A Rivers Runs Through It*

 (*A play in one act)

Morning. The head coach's office at the Indianapolis Colts complex. In a panicked frenzy, Shane Steichen is tearing open drawers, rummaging through cabinets, flinging clipboards and tablets and tattered  copies of "Football For Dummies" out of the storage closet onto the office's blue-and-white carpet.

Steichen: Dammit! Where is he? He's got to be SOMEWHERE!

Offensive coordinator Jim Bob Cooter: Who, Coach?

Steichen: Our other quarterback! You know, what's-his-name!

Cooter: Um, Coach, we don't have a what's-his-name.

Steichen: You mean ...

Cooter: Yup. We're fresh out of quarterbacks.

Wide receivers coach Reggie Wayne: Fresh out.

Linebackers coach Cato June: Cupboard's bare, boss.

(Steichen bends over in anguish, presses his hands to his head, utters a sound halfway between a moan and a growl)

Steichen: Gaaah! You mean we've got NO ONE? Danny's out for the year, AR's on the IR with the eye thing, and now O'Riley Leonard's hurt, TOO?

Cooter: Um, that's Riley Leonard, Coach.

Steichen: Oh, yeah. Right. Anyway, he's hurt, too? So what do we do now?

(Cooter, Wayne, June and the rest of the coaching staff shuffle their feet, clear their throats, stare at the carpet)

Cooter: Well ...

Wayne: Well ...

June: There's always ...

Steichen: You mean Peyton? Come on, he's too busy making many commercials and yukking it up with Eli on Monday nights. 

Cooter: No, not Peyton.

Steichen: Jeff George? I mean, he still lives in town, but he's so ancient there are drawings of him on cave walls.

Cooter: No.

Steichen: Who, then?

Cooter: Well ... we could give Philip Rivers a call.

Steichen: PHILIP RIVERS?? Man, he hasn't played in five years, and he was old then. What is he now, 75? Hell, he's got grandkids, for cryin' out loud!

Cooter: Now, wait a minute, he's only 44. And, yes, he hasn't taken a snap in five years, which in NFL years is more like 30. But he knows the organization. And some of the guys he played with are still here -- one or two, anyway. And it's not like he's got anything better to do.

Steichen: Well, hell, neither does Cam Newton. I mean, have you seen him on TV?

Cooter:  Have YOU? The other day he showed up dressed as William Tecumseh Sherman, only with a pith helmet and a riding crop. I think he might have been sporting a monocle, too. We sign him, the clothing allowance alone would break us.

(Steichen sighs)

Steichen: Well ... I guess it's Gramps or nobody, then. Unless we can figure out a way to raise Unitas from the dead, that is.

(Pause)

We can't do that, can we?

(The next day, the Colts announce they're adding Philip Rivers to the practice squad. America reacts with a chorus of "What th-?" Occasionally someone is heard to say, "Philip Rivers? You mean he's still alive?")

A few brief thoughts on NFL Week 14

And now this week's edition of The NFL In So Many Words, the Blob feature in which reality dawns and critics say, "The reality is, I wish it were sunset for this and not dawn", and also "It dawns on me I got your reality right here, pal":

1. "Wait, you mean we're NOT going to the Super Bowl this year?" (The Chiefs, who were smothered by the Texans and are now 6-7)

2. (Also the Colts, who lost Daniel Jones for the season in a loss to the Jaguars, and whose quarterback room is now Riley Leonard, an injured Anthony Richardson and perhaps retired 44-year-old Philip Rivers, whom Indy is bringing in for a tryout)

3. (And, no, I am not making up that last)

4. In other news, the Buccaneers lost at home to the dog-poo Saints; the Browns lost to the Titans but Shedeur Sanders threw for 364 yards and three scores and ran for another; the Super Bowl champion Eagles lost (again!), this time to the Chargers as Super Bowl MVP Jalen Hurts threw four picks; and the Bears lost (again!) to the Packers.

