Gordie

 Gordon Johncock died yesterday in the full measure of 90 years, and there goes another piece of IndyCar's golden years. There was Gordie and A.J. and Mario and J.R. and Bobby and Al and luckless Lloyd Ruby, and don't forget  McCluskey and McElreath and Donohue and Dallenbach, too.

Those were the days, as someone once said. That was the cast that sucked in a skinny kid with Coke bottle glasses, and holds him fast to this day.

That kid was me, of course, who became an Indianapolis 500 nerd because of Gordie 'n' them, and remains one here in late autumn of my years. It is ridiculous, how cluttered my brain is with geeky morsels from that race and that time. And so I can tell you a few things about Gordon Johncock, gone now to his reward.

I can tell you he was the quiet one from the rookie class of 1965 at Indy, the one that contained Mario and Al and Joe Leonard and sports car star Masten Gregory, and six other rookies. Gordie was driving one of only three front-engine roadsters that year, as the rear-engine revolution reached flood tide. But he finished fifth, behind Jim Clark in his rear-engine Lotus Ford and Parnelli Jones in his rear-engine Kuzma-Lotus Ford and Mario in his rear-engine Brawner Ford and Al Miller in his rear-engine Lotus Ford.

The next year, Gordie was wheeling a rear-engine car, too, on his way to a 26-year career that would see him win 25 champ car races and the 1976 champ car title. Along the way, eight years after '65, he had the bad luck to win the 500 no one wants to remember.

That was the 57th running in 1973, which took three days to run because of rain, killed crewman Armando Teran and driver Swede Savage, and was finally put out of its misery by more rain after 133 laps. It was a pinnacle moment Johncock likely couldn't properly celebrate, because no one did. Everyone was just glad it was over.

Which makes 1982 a redemption of sorts for the little guy from Hastings, Mich., 35 miles northeast of Kalamazoo.

See, Gordie won the 500 that year, too, and this time it was memorable for all the right reasons. Who could forget the last 10 laps, when Rick Mears kept getting closer and closer while Gordie used every bit of his considerable skill to stay in front of him?

By the last lap, Mears was on him like white on rice, but somehow Gordie held him off. Took the checkers 0.16 seconds in front, the closest finish ever to that point.

I was there that day, weirdly, as a civilian, because usually I was there as a member of the working press. Across four decades, it was one of only two 500s I didn't cover for one newspaper or another.

What I remember, hazily, are those last ten laps, and how that distinctive Indy 500 surf-sound of the crowd got louder and louder with every one. Made me fall in love with Indy and the month of May all over again.

So thanks for that, Gordie. And for everything else of which you were a part.

A few brief thoughts on NFL Week 3

 And now this week's edition of The NFL In So Many Words -- the multidimensional Blob that features time travel and teleporting, and of which critics have said "Can we go back to a time before you thought up this crap?", and also "Imma send you to another dimension with my fist, pal":

1. In Chicago, Case Keenum arrives from 2014, throws for two scores and runs for another, and helps the Bears pave the Eagles, 27-7.

2. "Hey, no fair! You can't add a guy from 2014 to your roster!" (The Eagles)

3. "Oh, yeah?" (Mike Singletary, who arrived from 1985 and made nine tackles for loss)

4. In other news, Drake Maye's doppelganger and Justin Herbert's doppelganger from an alternate universe where quarterbacks play like goofs continued to play like goofs. Maye threw three picks in the Patriots' 35-6 wipeout against the Jaguars, and Herbert threw a horrendous pick and the Bills dropped two others in the latter's 24-16 win over the Chargers.

5. "We're Brazil's Team!" (The Cowboys, teleported to Rio de Janeiro to play the Ravens)

6. "No, you're not!" (The Ravens, who won the Teleport Bowl on a last-second field goal)

7. "Hey, no fair! You can't add 2011 Aaron Rodgers to your roster!" (The Bengals, who lost 30-27 to the Steelers as Rodgers threw for 292 yards and three scores)

8. "I feel like I'm 27 again! Oh, wait I am!" (Aaron Rodgers, who's actually either 42, 57 or 65)

9. "Hey, no fair! How come we can't add 2011 Aaron Rodgers to OUR roster?" (The Packers, for whom 2011 Rodgers actually played, and who were trucked in Lambeau by the Falcons, 35-14)  

10.  "Woo-hoo! We're 2-1! Feels like we've been teleported back to '86, '87 or any number of other years when our hearts got curb-stomped!" (Browns fans) 

