And now this season's final edition, probably, of The NFL In So Many Words, the endlessly self-derivative Blob feature of which critics have said "What do you mean 'probably'?", and also "Oh, nice! 'Probably!' Curse you with ampersands, hashmarks and other stand-ins for non-FCC approved swear words":
1. The Colts!
2. Also, the Colts!
3. And don't forget, THE COLTS!
4. In other news, the Bears!
5. (See Nos. 2 and 3 above)
6. "Aieee! It's Nick Foles!"
7. (Everyone in the NFC playoffs, allegedly, now that the Eagles are in and Foles is running the offense again.)
8. Hey, look! The Lions placekicker, ol' what's-his-face, just threw a touchdown pass!
9. "Big deal. I coulda done that, too, if Griese had worked with me a little. Selfish ampersand hashmark." (Garo Yepremian)
10. "Oh, no! The Colts!" (The Houston Texans)
Monday, December 31, 2018
Sunday, December 30, 2018
A brief cautionary tale
Word out of Nashville this a.m. is that Titans quarterback Marcus Mariota will sit out today's showdown game with the Colts, which no doubt will gladden the hearts of Horsie Nation. Without Mariota, after all, the Titans will have to go with Blaine Gabbert, and that cracks open the door to the playoffs just a tad wider.
The Blob has two words to say about this:
Billy.
Volek.
Who, back in 2008, came off the San Diego Chargers' bench in the fourth quarter of a playoff game in Indianapolis after Philip Rivers limped off with an injury. The Chargers were down 24-21 to Peyton Manning and the Colts and were without star running back LaDainian Tomlinson. The old Hoosier Dome was rocking. And here came a guy who'd played his college ball at Fresno State and who, in five NFL seasons, was just 3-7 as a starter.
So what happened?
He completed one pass. He completed another. Then he completed another, and pretty soon the Chargers were at the 1-yard line, and shortly thereafter Volek was sneaking it in for the winning score in a 28-24 upset of the Colts.
Volek was 3-of-4 passing for 48 yards on the drive. He never played in another playoff game. In 2011, he retired after playing just 39 games in nine NFL seasons.
In other words ... don't celebrate yet, folks. The Titans could still Volek this up.
The Blob has two words to say about this:
Billy.
Volek.
Who, back in 2008, came off the San Diego Chargers' bench in the fourth quarter of a playoff game in Indianapolis after Philip Rivers limped off with an injury. The Chargers were down 24-21 to Peyton Manning and the Colts and were without star running back LaDainian Tomlinson. The old Hoosier Dome was rocking. And here came a guy who'd played his college ball at Fresno State and who, in five NFL seasons, was just 3-7 as a starter.
So what happened?
He completed one pass. He completed another. Then he completed another, and pretty soon the Chargers were at the 1-yard line, and shortly thereafter Volek was sneaking it in for the winning score in a 28-24 upset of the Colts.
Volek was 3-of-4 passing for 48 yards on the drive. He never played in another playoff game. In 2011, he retired after playing just 39 games in nine NFL seasons.
In other words ... don't celebrate yet, folks. The Titans could still Volek this up.
Same story. Different day.
Well. At least the damn leprechauns have gone back where they came from.
They tried their best to pull the Blob into their fantasies, to make it believe Notre Dame had a chance when reason and logic screamed otherwise. Everyone knew what was going to happen, and of course it happened. But you can't sell a great big neon football game by admitting that.
And so, yes, for the briefest of moments, the Blob was tempted to ignore the obvious by those charged with selling those great big neon football games. For the briefest of moments.
But along about the time Dabo Swinney took his foot off the gas in last night's Cotton Bowl, that moment was long gone. Clemson won laughing, and how could we have ever thought otherwise? The final was 30-3, a counterfeit construct itself. When Swinney began sending in the scrubeenies after it got to 30-3, the truth was out there: The Clemsons could have named their score, but chose not to.
And Notre Dame?
The Irish had a fine year.
They were a better football team than the one that got rolled by Alabama back in the first blush of 2013.
But the Clemsons and the Alabamas and their ilk remain on a different level.
That's why everyone rolling out the E-word -- "exposed" -- in the wake of 30-3 are wrong, because to say the Irish were exposed implies that they were masquerading as something most people knew they were not. They were not Clemson or Alabama, or probably Oklahoma, which at least dropped 34 on 'Bama in a similarly predictable losing effort in the other national semifinal. And neither were they Georgia, an actual top four team which missed the playoffs because of one brain-cramp Saturday in Baton Rouge.