5. "Wait, you mean the Packers still own us?" (The Bears)

6. "Wait, you mean Jalen Hurts sucks now?" (America -- except for Philadelphia, which has already decided he sucks now)

7. "Wait, you mean I had Shedeur Sanders last on the depth chart all this time?" (Browns coach Kevin Stefanski)

8. "Wait, we lost to WHO? At our place?" (The Buccaneers)

9. "Wait, we beat WHO? At their place?" (The Saints)

10. "Wait, you mean the Packers still own us?" (The Bears, again, for good measure) 

Thanks for playing

 Been following all the memes/chortling/out-and-out guffaws attending the latest Monty Python skit starring our Fearless Leader, and I've gotta say, FIFA kinda weak-sistered its usual bribery. A cheapo medal? That's the best it could come up with?

At the very least a sporty automobile could have been involved. Or a golden calf. Or perhaps some choice oil leases in Qatar -- although that might have been a hard nut, considering Qatar already gave F.L. a plane and no doubt wouldn't have liked being hit up again.

But, no, FIFA went the Cracker Jacks route instead.

 Here Mr. President, since you are the grand poobah of peace, we present you the inaugural FIFA Peace Prize, which we just made up to make you feel better about being snubbed by those Nobel snots. Thanks for hosting the 2026 World Cup. And just look at the draw the U.S. got! America, the downtown YMCA and the DaffoDillies from the Little Kickers league, all in the same group! Why, you'd think we rigged it or something (wink-wink)!

Ay-yi-yi. Honestly, the whole business would be satire (or, yes, a Monty Python skit) had Fearless Leader and the rest of the clown show not killed off satire a long time ago. Now it's just another day in Donny World, where participation trophies are scorned except when they're being presented to you-know-who.

Can't wait 'til the U.S. loses to the DafoDillies, and FIFA digs into the Cracker Jacks box again to come up with another Major Award.

Thanks for playing, America. Tell 'em what they've won, Johnny Olson!

Why, it's the home version of "Hollywood Squares"! Includes BOTH Paul Lynde and Charles Nelson Reilly!

Ah, the madness. The madness.

Irish 'byes

 So Notre Dame got squeezed out of the College Football Playoff, which is either insufferable elitists finally getting theirs (the anti-Domer version), or (the Domer version), a travesty of a mockery of a sham of a mockery of a travesty of two mockeries of a sham.*

(*Woody Allen, "Bananas")

Me?

I blame Stanford.

If the Cardinal hadn't been such a travesty of a mockery of a sham of a football team, see, Notre Dame wouldn't have somehow skidded from ninth in the CFP poll to out of the CFP  without even playing last weekend. Which means Notre Dame 49, Stanford 20 nine days ago was  the last the CFP selectors got to see of Marcus Freeman's lads.

What that says to me is the Cardinal simply was not good enough for Notre Dame to impress anyone with a mere 29-point tool-up. Thus, it's all Stanford's fault.

But enough about that.

Enough about the Irish getting elbowed out of the CFP by a three-loss Alabama team, which got thoroughly paved by Georgia in the SEC championship game two days ago. Clearly rushing for minus-3 yards against the Bulldogs carried great weight with the selectors.

More shocking (and unsettling) than that is what the Irish did next: Turn down a projected Pop-Tarts Bowl bid to play BYU, the other first-team-out in the CFP voting yesterday. This followed on the heels of Kansas State and Iowa State declining to play in Big 12-affiliated bowls because both just lost their head coaches -- a move that prompted the conference to fine both schools half-a-million dollars.

In Notre Dame's case, the anti-Domer crowd immediately seized on this as proof Notre Dame is a hotbed of crybabyin' snots who, because they didn't get their way, decided to take their ball and go home. Hey, we're NOTRE DAME. We don't play in loser bowl games like the Pop-Tart Bowl (even though Pop-Tarts are delicious). If we can't play in the Big Show, we're not playin' in any show.

Or something like that.

What I think is the anti-Domers are missing the larger point, which is that the advent and expansion of the CFP has rendered moot every bowl game except those folded into the CFP. Really, what does a Kansas State or Iowa State, let alone Notre Dame, have to gain by playing in a Pop-Tarts Bowl? Or a Bad Boy Mowers Pinstripe Bowl, a Tony The Tiger Sun Bowl, a Scooter's Coffee Frisco Bowl or a Bucked Up LA Bowl?

(All of which are real bowl games, by the way. Come on, you think I could make up something called the Bucked Up LA Bowl?)