Observations

 Some cool stuff happened over a Sportsball-engorged weekend, and some not so cool stuff, and some frankly abominable stuff from the usual abominable suspects. Therefore the Blob will depart from its usual windy pontificating to offer some brief observations in a feature we'll call, cleverly, "Some Cool Stuff And Not So Cool Stuff And Frankly Abominable Stuff":

* In Detroit, my Pittsburgh No-Longer-Cruds-For-Now beat the Tigers yesterday, 4-2, thereby finishing the 2026 season 82-80. It's the former Cruds' first winning season in eight years, and they also finished third in the NL Central for the first time in a decade.

So here at the Blob, we don't care if you don't care. Raise a cheer anyway, losers.

* Also in Detroit ... on Saturday, when Justin Verlander's young daughter escorted him off the mound after his last game, and the plate umpire saluted him, if your throat didn't get tight you have no soul.

* Desman Stephens II's brutal hit on a sliding Dante Moore in Saturday's USC-Oregon was not the most egregious thing about the whole incident. Seen in real time, Moore slid late and Stephens was already committed. This doesn't mean it wasn't a cheap shot and Stephens didn't deserve his ejection; it only means football at that level is played at warp speed, and so you can understand (well, I can, anyway) how hits like that happen sometimes.

No, what was egregious was Stephens celebrating the hit while Moore lay unconscious and twitching on the field. And USC coach Lincoln Riley not on only not stopping him, but allowing Stephens to remain on sidelines. A real football coach would have banished him to the locker room for the rest of the afternoon.

(Postscript: To his credit, Riley did announce Sunday he was suspending Stephens for one game. Maybe he came to his senses, or the viral blowback from the incident forced his hand.)

* Congratulations, or something, to the Colorado Rockheads, king of baseball's Cruds for the second year in a row. The 'Heads finished 58-104, a comfortable 42 games out of first in the NL West, and four full games ahead of MLB's next Cruddiest team, the Los Angeles Mange-els. It was the fourth straight season Colorado has lost at least 100 games.

So "Huzzah!" to the Mile High Defile.

* In golf news, Team USA came from way back to win its 11th straight President's Cup, beating the International team 17-13. The Americans won nine of the 12 singles matches Sunday, an historic beatdown witnessed by President Donald John "Get My Good Side" Trump, who was on hand to present the trophy.

The President was so excited he immediately signed an executive order to rename it the America's Cup, thereby honking off yacht racers everywhere. Then he grabbed the trophy and ran off with it to his waiting motorcade.

(OK, so he didn't either of those things. But you know he wanted to.)

* And speaking of our Fearless Leader ...

Word came down over the weekend that his Regime is looking into building a ballpark somewhere in Grand Teton National Park, at the request of Major League Baseball. Apparently Fearless Leader 'n' them think this would be a lovely idea, on account of there's nothing they like better than pissing on nature.

Those of us who do not enjoy that pastime would prefer MLB commish Rob Manfred -- who put this benighted idea in F.L.'s head -- be taken on a scouting trip to the Tetons, smeared with honey and left in the path of a grizzly.

"The claws!" Manfred screamed. "Oh, God, the CLAWS!" ...

Beautiful.

The glorious unknowable

 Script? We don't need no stinking script!

-- From "Treasure of the Sierra Madre," almost

What makes college football the best kind of football happened in several places this week, but mostly in Ann Arbor, Mich., and State College, Pa., and Gainesville, Fla. Oh, and Los Angeles, Calif., and Baton Rouge, La., too.

Call it the glorious unknowable, for want of a better term. Plus a healthy disdain for scripts.

But first, how about some John Lennon?

Instant karma's gonna get you

Gonna knock you right on the head ...

Which brings us back to Ann Arbor, and also L.A.

In the former, your Michigan Wolverines had another Big House win all wrapped up in a neat bow, and then they didn't. They were leading 19-14, and the visiting Iowa Hawkeyes had jumped offside on a crucial fourth-and-inches and then missed the subsequent field goal attempt. Now they had the ball on their own 10-yard line or so with not quite two orbits of the clock left.

So of course they marched right down the field and -- on the last play of the game, as the final two seconds drained away -- scored a touchdown to steal it off UM's plate, 20-19. 

So how does John Lennon figure into this?