That was made abundantly obvious last night. But it was frankly obvious before that.
This is not to begrudge the Irish their place in the playoff; they earned that by going 12-0, and looking damn good doing it much of the time. And they did it against a schedule that, in a normal year, was as representative as anyone's.
In a normal year, a schedule that included a Michigan, a Stanford, a USC, a Florida State and a Syracuse is no less daunting than a schedule that included a Furman or a Citadel, as Clemson's and Alabama's did this year. Unfortunately, this was not a normal year for a lot of the traditional powers on Notre Dame's schedule -- a circumstance for which no one can blame Notre Dame.
Fact is, they played everyone who was put in front of them and beat them. Georgia did not, Ohio State did not, Michigan did not. Central Florida did, for the second straight year, but given a choice, who was more unbeaten? A school that beat Michigans and Stanfords, or a school that beat South Floridas and Temples?
And so the Irish got in, and the Irish went down, as expected. And Oklahoma went down, as expected. And the two best teams in the country will play for the national title, which is how it's all supposed to work out.
You can argue forever whether or not Notre Dame or Oklahoma deserved to be in the playoff. You can argue that the results last night suggest the playoff should be expanded to eight teams, a much better argument. But the plain truth is, the two best teams won, and they remain head-and-shoulders above everyone else.
In or out of the playoff. Worthy or unworthy. Exposed or not exposed.
They tried their best to pull the Blob into their fantasies, to make it believe Notre Dame had a chance when reason and logic screamed otherwise. Everyone knew what was going to happen, and of course it happened. But you can't sell a great big neon football game by admitting that.
And so, yes, for the briefest of moments, the Blob was tempted to ignore the obvious by those charged with selling those great big neon football games. For the briefest of moments.
But along about the time Dabo Swinney took his foot off the gas in last night's Cotton Bowl, that moment was long gone. Clemson won laughing, and how could we have ever thought otherwise? The final was 30-3, a counterfeit construct itself. When Swinney began sending in the scrubeenies after it got to 30-3, the truth was out there: The Clemsons could have named their score, but chose not to.
And Notre Dame?
The Irish had a fine year.
They were a better football team than the one that got rolled by Alabama back in the first blush of 2013.
But the Clemsons and the Alabamas and their ilk remain on a different level.
That's why everyone rolling out the E-word -- "exposed" -- in the wake of 30-3 are wrong, because to say the Irish were exposed implies that they were masquerading as something most people knew they were not. They were not Clemson or Alabama, or probably Oklahoma, which at least dropped 34 on 'Bama in a similarly predictable losing effort in the other national semifinal. And neither were they Georgia, an actual top four team which missed the playoffs because of one brain-cramp Saturday in Baton Rouge.
That was made abundantly obvious last night. But it was frankly obvious before that.
This is not to begrudge the Irish their place in the playoff; they earned that by going 12-0, and looking damn good doing it much of the time. And they did it against a schedule that, in a normal year, was as representative as anyone's.
In a normal year, a schedule that included a Michigan, a Stanford, a USC, a Florida State and a Syracuse is no less daunting than a schedule that included a Furman or a Citadel, as Clemson's and Alabama's did this year. Unfortunately, this was not a normal year for a lot of the traditional powers on Notre Dame's schedule -- a circumstance for which no one can blame Notre Dame.
Fact is, they played everyone who was put in front of them and beat them. Georgia did not, Ohio State did not, Michigan did not. Central Florida did, for the second straight year, but given a choice, who was more unbeaten? A school that beat Michigans and Stanfords, or a school that beat South Floridas and Temples?
And so the Irish got in, and the Irish went down, as expected. And Oklahoma went down, as expected. And the two best teams in the country will play for the national title, which is how it's all supposed to work out.
You can argue forever whether or not Notre Dame or Oklahoma deserved to be in the playoff. You can argue that the results last night suggest the playoff should be expanded to eight teams, a much better argument. But the plain truth is, the two best teams won, and they remain head-and-shoulders above everyone else.
In or out of the playoff. Worthy or unworthy. Exposed or not exposed.
Saturday, December 29, 2018
End of the beginning
OK, OK. So the Music City Bowl wasn't exactly a symphony for the Purdue Boilermakers.