Every one of these bowls is not so much a reward for that glorious 6-6 season, but an occasion for Directional Hyphen State to spend a bunch of money it likely could use to build up its NIL war chest. And this is truth squared for a school like Notre Dame, which is both insulated and increasingly isolated by its independent status and the NBC contract that fuels it.

That status, and that longstanding deal, means Notre Dame does not have to revenue share like the Power 4 conference schools do. Notre Dame's loot is all Notre Dame's, and it's the main reason -- plus the cushy arrangement it has with the ACC -- football has never found it necessary to join a conference. Why split the take when you can keep it all and still kinda-sorta play a conference schedule?

But as yesterday's snub illustrates, circumstances are catching up with the Irish. They may still have the clout to carve out their own CFP status, but joining a conference now has advantages it didn't before. Had ND played in a conference championship game Saturday, for instance -- this team, playing the quality of football it's playing right now -- is there any doubt it would be one of the 12 CFP qualifiers, instead of looking on from outside the gates?

I mean, look what it did for Alabama. Even though the Tide got rolled.

Instead, the CFP said 'bye to the Irish -- and then the Irish said 'bye to the loss leader every bowl game outside the CFP has become.

A strange new world. And getting stranger.

Wrong again

 Well, I'll be bumfuzzled, to quote the late Bobby Bowden.

Sat in my TV room with friends last night and saw Ohio State take a 10-6 lead into halftime in the Big Ten championship game, and thought, yeah, that tracks. This was going the way I thought it would go. This was going to wind up something along the lines of Ohio State 24, Indiana 13, and I would be RIGHT, dammit, the Prognosticator of the Year, the Seer Without Peer in the realm of predictin' who wins a dadgum football game.

And then ...

Ah, yes. And then.

And then here was Fernando Mendoza making a perfect back-shoulder throw to Elijah Sarratt, who made a perfect catch even though he was perfectly covered, and suddenly Indiana led 13-10 and the game was down to the fourth quarter, and the Buckeyes hadn't dented the scoreboard in the second half.

And then Ohio State chewed up almost eight minutes on a 15-play, 81-yard drive that went on and on and finally ground to a halt within spitting distance of the Hoosier goal line, and the Buckeyes' placekicker came on to tie it up with a field goal that, had it been golf, would have been on the fringe, and OHMIGOD WHAT IS THIS HE YANKED IT LEFT ...

And Indiana still led 13-10. And now there was just 2:48 left on the clock, and here was Mendoza making another perfect throw, this time to Charlie Becker, for 33 yards and a first down.

After which Ohio State had to burn all its timeouts, and pretty soon there were just 24 seconds left and the Hoosiers were pooching a kick and the Buckeyes were downing it on the 14-yard line with 18 seconds left. Which meant they had to go 86 yards in the time it takes to, I don't know, warm up a cinnamon roll in the microwave or something.

They didn't, of course.

The Hoosiers knocked down a couple of throws and Jeremiah Smith caught a meaningless deep ball in traffic as the clock ran out, and No. 2 Indiana won the Big Ten title 13-10 over the No. 1, defending national champion Buckeyes. And like most of America. the Blob is still trying to process it.

I mean, come on, a year after Curt Cignetti showed up in Bloomington to take over one of the historically worst programs in major college football, the Hoosiers are 13-0 and conference champs for the first time in 58 years. They're also headed to the College Football Playoff as the No. 1 team in the nation for the first time ever.

And to do it, they held an Ohio State team that came in averaging a shade under 36 points per game to 10 points.

And all but silenced the Buckeyes' running game, which coughed out a miniscule 2.2 yards for rush and 58 yards against the Hoosiers' defensive front. 

And sacked Ohio State quarterback Julian Sayin five times and intercepted him once.

And, finally, snapped a 30-game losing streak to the Columbus behemoth. Last time the Hoosiers beat the Buckeyes was 1988, when Anthony Thompson gashed the Bucks for 190 yards and four scores in a 41-7 blowout. 

Anthony Thompson. Who is 58 years old now.

Me?

I'm 70. And I've never seen the like of it. 