Because a few weeks back, Michigan stole one off Western Michigan's plate because the Wolverines got a do-over on their own throw into the end zone. The game clock showed zeroes, but the game officials -- who were not, contrary to rumor, the same zebras who gave the Soviets three chances to beat the Americans in the 1972 Olympic basketball final -- decided zero wasn't really zero. So Michigan, given a reprieve, stuck the landing this time to win the game.

A lot of people outside of Ann Arbor didn't think that was fair. Thus a lot of people thought Iowa stealing one in the last second was, you know, instant karma.

Meanwhile, out in L.A., the USC Trojans got a helping of instant karma, too. After a brutal late hit sent Oregon quarterback Dante Moore to the hospital in an ambulance, the incensed Ducks commenced pounding lumps on the home team. Backup QB Dylan Raiola came in, threw for 289 yards and two scores, and No. 20 Oregon, up 13-10 at the time, outscored No. 12 USC 28-17 the rest of the way in a 41-27 rump-roasting. Quack-quack.

And speaking of rump-roastings ...

Here came Trinidad Chambliss and No. 4 Ole Miss into Gainesville still enjoying the afterglow of last week's emotional win over LSU, and the Florida Gators said "Afterglow this, b*tches," or something similar. They turned loose running backs Jadan Baugh and Duke Clark, trampled Ole Miss with 302 rushing yards, and swamped the Rebels in the Swamp, 52-28.

And have we mentioned yet what happened in State College?

Penn State was all over Wisconsin as expected, because, what, you thought the Badgers were going to win in a place where they hadn't won since 2002? Heck, they hadn't beaten the Nittany Lions anywhere in 15 years. So when Penn State went up 17-0, everyone figured it was just more of the same.

But then quarterback Colton Joseph started throwing, and the Badgers defense got prickly, and Wisky outscored the No. 13 Nittany Lions 24-3 the rest of the way, including a 72-yard Joseph touchdown pass with 1:13 remaining. 

Meanwhile, Minnesota took the long roadie out to Seattle, jumped out 24-10 on the Washington Huskies, and held on for a 27-24 win.

Also meanwhile, LSU, still smarting from last week's loss at Ole Miss, came back home to poleax Texas A&M 35-6 in what was supposed to be one Saturday's marquee matchups.

"Script? We don't need no stinking script!" LSU coach Lane Kiffin said when it was done.

OK, so he didn't say that. But you get the idea.

Boiler ... something

 Your Purdue Boilermakers welcome Notre Dame to Ross-Ade today for the traditional rivalry game/ritual sacrifice, and maybe we'll find out if they're actually new and improved or if they're still just Purdue. There have been hints so far the former might be true, but ND will be the measuring stick.

The Irish, after all, are undefeated, ranked ranked third in the nation and, except for one "meh" half, have mostly cruised so far. They've also dropped 122 points on the Boilers in their last two meetings.

Two years ago, it was 66-7. Last year, it was 56-30. 

Today?

Well, today, we're looking at a result closer to last year than the year before, by all indications. Which is to say, in three games the Purdues have hinted that they have another of those Quarterback U. quarterbacks (Ryan Browne), and a pretty good running back with a marvelous name (Fame Ijeboi), and more athletes at more positions than they've had in awhile.

Unfortunately, most of them seem to be on the offensive side of the ball. Also unfortunately, they can't seem to shake the inclination to Purdue it up on occasion.

The latter is why the Boilers come to today's tilt 1-2 instead of 2-1, because two weeks ago they flat out gave one away to Wake Forest. Had a six-point lead and Wake backed up fourth-and-15 in the second overtime, only to surrender the first down because they unaccountably chose to play a soft cover instead of bringing the kind of pressure that had put the Demon Deacons in fourth-and-15 to begin with.

Two plays later, Wake scored. Then the Deacons made the two-point conversion for the walk-off win.

So instead of 2-0, the Boilers were 1-1 heading out to the Rose Bowl last week to take on UCLA. But, hey, look at this: They put up 38 points and 488 total yards against the Bruins, with Browne looking very Quarterback U-ish: 19-of-30 passing, 378 yards and three touchdowns. Ijeboi added two more sixes on the ground.

However ...

However, UCLA scored 56 points. Piled up 645 yards. Rushed for 369 yards and averaged a yawning 7.7 yards per carry. Hogged the football for a shade over 36 minutes to just under 24 minutes for Purdue.

