Smokes. He's too busy creating a world champion. One man's M*A*S*H unit is another man's masterpiece.

His following includes family, friends, fans and Doppler Radar

The Detroit Tigers' ace pitcher has a dark cloud following him everywhere. While this may sound like the bad depression analogy in a Prozac ad, it's taken on a very literal sense during this year's American League playoffs. First there was that unsettling one inning of work before the rain hit in New York. Followed by his start-stop-wait-dry-off-then-start-and-stop-again washout performance in Texas. And now, as the clouds swirl above our heads, his next appearance in game 5 tomorrow is already shaky. Like the horse's whinny at the mention of Frau Blucher in Young Frankenstein, the mere mention of his name is met with a thunderclap.

It's a phenomenon that deserves recognition, and I'm not the only one who feels this way. So in the spirit of naming hurricanes, here's an informational message just released by the National Weather Service:




This is a Noreaster, centered just off the coast of New England.















And this is a Verlander, heading ENE toward SE Michigan tomorrow afternoon.

Here We Roar Again

So here we are, Detroit baseball fans. The same place we were five years ago. Our Tigers fresh off a 95-win season and a nice shiny trophy for that Verlander fella, on their way to New York to face the Yankees in the ALDS. Then, like now, the Bronx Bombers at 97-65 were just two games ahead of Detroit. Yet everyone picked them to win.

As you can see from this link, I was one of the very few to pick the Tigers to shock the world and upset the Yanks back in '06, in four games at that. Splitting the first two at (then the old) Yankee Stadium, and sweeping NY in both games in the D. And shock the world they did, winning in four exactly as I predicted. (Just to add a bit of perspective, I was on record as saying that Ryan Leaf was a better, longer-lasting choice than that Peyton Manning kid. Nonetheless.)

So unplug your ipod and zoom ahead five years to 2011. Same situation awaits this ball club. So who goes on to face the winner of the Texas-Tampa ALDS? Now, like then, the pick is Detroit. And although I'm tempted as hell to say kitties in three, I'll give the Yankees a win before the door shuts on their season.

Why Detroit in four? For too many reasons to mention. But I'll try.

1. Justin. Verlander. Forget his poor playoff outings from years past. This year he's 24-9, a lock for the Cy Young award and a legitimate candidate for the AL MVP. If the Yanks hope to win this series, they'll most likely have to get to #35 at least once, as he's the likely starter for a deciding game 5.

2. Doug Fister. The freaking kid is like one of those Japanese knives on TV that keep getting sharper the more you use it. Every outing is more commanding than the one before. He's the guy the Yanks aren't waiting for. And if JV picks up win #25 in game 1, Douggie may be the one to push New York to the brink of elimination, before the series really gets underway.

3. These ARE your father's New York Yankees. In 2006 the names to watch on the New York side were Jeter, A-Rod, Cano, Pasada. All of them are still playing on the 2011 squad, each five years older than they were before the '06 ALDS. The two notables missing from the list this year are former Tiger Curtis Granderson and former Indian C.C. Sabathia. This is a team about to undergo a major transition. A transformation, if you will. And nothing would kick-start that process than a sound defeat of the pinstripes over the next week.

4. Jim Leyland. He has all the pieces needed to out Fisher Joe Girardi's Spasky. The New York Yankees don't scare him, didn't then and don't now. He's done a masterful job of getting by for the majority of the season without long relief. And now must get his kids believing that this year's edition of the Detroit Kitties aren't about to be stopped just yet. Not for a series or two.

5. Our 9th inning is better than theirs. One converted more save opportunities in one season than anyone in major league history. The other has more career saves than any other pitcher, ever. Mariano Rivera was once the light's-out closer for the ages. But he's aged as well, and every year takes another mile per hour off your fastball. And although it's generally been a rarity, he has been hit and hit hard. Of the two, the edge has to be Tiger stopper Jose Valverde, Mr. Perfection is a pristine 49-for-49 in save opportunities, and no one in baseball is more automatic at nailing down those final three outs.