Da Prediction*

 (*Sort of)

By which I mean, I don't know who's going to win the big monster mash between unbeaten, top-ranked Ohio State and unbeaten, second-ranked Indiana tonight in Lucas Oil Stadium. My gut tells me it'll be the Buckeyes, on account of no one in college football has more pure talent stacked up and down the depth chart.

So, sorry, Indiana. You can take solace in my track record in these matters, which is sort of like Germany's record in world wars (to shamelessly steal from the late, great Dan Jenkins).

Anyway, when I mean my prediction is only a sorta prediction, it's because predicting who wins is not what it's about. It's about predicting what happens if the Hoosiers actually do pull off the upset.

I figure two a number of things will happen:

1. The people who've been saying all season Indiana is a total fraud because, well, it's Indiana and Indiana can't possibly be this good at football, are going to say,"Well, they only really had to prepare for one game all season."

2. After which they'll say, "Well, Ohio State wasn't really that good. I mean, who did they play? Michigan? Please."

3. After which they'll also say, "So, you know, once again, Indiana hasn't really been tested. Why, just wait'll (choose one) Georgia/Ole Miss/Texas Tech/Texas A&M/Oregon gets hold of the Hoosiers. They'll come apart like the polyester Armani knockoff they are."

4. After which someone will surely say, "Um, the Hoosiers already beat Oregon. By 10. In Eugene."

5. After which the people who've been saying all season Indiana is a total fraud because, well, it's Indiana and Indiana can't possibly be this good at football will say, "Yeah, well, Oregon's overrated, too. And the Ducks had an off day. And ... and ... AND NOTRE DAME'S A FRAUD, TOO, HOW CAN MIAMI NOT BE RANKED AHEAD OF THE IRISH ON ACCOUNT OF THE 'CANES DESTROYED THEM BY THREE POINTS BACK IN AUGUST??"

Of course, should Indiana lose tonight -- especially if it loses big -- none of the above will apply, except the Notre Dame stuff. Although the gloating will surely be disgusting.

Please, God. Spare us.

The Chair 2 ...

 ... and, like most sequels, it wasn't as good as the original.

The original, of course, starred the late Robert Montgomery Knight in one of his most iconic roles, Angry Seating Dude. In that one, he sailed an orange molded plastic chair across the Assembly Hall floor in the middle of a game against archrival Purdue, prompting his immediate rejection and unleashing 40 years of chair jokes, memes and even a dependable laugh line from Knight himself, who puckishly said he was only trying to provide seating for a little old lady.

The sequel?

Well, it happened last night up in Wisconsin, where Green Bay lost another college basketball game to Robert Morris, and another basketball coach threw another chair. This time it was Doug Gottlieb, former ESPN yakker and now the head coach of Green Bay, which stands 4-6 on the season after going 4-28 in Gottlieb's first year.

Last night, his Phoenix were sailing toward a W when, with a smidge fewer than four minutes to play, everything came part like wet single-ply. Down 11 with 3:54 left, Robert Morris rallied to cut the lead to two with 35.7 seconds left, forced a 10-second violation and splashed a three-ball to take the lead, then won it on a layup with 2.4 seconds showing after Green Bay tied the game with a free throw.

An understandably annoyed Gottlieb stalked off the floor, spied a blameless chair in the entryway and threw it against the wall.

Voila. "Chair 2."

And, look, even though it didn't have the dramatic je ne sais quoi of the original, it did raise awareness about an issue vital to ... well, at least a couple people, maybe: Furniture abuse in college basketball. 

Of course, you can say two incidents in four decades isn't much of an issue, but even one abused chair is too many. This is why Gottlieb needs to be severely punished for his actions, and Green Bay needs to institute a Chair Abuse Awareness Program with funding from, I don't know, Barcalounger or La-Z Boy or someone.

"OK, now you're just being silly, Mr. Blob," you're saying now.

Perhaps. But I bet that chair doesn't think so.

Green Bay was up by 11 with 3:54 left in the game before Robert Morris launched a late rally. With its lead cut to two with 35.7 seconds to go, Green Bay was called for a 10-second violation when it couldn't advance the ball past midcourt. After Robert Morris hit a go-ahead 3 and Green Bay went 1-of-2 from the free throw line to tie the score, Nikolaos Chitikoudis scored the winning layup for Robert Morris with 2.4 seconds to play.