Most disturbing part of that: UCLA was flagged 12 times for 103 yards in penalties. Which makes you wonder how many points the Bruins could have scored had they not been quite so sloppy.

It also pretty much erases the notion that the Boilers could pull off the shocking upset today, as they famously have on several occasions in this ancient series. 

 No, sir. I'm thinking 56-30, Notre Dame, gets it about right. 

In which case, "Boiler up" will continue to be "Boiler ... something."

The first superstar

 Saw on the news the other day that Bob Pettit passed, and it's OK if you don't know the name. He may have been the NBA's first superstar, but no superstar has ever been more cursed by his time and his circumstance than the 6-9 backbone of the old St. Louis Hawks.

Pettit died in his native Louisiana at the full-to-the-top age of 93, but back when the world was young no one in the still-infant NBA could stop him. He was Jordan and LeBron and Kareem and Bird all in one, and he did MJ and LeBron and Kareem and Bird things.

A star at LSU, he played 11 seasons in the NBA , was an All-Star in every one, and was the All-Star game MVP a record four times. In 1956, he was the league's first Most Valuable Player. And in 1958, in Game Six of the NBA Finals, he scored 50 points to beat Red Auerbach and the Boston Celtics and clinch the Hawks' only title.

No one scored 50 points in a game those days, long before the advent of the three-ball and the NBA's current addiction to it. That was an MJ sort of deal. It was a Kobe or Steph or even a Shai Gilgeous-Alexander sort of deal.

All of whose names you know, of course. But maybe not Bob Pettit's.

That's because he played his entire career in a small Midwestern market before ESPN, before FS1, before Apple TV and Prime and Peacock and all those choke-a-horse TV deals.  Before the NBA went global. Back when even the NFL was an afterthought.

So he toiled mostly in obscurity, and that's a damn shame. Because by the time Bob Pettit retired after the 1964-65 season, he was the NBA's all-time leader in points with 20,880. He was second in rebounds with 12,849. For his career, he averaged 26.2 points and 16.2 boards and was the first big man to play a good share of the time facing the basket.

In other words, for his time, he was a singular talent. The problem was his time was not this time, or even the time when he retired. Because by the time he took his bows in '65, the nation was starting to notice the pro game -- largely, of course, because of Red Auerbach's Celtics.

Bob Pettit never got in on that, playing when he did and where he did. More's the pity.

Chicago ... Chicago ...

 ... that toddlin' town ...

And now you're saying this: "'Toddlin'?' 'Toddlin'?' What the heck does that even mean, Mr. Blob?" 

Hell if I know. Hey, I didn't write the song. But that's the song, so stop whinging and nitpicking and just sing it loud and proud, OK?

Sing it loud and proud, because yesterday, the Chicago Cubs clinched a playoff spot with a W over the woeful Miami Marlins. Also yesterday -- on the EXACT SAME DAY -- the Chicago White Sox clinched a playoff spot, too, with a W over the woeful Kansas City Royals.

You know how many times both Chicago baseball teams have made the playoffs, in all of the long and mythology-spangled history of our once-upon-a-time national game?

Three times. And they never clinched on the same day.

First time it happened was in 1906, when the southsiders upset the northsiders in an all-Chi World Series. It was an entire century plus two years before it happened again, in 2008. And then it happened again in the Covid-shortened 2020 season.

And speaking of the White Sox in particular ...

Know how many times a team coming off back-to-back-to-back 100-loss seasons has made the playoffs?

Not once. Not ever. No even when the Brooklyn Eckfords were tooling up on the New York Mutuals or something back in the 1860s.

The Pale Hose lost 106 games in 2023, but they were just getting started. In 2024, they lost more games than any team in the history of the modern game, going 41-121 and finishing an astounding 51 1/2 games out of first in the AL Central. They followed that with 102 losses last season.

So three years, 329 losses. But this season?

Well, the Sox are 82-77, one game behind the first-place Cleveland Guardians in the AL Central heading into the last weekend of the season. So it's conceivable -- not probable, but conceivable -- they could win or tie for the division title, one year after finishing dead last, 28 games out of first.

In 2025, the southsiders won 61 games. At 82 heading into the weekend, they're already 21 games better than they were a year ago -- and an astounding 41 better than just two years ago.

A 41-game improvement in two seasons? Last place by 51 1/2 games to the playoffs? Who does that?

Your Chicago White Sox, that's who. In like Flynn with their northside rivals.

Toddlin' town, indeed.