6. Pitching aside, the teams are pretty much even. Forget the two extra wins on New York's part. these cats is practically interchangeable in terms of talent. The Yankees are the stronger team defensively, but Detroit has the better bats in their lineup. If it all comes down to pitching, the edge in this series heads north a few hours. The way Fister's pitching of late, the Yanks must face the reality that in three of the five games they will be facing Verlander, Fister and Verlander. And the other two games are in Detroit.

7. Miguel. Why he wasn't a regular part of the AL MVP talk, especially in September, is beyond me. But in the four out of five games that Verlander doesn't pitch, Cabrera is the team's most valuable guy.

So there it is. Tigers in four, then off to play one of two smoking-hot teams, either Texas or Tampa Bay. Unless their series goes five and needs extra innings, the Tiger dream will most likely end in the ALCS and one of those two organizations will head to the Fall Classic. But given the way the games played out yesterday, we're all better off just waiting until the ALCS comes.

Ja That's Him

Leaving his "party in the back" along the trail of his multiple East coast stops, Jaromir Jagr made his debut this week as a member of the Philadelphia Flyers. The 39-year-old Czech is taking a chance at another year in the NHL, but not as big a chance as the Flyers, who signed him in July for $3.3 million in an off-season transformation of the 2010 Eastern Conference champions. GM Paul Holmgren cleaned house by sending center Jeff Carter to Columbus and forward Mike Richards to the Los Angeles Kings, in return welcoming Jagr, former Red Wing defenseman Anders Lilja and a trio of forwards, Wayne Simmonds, Brayden Schenn and Jakub Voracek, to The City That Booed Santa. Before all the moves, the Flyers appeared to be a front runner again in the East. Now they're a fascinating mystery, a quickly gelling force for the next few years or a black and orange implosion.

Philly, we know what you did last summer. The question is, will they know what they've done next May?

O-H-I-AM-ON-THE-50!

One of the perks of my current employment is the occasional "team building" event. A day where we put the big projects and hot deadlines aside and travel to an undisclosed off-site destination, you know, to help us grow together as a unit.

This past week we had one of our team-building events, and it involved a trip to The Hoss-Shoe. Ohio Stadium. The silver fortress nestled along the banks of the Olentangy River, as Keith Jackson used to say. In all my lifetime, through four decades of season tickets in Ann Arbor, I've yet to have the honor of a facility tour. But here, in my first year in Columbus, I am being guided through every nook and cranny of the old stone edifice. The former home of Hopalong Cassidy and Jesse Owens. The field that Woody wore thin every fall, working out his soldiers to the point of exhaustion, so they'd always be ready to defeat "that school up north".

The meeting rooms and private suites really give one a glimpse into the world of the fortunate few who foot the bill for the football program. We were escorted into a suite that we were told costs its owner $75,000 a season—and this doesn't include actual tickets to the game. That is simply the fee for the right to view the game from that location, once tickets are purchased. Comparatively, Ohio Stadium itself was built in 1922 for $1.3 million, or the cost of 20 of those suites for one season. Without tickets.

We soaked up the view from each layer of the press box before being escorted onto the field. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be sure. But for the enemy, especially an enemy who was tipped off the night before, it proved to be an ideal chance for a long-held goal: a photo on the 50-yard line, standing in the scarlet "O" wearing maize and blue!

I waited till the small crowd we were with trickled away before popping off the neutral hoodie to reveal my true colors. A co-worker (whom I had already asked to snap my image) captured several pictures, but only one of me all alone, dotting the "O" as it were. As you can see it turned out quite well.

We then toured the band room, an expansive area whose far wall bears a large oil painting of John Phillip Souza. Every band member's sheet music was out, as if they had momentarily stepped out of the room. In the long lecture about the history of the Ohio State University band and all of its traditions, not one word about how "Script Ohio" originated from the Michigan Marching Band during the school's visit to Columbus for a football game. The M Band scrawled out the four-letter cursive word as a tribute to their opponents on that day, and as you can see (left), crude is an understatement. The OSU band has tightened it up since then and made it a timeless tradition of football Saturday. But there's no debating where the custom came from, no matter how much they think they can bury the facts.

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Michigan 34, WMU 10: But it felt so real...

I had the strangest dream.

