Big Tin

 Gee, thanks a LOT, Ohio State. Now we'll never hear the end of it from those southern-fried goobers.

In the marquee game of the unofficial (sort of) Big Ten-SEC Challenge yesterday, The Ohio State University, the No. 1 team in the land, swallowed a Buckeye wrong and yakked one up to No. 4 Texas. The  Tree Nuts did this despite leading 23-3 going into the fourth quarter, in Austin, making all those burnt-orange fanatics grab their heads in dismay.

So the Big Ten was looking pretty, pretty, pretty good, to quote Larry David. Earlier in the day, Michigan had  taken down No. 11 Oklahoma in a throwback defensive battle that must have had Bo Schembechler tugging on his "M" cap in approval up there on the Big Sideline. Ohio State washing Texas would make it 2-0 over ranked SEC schools for the Big Ten, and neener-neener-neener.

(And, yes, I know, Mississippi State laminated Minnesota 38-13. So, technically, with a quarter to play in Austin, the Big Ten was up only 2-1 on the SEC.  But it was Mississippi State and Minnesota, so who really cared?)

Where was I again?

Oh, yeah, Ohio State absolutely spanking the Longhorns after three quarters, looking like much the better team by a long chalk. Julian Saylin was throwin' and Jeremiah Smith was catchin' and Bo Jackson was runnin' AND catchin', and so much for the epic showdown. The Longhorns were steak nuggets on a plate.

And then ...

And then Arch Manning started running and throwing, and one of the great names in college football this year -- Hollywood Smothers, I kid you not -- started slithering through cracks in the Ohio State front, and, hey, look, the Longhorns finally breached the end zone.

Then they did it again.

And, then, after Ohio State missed a 45-yard field goal attempt that would have closed the door with 4:16 left, Hollywood vaulted into the end zone to win it for the 'Horns with 25 seconds showing.

Made Lam Jones and Ham Jones proud. Also Cotton Speyrer. Also Happy Feller, Duke Carlisle and everyone else on the Longhorn All-Name Team.

Final score: Texas 24, Ohio State 23. Final fourth-quarter score: Texas 21, Ohio State 0. Final Big Ten/SEC score: SEC 2, Big Ten 1.

"Thank God for Michigan," a Big Ten fan might said, if such things are actually said outside of Ann Arbor these days.

Thank God, too, that Saturday's over, because it wasn't a red-letter day for the Big Tin generally. Iowa did manage to come from behind to beat rival Iowa State in the Farmall Bowl (OK, so nobody calls it that), but No. 6 Oregon went down to Stillwater, Okla., and got shelved by unranked Oklahoma State, 39-31. Duke sashayed into Champaign and took down Illinois. And Purdue ...

Ah, geez, Purdue. Geez.

Purdue had its first win in three years over a Power 4 school safely battened down, but then it Purdue-ed it up. The Boilermakers erased a 10-point deficit in the last four minutes to force overtime, and, after the fabulously named Fame Ijeboi (it's a great year for names in college football, apparently) scored to put Purdue up 36-30 in the second OT, the Boilers had Wake Forest down a hole on its possession: Fourth down, 15 yards to go, everyone in Ross-Ade howling for the imminent W.

And then ...

"They blew it, didn't they?" you're saying now.

Yes they did.

Instead of bringing the house on fourth down, the Boilers went into cover mode (aka: faint-heart mode). That gave Wake QB Gio Lopez breathing room to make a play, which of course he did. Threw a pass to Carlos Hernandez, who either stepped out of bounds short of the first-down marker (Purdue's version), or extended the football enough to get the first (the officials' version).

 Couple of plays later, Lopez scored to tie it. Then he skipped into the end zone for the two-point conversion and the win, 38-36.

Ah, geez, Purdue.

And also: Ah, geez, Big Tin.

A shamelessly partisan post

(In which the Blob dons its Ball State University cap, says "Chirp-chirp!" and talks about the gallant fight the Cardinals put up against No. 1 Ohio State last week. Among other things.)

Wait, did I say "gallant fight"?

Well, by golly, that's what it was. The Cards marched into Columbus and gave the la-di-dah Buckeyes all they wanted before barely losing 56-3, mainly because Ohio State cheated by having way better players.

