News from Bowlville

It's Bowl Week in college football, boys and girls, which does not mean what it used to mean back in the day, because they play the Cotton Bowl on the second-to-last-day of the year now and the College Football Playoff has co-opted the rest of the traditional New Year's Day bowls, which are down to two.

Only one of which is allowed to call itself by its real name this year.

That would be the Sugar Bowl, which is also the CFP semifinal game pitting Clemson against some team that only played six games this year. The Ohio State Buckeyes won 'em all, though, which constitutes a playoff-worthy season in stupid 2020.

And the other semifinal?

Well, that would be the Can't Call It The Rose Bowl Due To Contractual Considerations, which they're playing in Dallas this year on account of the Bastard Plague. That's why they can't officially call it the "Rose Bowl," even though it is the Rose Bowl.

Notre Dame loses to Alabama in that one.

Wait, did I say "loses to"? I meant "plays". Plays Alabama. Understandable slip of the tongue, given that everyone in America expects the Crimson Tide to pound the Notre Dames into odd shapes and sizes.

What that means, of course, is the thing will either go four overtimes, or Notre Dame will do one of those Notre Dame things and Shock The World. I can hear Tom Clements and Robin Weber chuckling already at such a deliciously obvious setup.

Meanwhile, in other Exciting Bowl News ...

* Speaking of the Cotton Bowl, Oklahoma pounded Florida last night like a railroad spike, 55-20, which it turns out wasn't much of an achievement. The Gators, after all, were missing so many players -- 25 -- they could have legitimately (and likely should have) not played the game.  But the kids still present for duty wanted to play, so they played.

Among those who didn't were the Gators' three top receivers and star tight end Kyle Pitts. Pitts and two of the receivers decided to forego the bowl game to prepare for the NFL Draft, apparently having decided they'd made enough dough for the UF athletic department. The third wideout was a Bastard Plague casualty.

Once upon a time, when the Cotton Bowl was one of the Big Four New Year's Day bowls, it would have been unthinkable for anyone to voluntarily sit it out. But the teevees and the money-grubbing schools who eagerly vacuum up their dollars made the Cotton a warmup act years ago. Now it's just another condiment bowl, and players devalue it because everyone else has.

Hoist by their own petard, I believe this is called.

* Speaking of condiment bowls ...

They played the Duke's Mayo Bowl yesterday, which happened a day after the Cheez-It Bowl. Which means all we needed was an Oscar Mayer Bologna Bowl and we'd have had lunch.

Seriously, though, the Duke's Mayo Bowl has been an integral part of the bowl scene for, I don't know, five minutes or so, and so little wonder Wisconsin was geeked to win it. The trophy, one of the most hallowed in all of Sportsball World, was passed around from one gleeful Badger to the next, until the "Lenox crystal" football on top of it broke off in quarterback Graham Mertz's hand and crashed to the floor, shattering in a million pieces.

This would never happen to, say, the World Cup or the Stanley Cup, although plenty of hockey players have tried mightily over the years to break the latter. And it was quite a shock that it would happen to the trophy for the Duke's Mayo Bowl, given that it towers like the Colossus over all the other condiment bowls.

No worries, though. The Blob hears Big Lots has an excellent return program.

Forever redeemable

Dialed up a little college buckets on the tube the other day, and there was Kelvin Sampson, basking in the glow again. The broadcast team was talking about what a great job he's done at the University of Houston, which is ranked sixth in the nation right now. They traced his coaching roots from Washington State to Oklahoma to Indiana to Houston, and you know what was remarkable about that?

Not once did anyone mention the shenanigans that got OU in hot water while he was there.

Nor did anyone mention the same sort of shenanigans that got him fired at IU, and that left a proud program in pieces for Tom Crean to pick up.

This is because the redemptive powers of winning are rarely more redeeming than they are in college basketball, where a guy can get away with pretty much anything so long as he hangs the occasional banner in Corporate Benefactor Arena and doesn't turn his hoops facility into a brothel (See: Rick Pitino). Other than that, you can be as sketchy as you want.

Case in point: The University of Arizona.

Where the head coach of one of the sketchiest programs in college hoops is still the head coach, even though his university just went into cringe mode because of shenanigans that have happened on his watch.

In October ESPN and The Athletic reported that the NCAA whacked 'Zona with nine rules violations, including five Level I infractions. All of it stemmed from the 2017 federal investigation into corruption in college basketball, in which a former Arizona assistant pleaded guilty to felony conspiracy to commit bribery  accused of accepting $20,000 from a wannabe sports agent to steer Arizona players his way.

Along the way, the assistant was caught on a wiretap telling the agent that Arizona head coach Sean Miller was slipping former player Deandre Ayton a $10,000-a-month handshake. Miller of course denied this.

Then came Tuesday.

On Tuesday, Arizona announced it was self-imposing a one-year postseason ban in response to the NCAA charges. The statement from the school said the decision acknowledged that there had been "serious lapses in judgment and a departure from the University's expectation of fair and ethical behavior" on the part of "certain former members of the MBB staff."