It involved University of Michigan football of course, being that we're in the late summer. And being that U-M football has been a part of the last 41 autumns of my life. So I was going to a Michigan game. But it wasn't just any Michigan game.

For one, it was the single hottest Michigan game I can remember, ever. And I'm enough of a geezer to remember the 1983 home opener against Washington State, where the aisles between sections became as busy as the hallways of an emergency health care clinic, with paramedics carrying heat exhaustion victims up and out, one after another. Today the mercury approached 100 degrees and the fiery maize ball sat alone in a deep blue sky.

My friend called and had me on the invite list for a radio station's pregame party. An endless buffet of wings, rib sandwiches, you name it. All on the house. Open bar, too. It is a dream, right? Then, armed with sunblock, we headed off to the stadium in time for all the pregame traditions. "Band, take the field!" Fanfare. The thing where the drum major bends backward and touches the ground with his hat. The M Club banner. Brady Hoke's first run through the tunnel as coach. And finally, game.

Western Michigan was the opponent as I recall. They had this quarterback, I think his name was Carder, who led them down the field with relative ease. Suddenly, quickly, Michigan trailed by seven. Then--and this is how I know it's a dream--Denard Robinson was ineffective. He ended up with just 46 yards rushing and less than 100 yards through the air.

This can't be happening, I thought. Not on a day like this. The thought had yet to settle in my slumbering brain when, at the Wolverine five yard line with the score tied at seven, Carder was hit as he threw the ball and his fluttery pass was snared by Brandon Herron. The senior linebacker ran through several WMU players and a number of missed blocks on his way to an inexplicable school-record 94-yard interception return.

And like that, the game turned. Everything seemed to turn on that play in fact, as clouds began to fill the sky. Still warm, still sunny. For the most part. But the air was getting thicker for all of us, particularly those wearing the gold and brown. Western could only manage a field goal the rest of the half as Michigan held a 20-10 lead at intermission. By now the wind had picked up, and clouds moved at a Denard-like pace over the rapidly darkening Big House.

The second half began and no sooner did the Wolverines receive the kick when the skies opened. A sudden storm whipped through the bowl, shooting rain sideways and sending crashes of thunder throughout the area. Referees ran onto the field and, for the second time in Michigan Stadium history, stopped the game due to weather delay. The teams scurried into the tunnel as 110,000 fans ducked into the 60 tunnels that surround it. Yet even as they left, even as sheets of rain continued to pelt the field, the skies above were blue. Players covered their eyes from the sun as they left the newly brightened green field turf.

Details are a bit fuzzy but I swear, it felt so real. I remember huddling next to a rail under the south end zone stands, watching fans escape the downpour, young and old, male and female, as soaking wet as if they were running ashore. After a half hour, the rain stopped and the game was back on. Three quarters of the crowd decided to stick it out and returned to their seats, drenched yet eager to see what will transpire down below.

Michigan took control when play resumed. Carder dropped back to pass and was met full-on by Jordan Kovacs. He never saw the blitzing Wolverine safety and lost the ball upon impact. From the left side of the line burst who else but Brandon Herron, who picked up the gift in stride and ran a dreamy 28 yards into the end zone. No Wolverine has ever scored on both a fumble and an interception return in the same game. Were I not experiencing this moment in the midst of REM sleep, he would have ran his way into the Michigan football record book on this day.

Then, after Denard rose from the dead and scrambled for a hard-earned first down, Michael Shaw took a handoff at the WMU 44 and hit the goal line in a dead sprint, untouched. 34-10 Blue. Seemingly back to normal. Until the kickoff. A deep purple wall formed in the skies over the northwest end. This is where it gets really sketchy.

Fitzgerald Toussaint took a handoff from Robinson and the entire field became awash in heavy sheets of water. A brilliant flash of lightning blew up just above the north end zone. A thunderous boom pounded into our chests an instant later. An eclipse of darkness engulfed the field as players disappeared. 70,000 fans disappeared in a matter of minutes. We huddled inside the M Den as a sales associate hung up her phone and informed us that a severe thunderstorm with 70mph winds was minutes away. We extended our welcome with strategically planned merchandise purchases but were ultimately told to evacuate the tiny blue trailer.

