Chirp chir--GACK!

 The first big weekend of college football starts tonight with a bunch of Colorados at Georgia Techs and Idahos at Utahs, and I can't wait, because I love me some college football. I also can't wait because I am a proud Ball State graduate, and my Cardinals open up Saturday.

So chirp-chirp, and go Cards. I feel confident they will cover themselves with gory Saturday afternoon.

Wait, did I say "gory"?

I meant "glory." Yeah, that's it, "glory."

I say this even though the Cards had a rough go of it last season, finishing 4-8 and 3-5  in the Mid-American Conference. And I say it even though Saturday afternoon they'll be in Columbus, Ohio, staked out on an anthill while the NO. 1 TEAM IN THE ENTIRE NATION picks clean their bones.

Yes, that's right, boys and girls. My Ball State Cardinals open the 2026 season against the No. 1 Ohio State Buckeyes, last seen going 12-2 and 9-0 in the Big Ten and reaching the College Football Playoff quarterfinals.

And do they have almost everyone back? Of course they have almost everyone back.

My Cardinals, meanwhile, have a new coach (Mike Uremovich), who inherits a team that wasn't nearly as good as Ohio State last year. Went 4-8 and 3-5 in the Mid-American Conference, the Cardinals did, which was good for 10th place. This was about what they deserved considering they lost their last three games by a combined score of 107-33.

Eastern Michigan beat 'em 24-9. Toledo mulched 'em 38-0. And Miami (O.) ball-peened 'em 45-24.

Not an optimum way to end the season when you're opening the next season at Ohio State.

"Why are they playing Ohio State, Mr. Blob?" you might be asking now. "Do they just hate their football players down there in Muncie? Did the athletic director get picked on by star linebacker Biff Biffington when he was a kid?"

Well ... no. Not to my knowledge, anyway.

No, the reason Ball State scheduled Ohio State is, surprise-surprise, money. Ohio State has lots of it, and they were willing to part with some to get the Cardinals to come get their heads beaten in. For that privilege, Ball State will receive just shy of $2 million.

It's what's called a guarantee game, and it's how athletic departments at the Ball States  keep their oars in the water. And so, for the good of the overall athletic program, the football team occasionally gets thrown to the wolves -- or, in this case, to a tree-borne nut native to the Midwest and upper Great Plains.

"So do the Cardinals have a chance?" you're saying now.

Well, let's put it this way. Last year the Cardinals opened at Purdue. The Boilermakers won 31-0. They went on to finish 2-10 and dead last in the Big Ten.

So, yes. They have a chance. To survive.

"What's the spread?" you're saying.

Last I looked, Ohio State was favored by 50.

"Does this mean if Ball State only loses by, say, 45, it's a win?"

No. It's a win if they go home on the team bus and not the team gurney.

Altogether now: Chirp chir-GACK!

Roll(er) call

 Saw a piece in the local paper the other day about Fort Wayne Roller Derby, and how it's opening a training camp for anyone ages 9 and up who want to learn how to ... well, how to do roller derby. And for once I thanked the good Lord for every one of my 71 years.

Were I not in an advanced state of decrepitude, see, I might have had a chance to seriously booger myself up.

That's because I grew up watching the Northwest Pioneers and San Francisco Bay Area Bombers on the tube every Saturday afternoon -- it was always the Pioneers vs. the Bombers, it seemed -- and, man, it was more fun than the Big One at Talladega. Blockers pounding on other blockers, a bar fight on wheels. Jammers trying to slither through the chaos. And who could forget Big Joanie Weston, the Blonde Bomber, or Charlie O'Connell, the ageless wonder?

You think Earnhardt punting Labonte into the wall was wild? You shoulda seen Big Joanie send some unfortunate Pioneer flying over the rail. Or Charlie O deck an enemy blocker with a Ginsu elbow.

(And that's not even mentioning Raquel Welch in that roller derby movie. I saw that, too, growing up. Though not necessarily for the roller derby part.)

Well, now you can learn all that, thanks to Fort Wayne Roller Derby. The ulterior motive is to put a roster together for this season; the immediate goal is to introduce young and less-young boys, girls, men and women the sport.

"At the training camp, we're going to teach skating, teach how to fall, eventually how to hit people, which is the draw," board president and community events coordinator Nicki Gunn told the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette. "Then you learn the rules, how to be a team player, how to work both offense and defense at the same time, communicate with other and everything that encompasses.

"We start with basic skills and footwork, and each week builds on the previous week and then moves on to something new within that."

Know what jumped out at me about that?

The part about teaching how to fall.

Because I'm telling you right now, falling would be my thing. I would be a falling All-Star. I would fall if you looked at me wrong. No one would ever hit me because I already would have fallen.

So, you know, take that, Charlie O'Connell. Nyah nyah, nyah-nyah nyah.

Although I'd never taunt Big Joanie Weston like that. What, you think I'm nuts?

Less Angeles

 God bless that ball coach at Texas Tech, Joey McGuire. He knows how to hit 'em where it hurts, even when the hit bounces off and smacks his own face.

Maybe you've heard a bit about how USC played San Jose State in its home opener last weekend, and like 12 people showed up. You not only could have picked your own seat in the Coliseum's yawning acreage, you could have picked your own row.

So, naturally, the interwhatsis had a fine time trolling USC and Less, er, Los Angeles, saying what a pathetic sports town it must be if even so proud a college football program as USC couldn't draw flies.