Nonetheless, the Cardinals valiantly did not get shut out, so that's a W. Also they valiantly came within 1:55 of beating the spread, which means all those fools who bet large on the Buckeyes came close to losing money.

So, you know, the Cards have that going for them.

Know what else they have going for them?

They're back in Muncie today for their home opener, and it's not against Ohio State. It's against the Stony Brook Seawolves from Stony Brook, N.Y., a research school with an enrollment of 18,500 undergrads that styles itself the official university of Long Island.

The Seawolves play in the Colonial Athletic Association, along with your Maines, your Monmouths, your Elons and your Campbells, plus a handful of Rhode Islands, Towsons and New Hampshires. So does that mean the Cardinals, a proud member of the mighty Mid-American Conference, should handle their business today?

Far be it from me to succumb to bias and say yes, but ... yes.

And Ohio State?

Having narrowly escaped failing to cover last week, the Buckeyes travel to Austin, Texas to take on the No. 4 Longhorns. The 'Horns are probably a better football team than my Cardinals -- I'll go out on a limb here and say they could well be -- so Ohio State will have another fight on its hands. Also a Manning is the Texas quarterback, perhaps an upgrade over the Cardinals' 5-10 mighty mite, Keldric Luster.

I expect Keldric to stand tall today against the Stony Brooks, or as tall as a 5-10 guy can stand. And I expect the Cardinals to dispatch the Seawolves in handy fashion, say, 35-10. Or 42-10. Whatever.

And the Buckeyes?

They will pay for last week's insolence. They will pay.

The names, and the message

 A quarter-century now since that blue September morning, since the planes went into the buildings and a field east of Pittsburgh, and what have we learned? What have we learned about ourselves, and about the grand experiment that is America?

We have learned our comfortable assumptions about our comfortable American lives are a chimera, a cheap toy that jitters apart at the touch.

We have learned when that happens, some of us run toward the jackstraw ruins, and some of us do not.

We have learned that the best of us draw closer, pull each other up, stand as one. And we have learned that the worst of us use our 9/11s to divide us, to make us fear and loathe, to peddle some sinister Other because doing so is their path to power.

And so I begin, this morning of mornings, with two names.

One is Zohran Mamdani.

The other is Mohammed Shajahan.

One is the mayor of New York, and a Muslim.

The other, also a Muslim, died when the towers went down 25 years ago today -- which is why you'll find his name etched in the smooth metal that surrounds the reflecting pools where the towers once stood, and which now memorialize the almost 3,000 dead hatred and fanaticism killed that day.

Some people think Zohran Mamdani, though he is the city's mayor and a New Yorker who lost a piece of his soul on 9/11 as surely as any New Yorker, should stay away from today's remembrance in the city. They think showing up would be a slap in the face to the families of the murdered, because to some people being Muslim means you might as well have murdered them yourself.

To them, I offer the name Mohammed Shajahan. And I offer something I wrote after visiting the 9/11 memorial a decade ago -- something about Shajahan's name and all the other names, and the message they should send to every one of us.

Ten years along, I hardly needed to change a word:

We went to where it happened on a clear morning in August, the kind that brings up an ache even years after that murderous September day. It is a lush, contemplative place now, with shade trees and benches and the two reflecting pools, water spilling down the sides like silver murmuring embroidery.

Two pools; two peaceful footprints where the towers stood that day. And around them the names etched in smooth slanting steel, all those names, all those lost and blameless souls.

Pretty soon, the names are all you see.

Pretty soon, the lovely twin footprints fade. So does the triumphant rise of One World Trade Center, glittering in the sun just north of the north pool. The world narrows. You look down. And you find yourself reading off the names as you walk slowly around the pools, wondering who they were, what their lives were like, how it can be that you keep walking and walking and walking and the names never seem to end.

The names are Diaz and Bachman and Vicario; White and Miller and Lee. There are Morrises and Singhs and Benvenios; Doanys and Bonnetts and Roaches. And, yes, names like this, too: Mohammed Shajahan.

Which is to say, hate is ecumenical.