One more look into the section 15 tunnel. The stadium was dark and empty, ordered evacuated for the first time ever. The new lighting system illuminated the field, giving me what would be my only glimpse of what prime time would look like inside the stadium, as I would be at my brother's wedding in Minnesota the following week and not able to attend the historic Notre Dame night game. I remember the only other light coming from the new scoreboards at each end, displaying satellite images of the angry red and yellow circles that swept one by one, directly over Ann Arbor. All other neighboring areas were clear. My friends were boating in sunny Pinckney, stunned to hear that it was even raining at the stadium.

Guards escorted us back through the tunnel. Then we were running, running through the violent storm. Lightning crashed to either side of us, each blast closer than the one before. Still we ran, for miles it seemed, until we reached our car. They said they cancelled the rest of the game. Yeah right.

We made it to a local sports bar and grill when the winds hit with full force. The lights of the parking structure cut out. We dodged cans, signs and trash cans to get to the door of the establishment. The Tiger game was on one of the satellite TVs, they were down by two runs to Chicago in the ninth inning with one out when lightning struck the building, knocking out power. A couple fought through class-one hurricane winds to enter the building. He wiped his wet face and headed to the bar. A fierce gust of wind pushed the door closed and pinned his wife at the waist. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her through the threshold.

Back at the table, a woman sitting next to us hung up her phone. Her husband just told her the Tigers won. Weren't they down 8-1? The dishes re-callibrated and screens alternated between images of empty Michigan Stadium and empty Notre Dame Stadium. The Irish were losing to South Florida 16-0. I know right? South Florida!

I awoke with a shudder and sat bolt upright in my bed. What just happened? Where am I? And why am I soaking wet? Enough with these crazy dreams already. When for the love of God will the football season start?

Enough about the Cy Young

Justin Verlander deserves better.

MVP! MVP! MVP!

What's it feel like to play right field for the Cubs?

This week I took my son to his first baseball game at Chicago's storied Wrigley Field. What he didn't know was that he was taking his dad to HIS first game at Wrigley as well.

As cool as the experience was, nothing beat a sneak peek through an open fence just below the right field foul pole. Which enabled me to capture the feeling of standing on the green grass yourself (see photo). You can practically taste the Copenhagen dip in your left cheek.

Vrabel jumps on the C-Bus

Former Ohio State linebacker Mike Vrabel has agreed to return to his alma mater and join coach Luke Fickel's staff. It's good to see people passing up the money and going back to help fix problems the schools they used to play/coach for are facing.

Coach Vrabel should take heart in the fact that the same storyline is playing out at that school three hours to the north. Greg Mattison gave up the defensive-minded coach's dream job - running the defense of the Baltimore Ravens, and coaching the best defensive player in pro football, Ray Lewis - to come back and remedy what that used to be the cornerstone of Bo Schembechier's Big Ten championship teams. Last year the Wolverines defense ranked 110th in Division 1 (yes, there are that many D-1 teams). Coach Matt used to be Lloyd Carr's defensive coordinator in the 1990s, and built the defense into the wall that ultimately shut down twelve straight opponents and won the national championship in 1997.

Vrabel is coming back to help something that has yet to be completely defined: the level his beloved Buckeyes will have fallen once the NCAA lowers the boom on the program. Not a power move, be sure. But an easy choice for someone who bleeds scarlet and gray. He's still a Buckeye, but he's a good man in my book.

The Death Penalty? Why not?

Here's what wiki states regarding the Death Penalty's "repeat violator" rule: "The NCAA has always had the power to ban an institution from competing in a particular sport. However, in 1985, in response to rampant violations at several schools, the NCAA Council passed the "repeat violator" rule. The rule stipulates that if a second major violation occurs at any institution within five years of being on probation in the same sport or another sport, that institution can be barred from competing in the sport involved in the second violation for either one or two seasons."

On March 10, 2006, the OSU basketball team received a three-year NCAA probation and vacated all accomplishments from 1999-2002, including their 1999 Final Four appearance. We are still within the five-year period of the hoops team's probation. So how is this NOT a Death Penalty scenario?

Right now tOSU apologists should refrain from calling anyone else dumb.