This included the aforementioned Coach Joey, who said this: "Not to take any shots, because I have a lot of respect for USC and Lincoln Riley, but it's really awesome to be playing in Lubbock, Texas, knowing we're going to be playing in front of 60,000 ... They're going to show up no matter what the weather's like. There's not going to be any excuses of why they're not here for us."

Couple of things about that, as McGuire unwittingly dents his own schnozz.

One, it's Lubbock, Texas.

Two, it's Lubbock, Texas.

Which is to say, OF COURSE they're gonna show up this weekend. What else is there to do in Lubbock, Texas, on a Saturday? Sit in a rocker down at the Cracker Barrel and watch the tumblin' tumbleweeds blow past?

And, yes, I know, Lubbock is an actual city -- a college town -- not Gulpin' Gulch or Dirt Clod Corners. For instance, it really does have a Cracker Barrel. Plus, one assumes, numerous other modern conveniences.

However.

However, it's not L.A. So McGuire making that comparison is the proverbial apple comparing itself to the proverbial orange.

L.A., after all, is Hollywood and Vine. It's swimmin' pools and movie stars. It's surfer dudes at Malibu, rollerbladers on Venice Beach and fancy restaurants where only studio execs can get a table, and which specialize in such delicacies as abalone pizza and medallions of squab hunkered down in a bed of imported Brisbane kale.

In other words, Angelenos have a lot goin' on. It's why L.A. has never been regarded as a great sports town, even by Angelenos. The only time the masses show up is when the Dodgers or Lakers are flying high -- and then it's not so much to root for the Dodgers or Lakers, but to be seen rooting for the Dodgers or Lakers.

As more than one observer has observed, L.A. is the front-runningest sports town in America.

So OF COURSE there were a lot of folks dressed as empty seats Saturday. Who's gonna come bake like a crescent roll to watch a nothing college football game in August? After all, they've got a table for two waiting at Musso and Frank's.

This is why the Blob is halfway stunned that L.A. now has not one but two NFL teams, the Rams and the Chargers. In previous lives, after all, the Rams and the Chargers were such big hits in Los Angeles they moved to St. Louis and San Diego. They only moved back because the owners of the St. Louis Rams and San Diego Chargers were colossal dicks, and because the NFL lusted after all that chunky L.A.  exposure.

I mean, how could the NFL call itself America's premier sporting attraction if it didn't have a Los Angeles presence, lousy sports town or no lousy sports town?

So no surprise the Coliseum was an echo chamber last weekend. And no surprise Lubbock's Galaxy Stadium will be anything but when the Red Raiders take the field Saturday night against Abilene Christian.

You got your culture, see, and you got your other culture. Ain't it great?

The Fist-y City

 There were no drunken brawls in the nether regions of Wrigley Field last night, possibly because the drunks were too busy catching the baseballs the Cubs kept airmailing into the seats. A 17-3 beatdown of the rival Brewers -- in which the Bearcubs hit an astounding nine home runs -- will soothe the savage beast in anyone, it seems.

And believe me, there do seem to be a lot of savage beasts in the Fist-y City these days. Or  plain idiots, if you prefer.

Several times in the last few weeks ugly brawls have erupted in the outfield seats at both Wrigley and Rate Park on the south side, as lard-ish over-served guys in throwback Sandberg and Konerko jerseys have traded punches ... or leaped four rows onto a Sandberg's back ... or been Konerko-ed three or four more rows on down.

At least once it happened during the Cubs-White Sox city series, so maybe no surprise there. Still, it does make you wonder what they're putting in the water these days in Chi.

Or maybe it's just Chicago being Chicago -- although far be it from me to indict a whole city for the actions of a few ... OK, a bunch ... OK. a whole pile of low-IQ meatheads.

Because, listen, how dim do you have to be to say "Imma go out to the Confines, slam  eleventy Old Styles and then go to Fist City with some loser in a Hee-Seop Choi jersey"?

You can't beat fun at the old ballpark, as Harry used to say.

Seriously, what compels anyone who walks upright to start a fight at a baseball game, other than the booze? It's a baseball game, people. It's supposed to be red hots and Cracker Jacks and a good time that's had by all. What could possibly make you mad enough to start punching another baseball fan in the face (or more than likely, miss everything but air with five out of six punches?)

Surely it can't be baseball-related, can it?

Drunken Sox Fan: Sandberg? Man, that guy was sooo overrated. 

Drunken Cubs Fan: Konerko? What's that, a rash?

Sox Fan: Remember 1906? (Sox 4-2 over the Cubs in the World Series)

Cubs Fan: Remember 2016?

Sox Fan:  Big whoop. You beat CLEVELAND, for God's sake.

Random Indians Fan In A Joe Charbonneau Jersey: Hey!

(Leaps over a row of seats and starts pounding on Sox fan)

Could that possibly happen? 

Or is just because it's late August/early September, everyone's worn out from the summer heat, and the Bears are still talking about moving to INDIANA, for God's sake?

Random Fan In The Bleachers: Hey, Indiana's not so bad.

(Drunken Sox Fan and Drunken Cubs Fan leap over TWO rows of seats and start swinging, knocking several full beers out of people's hands and drawing their pissed-off owners into the fray ...)

Yessir. Now THAT I could see.