Hate killed Christians and Jews and, yes, Muslims, that day. It killed whites and blacks and Asians and Hispanics. It is a lesson we need to remember this day, a home truth to which we need to hold fast especially in this ugly, riven time, when unprincipled American outliers use fear and loathing and blatant falsehoods to con the easily conned.

One of the most stubborn of those falsehoods: That we can make ourselves safe from all future 9/11s by re-making America in the image of a particularly noxious brand of Christian faith,  instead of acknowledging the harder truth that those who killed so many on 9/11 were not adherents of any faith. They were simply barbarians whose only God was death.

And so making Muslims an Other because the barbarians claimed it as their faith, as the more reprehensible among us tend to do, is a fool's enterprise that only demeans America and what it stands for, making it safer only in the sense that it makes us less American. America is an idea to the barbarians, and there is only one way to kill an idea. That's by making its defenders diminish it themselves.

But 9/11 should have taught us the folly of that. It should have taught us that our enemies are enemies of all of us, not just Judeo-Christians. If that were not so, our enemies would not have killed so indiscriminately that day, would not even now be persecuting and killing Muslims as prolifically as they do anyone else.

The names, all those names upon names, are our witnesses to that.

American revival

Far be it from the Blob to say American men's tennis is back just because half the U.S. Open semifinal is 'Merican, but ... baby, American men's tennis is back.

This after the fist-pumping, screaming-to-the-heavens Ben Shelton knocked out defending champion (and best player in the world not named Jakob Sinner) Carlos Alcaraz in five epic sets the other night/early morning, finishing up at the zero-dark-thirty hour of 3:30 a.m. And this after the fist-pumping, screaming-to-the-heavens Frances Tiafoe rallied from a two-sets-to-zip hole to knock fellow American Alex Michelsen in five more epic sets.

Now they face one another in the finals, and if it won't exactly be Connors vs. McEnroe, it might stir a few echoes of same. Neither Shelton nor Tiafoe are as abrasive and obnoxious as Jimmy or Mac, but at least they play like they have a pulse. Energy and exuberance rolls off both of them like static electricity.

And if you're wondering what they've produced head-to-head ...

Well. They've faced one another four times, and Shelton's won three of them. Their last match happened in the Washington Citi Open last year, where Shelton won 7-6, 6-4.

I suppose that makes Shelton the favorite tomorrow.

I also suppose it won't be a straight-setter.

Here's hoping for another five-set thriller. American tennis deserves it.

Bread and circus

 Our national game kicks off tonight out in Seattle, and, no, I don't know why. It's Wednesday, traditionally a day unsoiled by Roger Goodell's mighty colossus. Perhaps the Geico camel was down on his luck and needed the work.*

(*Reference to the promo making the rounds, in which Geico camel makes his triumphant return, harassing Mike Tirico with his trademark "Mike-Mike-Mike-Mike-Mike! What day is it? Hump DAAAAY!" schtick.)

Anyway, it's the New England Patriots against the Seattle Seahawks in a Super Bowl rematch, and boy, that will be some fun. The last time they met, the Seahawks won the Lombardi Trophy by 16 points, 29-13. It will probably be closer this time. Or not.

Anyway-anyway, it all gets started tonight and tomorrow night, when the 49ers and Rams open their season on the cricket grounds in Melbourne, Australia. No, I don't know why they're doing that, either. Maybe so they can tell a great Roger Goodell joke.

Q: What do Aussies call NFL commissioner Roger Goodell, who tips the tape measure at just 5-11?

A: Shrimp on the barbie!

"Yeah, saw that comin'," you're saying now.

Maybe. But I bet you didn't see this: If you click on the NFL schedule, and look under the heading "Tickets", know what it says about New England-Seattle tonight?

Tickets as low as $280.

As LOW as $280? Really? And for that you get what, Drake Maye being eaten alive this time by the ravenous Seahawk pass rush?

"As low as $280." Yeesh.

And, yes, before you start, I'm sure you can get tickets for a much more reasonable price on one of the many online Tickets-R-Us sites. But the point pertains: Goodell's oligarch's playground more and more is becoming accessible only to other oligarchs.