No, if the Music City were set to music for these Purdues, it would be a country-and-western song, with all the appropriate themes. Dogs would die, cheatin' hearts would run off, the goldurn pickup truck would break down. Whisky, that ruinous drink, would lead to Folsom Prison. Sainted mothers would clutch the good book, mournful train whistles would blow, and finally redemption would be found in the shelterin' arms of Jesus.
Or, you know, something like that.
Everything but Mom and Jesus happened to Purdue yesterday, as we all got a reminder that half-assed SEC teams are still way better than half-assed Big Ten teams. The final was 63-14, one of the worst drubbings in Purdue history. Auburn led 56-7 at halftime. They scored 42 points in a virtual eyeblink. And the game ended with the Tigers on the Purdue 1-yard line, which means 70 points was just a measly step away.
And now, because we live in the knee-jerk biosphere of social media, the question will rise up from at least some segments of Boiler Land: "Why did we just drop that chunky new contract on Jeff Brohm?"
More perceptive segments will answer this way: "Because this is just a bump in the road. And we're just discovering how long that road is likely to be."
Here's the skinny: If yesterday illustrated anything, it wasn't that Brohm is just another counterfeit savior. It was an illustration, and a stark one, of the depths to which Purdue football has sunk in almost a decade of Danny Hope, Darrell Hazell and Morgan Burke's benign neglect. College football at the Power 5 level is so hyper-competitive that if you fall behind -- and Purdue fell not just behind but way behind -- catching up is the devil's own work. You need commitment, you need continuity, and mostly you need patience in bulk quantities.
The latter, of course, is the hardest to pull off in college football these days. It is as corporate an enterprise as exists anywhere, and that means there is money at stake, and that money is stake continually. Which in turn means the pressure to win now, and win always, is more relentless than it's ever been.
And so Auburn 63, Purdue 14, and a 6-7 season that followed a 7-6 season and a bowl win, is not the sort of performance arc that keeps the natives from getting restless. But it's still a step up, albeit an incremental one, for a program that was mostly spare parts and inch-thick dust when Brohm showed up. And there is reason to believe other upward steps are going to follow.
The biggest indicator is in recruiting, the life force of any program. Brohm delivered a top 25 recruiting class this year, and if that doesn't sound as sexy as, say, a top ten recruiting class, it's still yea better than what Purdue is used to. The last time Purdue had even a top 30 recruiting class, after all, was 13 years ago. That's an eternity when you're trying to keep up with the Auburns of the world.
As yesterday amply demonstrated, that process is still in the catch-up stage. And while it certainly didn't look like it, that process is underway.
It might have looked like the end of something. But maybe it was only the end of the beginning.
No, if the Music City were set to music for these Purdues, it would be a country-and-western song, with all the appropriate themes. Dogs would die, cheatin' hearts would run off, the goldurn pickup truck would break down. Whisky, that ruinous drink, would lead to Folsom Prison. Sainted mothers would clutch the good book, mournful train whistles would blow, and finally redemption would be found in the shelterin' arms of Jesus.
Or, you know, something like that.
Everything but Mom and Jesus happened to Purdue yesterday, as we all got a reminder that half-assed SEC teams are still way better than half-assed Big Ten teams. The final was 63-14, one of the worst drubbings in Purdue history. Auburn led 56-7 at halftime. They scored 42 points in a virtual eyeblink. And the game ended with the Tigers on the Purdue 1-yard line, which means 70 points was just a measly step away.
And now, because we live in the knee-jerk biosphere of social media, the question will rise up from at least some segments of Boiler Land: "Why did we just drop that chunky new contract on Jeff Brohm?"
More perceptive segments will answer this way: "Because this is just a bump in the road. And we're just discovering how long that road is likely to be."
Here's the skinny: If yesterday illustrated anything, it wasn't that Brohm is just another counterfeit savior. It was an illustration, and a stark one, of the depths to which Purdue football has sunk in almost a decade of Danny Hope, Darrell Hazell and Morgan Burke's benign neglect. College football at the Power 5 level is so hyper-competitive that if you fall behind -- and Purdue fell not just behind but way behind -- catching up is the devil's own work. You need commitment, you need continuity, and mostly you need patience in bulk quantities.