Of course, it said nothing about the guy under whom the serious lapses occurred. And who, again, still has his job.

That would be, again, Sean Miller. 

Who was tagged by the NCAA with failure of head coach control, but who has won 292 games in 12 seasons in Tucson, with three Pac-12 Tournament and five regular season titles and three conference Coach of the Year titles. And whose Wildcats are off to a 7-1 start this season.

Just in case you were wondering why he still has his job.

He still has his job for the same reason Kelvin Sampson is riding high at Houston now and Rick Pitino is back in the saddle at Iona, and Bruce Pearl, bounced from Tennessee for his own shenanigans, is still in the SEC at Auburn -- even though the school has self-imposed its own postseason ban in response to NCAA charges against Pearl's program.

It's because they can coach. It's because of those 292 victories at Arizona and Sampson's  637 victories in 31 seasons, and the 131 wins, two SEC titles and Final Four appearance Pearl has produced in seven seasons at Auburn.

The rest of it?

Why, take it from that broadcast team.

It's not worth mentioning.

A few brief thoughts on NFL Week 15

 And now this week's edition of The NFL In So Many Words, the kicking-2020-out-on-its-hindparts Blob feature of which critics have said "Can we kick the Blob feature out on its hindparts, too?", and also, "What's more annoying than 2020? This.":

1. "Can we kick Alvin Kamara out on his hindparts? Because he WON'T STOP SCORING TOUCHDOWNS!" (The Vikings)

2. "Dammit, Alvin! STOP!" (Also the Vikings)

3. In other news, Dwayne Haskins of the Washington We've Got No Idea What To Name This Team had himself a week: He broke 'Rona protocols, played horribly and was cut from the team. But first he got benched in favor of some guy named Taylor Heineken.

4. Heidelberg.

5. OK, Heinicke, then. Yeah. That's it.

6. Maybe.

7. Meanwhile, the Colts!

8. Rolled to a 24-7 halftime lead and clinched the playoffs with a rollicking win over the  Pittsburgh Stee-

9. "Crap!" (The Colts)

10. "Crap!" (The Browns, upon losing to the 1-13 Jets)

2020. A fond reverie.

 And now the traditional look back at the year in Sportsball, which is not traditional at all because no one wants to traditionally look back at 2020, a year that drove drunk and ran over a whole bunch of people before climbing out of the car, laughing and saying, "Why, looky here! I got me one of them presidential pardons!"

The presidential pardons of baby killers and other degenerate scum, of course, being just one of the vomit-inducing things that happened in 2020.

And so instead of the traditional look back at a year which is still stealing our childhood Sportsball icons at the 11th hour -- it took K.C. Jones and Phil Niekro over the holiday weekend -- the Blob has decided not to accord 2020 a fond look back. It has decided instead to fantasize about all the ways it would like to usher 2020 out the door:

1. Strap it to a chair in a brightly-lit room and force it to watch the New York Jets play football.

2. Strap it to a chair in a brightly-lit room full of Cleveland Browns fans and force it to listen to them wail and gnash their teeth after watching the Browns lose to the Jets.

3. Strap it to a chair in a brightly-lit room and let the ghosts of Bob Gibson and Tom Seaver throw fastballs at its head for all eternity.

4. Strap it to a chair in a brightly-lit room and force it watch Mike Tyson vs. Roy Jones for all eternity.

5. Dress it up as a Tampa Bay Rays executive and make it defend trading Blake Snell.

6. Dress it up as a college football executive and stick a red-hot poker in its eye until it admits it screwed Indiana out of a New Year's Day bowl just because it was Indiana.

7. Eject it into space along with Grayson Allen, on account of Grayson Allen is still a thorough-going punk.*

(*See: Tripping Trae Young in an NBA game the other day. Same old Grayson.)

8. Let 2020 hang around until January 20 and eject it into space along with Our Only Available Outgoing President.

9. Send Crazy Rudy and Crazy Sidney Powell along for the ride.

And last but not least ...

10. Make it spend all eternity listening to Jets' fans  bitch and moan about their STUPID FOOTBALL TEAM which decided to win a couple of worthless games NOW and blow the top pick in the draft.

The Useless Presents*

 (*A reference from "A Child's Christmas In Wales" by Dylan Thomas, one of the Blob's favorite Christmas tales for its lyricism and its wonder)

Now, where were we?

Oh, yes. Useless Presents.

This being the weekend of toting up what Santa done brung us, the Blob has decided to list a few Sportsball World gifts the giftees were definitely not happy  to see. They all play in the Coal In The Stocking Conference, some in the Socks Again? Division and some in the Well, It Said On The Box "Batteries Included" Division.

Let's begin ...

1. The 1-6 Kentucky Wildcats 

Just what every soul who bleeds blue wanted to see under the tree: A horribly dysfunctional UK team that couldn't even beat Richmond, for pity's sake. The Kats' only win so far was against a crummy Morehead State team in the first game of the season. Go Blue!