For instance, let's check out some other Week 1 games.

For New Orleans at Detroit, you can get Tickets As Low As $191. 

For Green Bay at Minnesota, $197.

For Bears at Carolina -- Carolina, for pity's sake, the number is $160. For Washington at Philadelphia, $211 (fan brawl not included). Denver at Kansas City on Monday night?

Tickets As Low As $202 to watch Patrick Mahomes hopefully not get hurt again.

"What about our Indianapolis Colts?" Blue Crew fan is asking.

Well, you're in luck, For Baltimore at Indy, you can get tickets for as low as $78. For that, plus parking and concessions, you can take the whole family and get out for under four bills! Sweet.

"Are there any games where a workaday Joe could rub elbows with all the hedge-fund asshats and tech-bro pirates?" you're asking now.

Well, as a matter of fact ...

Just checked the "Tickets" heading next to the New York Jets at Tennessee, and guess what?

You can a ticket for as low as $20 for that one.

Twenty bucks! Of course, you have to sit through the Jets and Titans.

Otherwise ...

Welcome to Roger Goodell's bread-and-circus. Bring lots of the former.

States rights

 (And here we go with another Escape From Sportsball World. Hall passes for all who qualify.)

Lots of dopey senators, representatives and other politicos responded seriously to President Donald John "Look! A Squirrel!" Trump's latest dopey post the other day, which only went to show that A) the whole country is dopey now; and B) if you let a 3-year-old loose with a marker, stuff is gonna happen.

The post in question, see, featured Donald John showing a graphic of New Mexico in which the word "Mexico" is markered out and replaced with "America." As always it's anyone's guess what prompted this, although there are a couple of possibilities.

One is that Fearless Leader thought actual Americans were suggesting this, when it in fact was a piece of internet satire. The other is it was F.L. trolling everyone again, and the aforementioned dopey politicians falling for it by getting all outraged. 

In which case the politicians' proper responses should have been this:

1. Laugh and say, "I see someone left the President unsupervised again."

2. Laugh and say, "'New America.' Awww, that's so cute."

The Blob being the Blob, of course, I have questions. If New Mexico is New America, does this mean all the other states are Old America? And how do they feel about that? Does Nevada or Arizona or Utah rise up and say "Hey! We're New, too! We got indoor plumbin' and ever'thing!"?

Also, what could we rename other states, following Fearless Leader's lead?

A few suggestions:

* Nebraska becomes "West Iowa."

* Iowa becomes "East Nebraska."

* Wyoming and Colorado merge to become "The Republic of Square States."

* North and South Dakota swap names to see if anyone notices.

* Ditto Oregon and Washington.

* Indiana becomes "North Mississippi."

* Mississippi becomes "South Indiana."

* Illinois becomes "West Hammond."

And last but not least ...

* Texas becomes "New Mexico."

Or, you know, "Old Mexico." 

Hat tricks

 Doug Eddings -- aka "Cranky Old Man Shouting At Clouds" -- shoulda known better. You indeed start shouting at clouds, the clouds aren't gonna shout back. 

They're just gonna laugh at you.

And so journey back to Friday night, when Eddings, a major-league umpire, let his inner coot out to play awhile. When St. Louis rookie Hansel Rincon came the mound for his first appearance in the bigs, Eddings looked at the slightly crooked way Rincon was wearing his cap, and ordered him to straighten it.

No, really. I'm serious.

That brought St. Louis manager Oliver Marmol out of the dugout, asking Eddings why he was picking on the kid, and what the hell, besides. Eddings responded that Rincon wasn't going to wear his cap like that on HIS field, which might have prompted Marmol to ask when exactly Eddings bought a stake in Busch Stadium, but probably didn't.

What he did say, however, prompted Eddings to throw him out of the game. For which Marmol should have gotten an extra cookie from Cardinals' management for standing up to a bully who was picking on the smallest kid on the block, a least metaphorically.

Anyway, long story short, the very next night, with Eddings on the call again ... well, a blind man could have seen what was coming. And Eddings should have seen it coming.

Every player in the Cardinals dugout was wearing his cap crooked. 

Left yourself wide open for that one, Dougie.