The latter, of course, is the hardest to pull off in college football these days. It is as corporate an enterprise as exists anywhere, and that means there is money at stake, and that money is stake continually. Which in turn means the pressure to win now, and win always, is more relentless than it's ever been.
And so Auburn 63, Purdue 14, and a 6-7 season that followed a 7-6 season and a bowl win, is not the sort of performance arc that keeps the natives from getting restless. But it's still a step up, albeit an incremental one, for a program that was mostly spare parts and inch-thick dust when Brohm showed up. And there is reason to believe other upward steps are going to follow.
The biggest indicator is in recruiting, the life force of any program. Brohm delivered a top 25 recruiting class this year, and if that doesn't sound as sexy as, say, a top ten recruiting class, it's still yea better than what Purdue is used to. The last time Purdue had even a top 30 recruiting class, after all, was 13 years ago. That's an eternity when you're trying to keep up with the Auburns of the world.
As yesterday amply demonstrated, that process is still in the catch-up stage. And while it certainly didn't look like it, that process is underway.
It might have looked like the end of something. But maybe it was only the end of the beginning.
Thursday, December 27, 2018
Shake down the tempters
Those damn leprechauns, they are at it again. No sooner does the Ghost of Christmas Present clear out than they are flooding my bedroom with sickly green light, appearing promptly on the stroke of zero dark thirty to whisper things in my ear I know are lies ... or think are lies ... or ...
Hell. I don't know what they are.
I do know this: I can hear 'em.
"The Irish can do this," they're whispering.
"This isn't the 2012 team," they're whispering.
"This team has athletes all over the depth chart, and they have a real quarterback, and no one has seriously challenged them except a couple times when they lost interest," they're whispering.
And then, the kicker:
"Plus, Clemson isn't that good. Really, it's not."
And, OK, yes, now I am almost convinced, in spite of myself. Because a lot of what the damn leprechauns are whispering is true, especially the Clemson part.
Yes, the Tigers are 13-0. But it's almost as counterfeit a 13-0 as Notre Dame's is.
Thirteen wins, and only three came against Division I opponents with more than seven wins. Six of Clemson's wins came against teams with either 7-6 or 7-5 records. One came against 2-10 Louisville. None came against teams with more than nine wins.
This is marginally better than Notre Dame, who beat six teams who were .500 or worse to get to 12-0. But I don't know if this means Clemson should be the prohibitive favorite it is in the Cotton Bowl. I think the wise guys in Vegas might be undervaluing the Irish this time, much as I am loathe to say it because I know what happens every time I say something like this.
"Nah, you're right this time," the leprechauns are whispering. "Vegas is undervaluing us."
Oh, shut up.
Hell. I don't know what they are.
I do know this: I can hear 'em.
"The Irish can do this," they're whispering.
"This isn't the 2012 team," they're whispering.
"This team has athletes all over the depth chart, and they have a real quarterback, and no one has seriously challenged them except a couple times when they lost interest," they're whispering.
And then, the kicker:
"Plus, Clemson isn't that good. Really, it's not."
And, OK, yes, now I am almost convinced, in spite of myself. Because a lot of what the damn leprechauns are whispering is true, especially the Clemson part.
Yes, the Tigers are 13-0. But it's almost as counterfeit a 13-0 as Notre Dame's is.
Thirteen wins, and only three came against Division I opponents with more than seven wins. Six of Clemson's wins came against teams with either 7-6 or 7-5 records. One came against 2-10 Louisville. None came against teams with more than nine wins.
This is marginally better than Notre Dame, who beat six teams who were .500 or worse to get to 12-0. But I don't know if this means Clemson should be the prohibitive favorite it is in the Cotton Bowl. I think the wise guys in Vegas might be undervaluing the Irish this time, much as I am loathe to say it because I know what happens every time I say something like this.
"Nah, you're right this time," the leprechauns are whispering. "Vegas is undervaluing us."
Oh, shut up.
Bowled over
We are now in the very beating heart of bowl season, which the Blob eagerly awaits every year because every year they add more exhibition games, er, Very Important Postseason Bowls.
This means the Blob can still hold out hope that the Shredded Tire Bowl will someday be a reality, and also the Luke Duke Jorts Bowl, and also the Oscar Mayer Bologna And Miracle Whip Bowl.
Alas, so far no luck. But at least we'll always have the fabulously epic First Responder Bowl.