2. The 5-4 Indiana Hoosiers

Remember back when Indiana was thumping Providence by 21? Didn't that feel good, Hoosier Nation? Didn't it look like the Hoo-Hoo-Hoosiers had an abundance of talent, depth, exciting young players and the ability not to brick it up from the 3-point line?

Well, then you opened that big shiny present with the huge bow, and it was just Indiana again.

Lost to Texas by 22 the next time out. Beat Stanford. Lost to Florida State, Beat Butler. Lost at home to Northwestern. Lost by nine to Illinois. Still can't shoot threes, having made more than 40 percent just once all season.

In other words: Same-old, same-old.

3. Cam Newton

Imagine the disappointment across New England when little Jah-nny opened up his new Patriots quarterback and discovered it was the same old Cam Newton Action Figure.

"Where's the Kung-Fu Grip?" disappointed little Jah-nny complained. "Where's the Return To Super Bowl Cam option? And WHY DID TOM BRADY HAVE TO LEAVE??"

4.  Tom Brady

Who, six days after Cam and the Patriots officially were eliminated from the playoffs, emerged on TV sets all over New England on the day after Christmas to go 22-of-27 for 348 yards and four touchdowns against the poor Lions, as the 10-4 Buccaneers locked up a playoff spot.

"Dammit!" (New Englanders everywhere)

And last but not least ...

5. My Cruddy Pittsburgh Pirates

Who, when I tore open the wrapping, did NOT include Josh Bell, their best player. And why?

Because, as usual, the miserly Scrooge-like skinflints who own the Pirates did what they always do, which is trade their best player just when it comes time to pay him real money. This time they sent Bell to Washington for the usual couple of anonymous young pitchers.

Of course, should either Wil Crowe or Eddy Yean, the young pitchers, amount to anything, my cruddy Pirates will immediately trade  them for a couple more anonymous young pitchers.

Which means my cruddy Pirates are not really a major-league franchise at all, but a minor-league team that does what minor-league teams do: Develop talent and send it up the food chain.

Merry Christmas to me.

Holiday fail

I never liked holiday basketball tournaments.

I never liked the idea of giving high school kids Christmas Day off and then, on the day after, hauling them back into the gym to play a two-or-three-day tournament because why not.  I mean, who would want schoolkids to actually get a break on their Christmas break?

Now, I confess, this was not my only reasoning. Mostly my reasoning involved self-interest, as it usually does for sportswriters. Truth is, I wanted a break at Christmas, too. And holiday high school basketball tournaments righteously fenged that shui.

(I wasn't alone, either. I know of at least one area high school coach back in the day who hated the local holiday tournament. And for the same reason I did, though he framed it as a break for the kids. Didn't fool me, though.)

In any event, watching Big Ten basketball on Christmas Day yesterday brought all that back to me.

It's not that I didn't enjoy watching Michigan State and Wisconsin slug it out or Purdue beat Maryland or Minnesota get the lordly Iowa Hawkeyes up there in its icy lair and knock 'em off. And I got the argument for it: The players were all bubbled-up away from their families anyway, so why not play?

But something about it just felt wrong. And that something, of course, is what's wrong with corporate college athletics in general.

It's that the basketball players at Michigan State or Wisconsin or Iowa are a workforce that generates billions for its universities, yet their universities persist with the fiction that they're not a workforce. They're "student-athletes", silly, playing for the glory of Dear Old Whatsammatta U.

For that they get a break on their books and tuition. What could be more fair?

Well. Yesterday once again exposed the cynicism behind all that.

Yesterday the workforce was treated like any other workforce, because sometimes workers are compelled to work on holidays. And so the workforce worked, and the Big Ten made some more dough, grasping business entity that it is.

And the Big Ten, of course, is more grasping than most. It's why a Big 12 school (Nebraska) and an ACC school (Maryland) and a Big East school (Rutgers) are now part of the "Big Ten." More schools, more moolah.

Of course, the Big Ten's TV partners made all this sound like the coolest deal ever -- Christmas Day basketball! What could be better? -- and the "student-athletes" played along. They thought it was pretty cool, too, working on the holiday. Or at least they pretty convincingly said they did.

Me, I wondered what would happen to the kid who went on Zoom and said it kinda sucked having to play a game on Christmas Day. I'm guessing a few gassers might have been in his immediate future, and maybe a scooch down the bench.

On the other hand ...

Well, maybe I'm just cynical, too. Like the Bastard Plague, it tends to be contagious.

That eve

Christmas Eve now, and at last a break from Crazytown 2020. A brief pause, if you will, for those who do so to observe the birth of a Prince of Peace whose grace transcends the madness of kings and wanna-be kings.

Which is to say: Happy Merry Holidays Christmas, everyone. Health and good fortune and every other blessing to you and yours from the Blob, which occasionally can be less glib than usual if it really tries.

This being Christmas Eve, and Christmas Eve being the province of such things, here's one of the Blob's yearly traditions -- a snippet of Dickens I always recycle on this date:

"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.