OK, so, no. No, we won't.
This is because the First Responder Bowl did not, well, respond to expectations yesterday. Boston College and Boise State lined up and commenced playing down there in Dallas, and then an apocalyptic thunderstorm moved in, and there was a lightning strike and another and another -- six in all, eventually -- and by the time the lightning strikes were done, three hours had gone by with nothing much to show.
And so, at somewhere just past 3:30 p.m. local time in Dallas, they canceled the game.
Yes, you heard that right. They canceled a bowl game -- and not at, like, midnight, but in the middle of the afternoon. Just said, "Ah, to hell with it."
This just reinforces what the Blob has thought for some time, which is that the advent of the College Football Playoff has reduced 99 percent of all bowl games these days to meaningless exhibitions. And even the people putting them on realize it.
It's why more and more potential NFL draft picks opt to bail on them these days, to the grumbling of old-school types who cling to the quaint notion that high-end college football is still some rah-rah, all-for-one, one-for-all enterprise.
It's not. It's a business, and the players are the workforce, employed by the university for relative peanuts to sell the university's athletic brand. And so it should not be any surprise at all that the players have come to see it that way, too.
If their schools are building their brand on the "student-athletes'" backs, the "student-athletes" are in turn building their own brands in anticipation of the big payday at the next level. It's sort of an implied reciprocal relationship, which is why most coaches don't get all that bent out of shape when one of their future NFL draft picks opts out of the bowl game to better prepare for the draft -- and also to avoid a possible injury that would damage their draft stock.
In the meantime, enjoy the bowl games. Just remember what it is you're watching.
And also what it is you're not.
This means the Blob can still hold out hope that the Shredded Tire Bowl will someday be a reality, and also the Luke Duke Jorts Bowl, and also the Oscar Mayer Bologna And Miracle Whip Bowl.
Alas, so far no luck. But at least we'll always have the fabulously epic First Responder Bowl.
OK, so, no. No, we won't.
This is because the First Responder Bowl did not, well, respond to expectations yesterday. Boston College and Boise State lined up and commenced playing down there in Dallas, and then an apocalyptic thunderstorm moved in, and there was a lightning strike and another and another -- six in all, eventually -- and by the time the lightning strikes were done, three hours had gone by with nothing much to show.
And so, at somewhere just past 3:30 p.m. local time in Dallas, they canceled the game.
Yes, you heard that right. They canceled a bowl game -- and not at, like, midnight, but in the middle of the afternoon. Just said, "Ah, to hell with it."
This just reinforces what the Blob has thought for some time, which is that the advent of the College Football Playoff has reduced 99 percent of all bowl games these days to meaningless exhibitions. And even the people putting them on realize it.
It's why more and more potential NFL draft picks opt to bail on them these days, to the grumbling of old-school types who cling to the quaint notion that high-end college football is still some rah-rah, all-for-one, one-for-all enterprise.
It's not. It's a business, and the players are the workforce, employed by the university for relative peanuts to sell the university's athletic brand. And so it should not be any surprise at all that the players have come to see it that way, too.
If their schools are building their brand on the "student-athletes'" backs, the "student-athletes" are in turn building their own brands in anticipation of the big payday at the next level. It's sort of an implied reciprocal relationship, which is why most coaches don't get all that bent out of shape when one of their future NFL draft picks opts out of the bowl game to better prepare for the draft -- and also to avoid a possible injury that would damage their draft stock.
In the meantime, enjoy the bowl games. Just remember what it is you're watching.
And also what it is you're not.
Monday, December 24, 2018
Merry holidays!
Or Happy Christmas. Or whatever it is you're celebrating right now.
In any case, the Blob is taking a couple of days off to indulge in its own revelries.
("It's a Christmas miracle!" you're saying. Yes, I heard that.)
Be good. Hope all your holiday wishes come true, and no one leaves Nathan Peterman in your stocking. And just to send you on your way, I'll dust off my usual passage from Dickens, just to set the mood:
In any case, the Blob is taking a couple of days off to indulge in its own revelries.
("It's a Christmas miracle!" you're saying. Yes, I heard that.)
Be good. Hope all your holiday wishes come true, and no one leaves Nathan Peterman in your stocking. And just to send you on your way, I'll dust off my usual passage from Dickens, just to set the mood:
"Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea—on, on—until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him."
Merry Christmas, everyone.
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