Blue's clues, after one week

 The numbers don't look bad, except for the only one that matters. Let's start with that this morning.

Let's start with Jacksonville 31, Indianapolis 21 and move on quickly on from there, because Jacksonville 31, Indianapolis 21 was about what the more rational among us expected. Ditto the fourth quarter, in which Jacksonville outscored the home team 14-0 and won the game with two touchdowns in the last five minutes.

Travis Etienne got the clincher with 4:08 to play on a 26-yard run garnished with several missed tackles by the Colts. Again, about what the more rational expected.

Anthony Richardson?

The kid did all right, but Colts head coach Shane Steichen wisely didn't ask a lot of him. The game plan for Richardson was very restrained; a few designed runs and a quick-hit passing game that didn't require AR to stretch the field or make a lot of extended reads. 

He finished 24-of-37 for 223 yards and a touchdown to Michael Pittman Jr., who caught eight of Richardson's throws for 97 yards. That worked out to 12.1 yards per catch; all told, Richardson went to nine different receivers for 9.3 yards per reception. Not exactly Air Steichen.

Oh, yeah: Richardson also ran 10 times for 40 yards and another score. And came up limping after his longest run of the day, a 12-yarder.

Turns out it was just a small bruise on his knee, but it was like a small cloud passing over the sun. The more Richardson runs, it seemed to tell us, the more he's likely to get banged up. Especially behind an offensive line that still remains devoid of its mojo, allowing four sacks and coming up empty on that crucial fourth down in the final minute.

The Colts were down 10 at the time, which means Steichen should have taken the field goal and then onside-kicked it. Strategy 101. But an O-line that's being paid what this one can't get less than a yard when it matters?

Revealing stat of the day: The Colts running game averaged 2.5 yards per tote. Their best available option at running back, Deon Jackson, ran 13 times for 14 yards and lost two fumbles. And his backup, rookie Evan Hull, got dinged up.

Conclusion: Jonathan Taylor's bargaining position just got waaay better.

And the Blob's further conclusion?

The Colts are a work in progress. Or just a work.

The progress part remains to be seen.

Stuff they say in East Lansing

 I don't know what they teach up there at Michigan State University, but apparently it isn't learning from one's mistakes. Because they keep finding ways to make the same ones over and over again.

First, they employed a so-called doctor for 20 years who enjoyed sexually molesting some of America's finest women gymnasts.

Now, they've given the football program over to a guy who's being credibly accused of sexual harassment by -- irony of ironies --a woman  who owns a company that tries to raise awareness about sexual misconduct, particularly college athletics.

Her name is Brenda Tracy, and Michigan State head coach Mel Tucker invited to campus to talk to his football players. Then, Tucker alleges, he started hitting on her, sending her gifts, asking if she'd date him, and at one point masturbating during a phone call with her.

Tucker claims the latter was consensual phone sex, which, OK, is still pretty disgusting even if true. In any case, the university suspended him yesterday pending a full hearing.

Here's the kicker: After the 2021 seaso, MSU handed him a gargantuan 10-year extension worth $95 million. Michigan State promptly went 5-7 last year, and the school is still on the hook for $77 million of Tucker's deal.

This is some next-level administrative bungling, and stirs the Blob's notoriously bent powers of imagination to wonder what MSU officials might have said as they stumbled from one dumpster fire to another ...

(Upon hiring Dr. Larry Nassar): "Hey, let's hire Larry Nassar to work with our gymnasts! He's got a sterling reputation!"

(After the first gymnasts accused Nassar of some funky "examinations"): "Oh, my dear, that can't possibly be true! Dr. Nassar has a sterling reputation!"

(After more and more gymnasts started to come forward): "That's nice dear, but, remember, he's got a sterling reputation and you're just a bunch of cutie-pie pixies who are good at tumbling and dismounts and such. So go back to tumbling and dismounts and such and let the grownups worry about Dr. Nassar."

(After the pixies revolted and kept hollering that Nassar was a sicko, and finally he was found guilty of molesting dozens of gymnasts and went to prison): "But he had a sterling reputation!"

(After hiring Mel Tucker as football coach and he went 11-2 and won the Peach Bowl in 2021): "Lookit this guy! I mean, it's only one year, but we should lock him up for the next decade 'cause obviously the Spartans are gonna do this EVERY YEAR!"

(After the Spartans went 5-7 in 2022): "Uhhhh ..."

(After Tracy filed her complaint against him and the university investigated, suspended Tucker and now is faced with possibly eating that huge contract): "Uhhhh ..."

Yeesh. They might grow a lot of stuff up there in East Lansing, for all I know. But they sure can't grow a clue.

Home openers

The Indianapolis Colts kick off their 40th season today with their 40th home opener, and there will be tailgating and lots of No. 15 jerseys (for Anthony Richardson) and No. 28 jerseys (for the absent Jonathan Taylor), and probably a fair number of No. 18s (Peyton) and No. 12s (Andrew), too. Heck, there might even be some random 63s (Jeff Saturday) and 21s (Bob Sanders).

And, of course, there also will be the unreasonable expectations that are the province of all home openers everywhere, from Indianapolis to the Meadowlands to Miami.

What that means are a lot of the jersey-wearers are going to be yea shocked if the Colts don't light up the Jaguars today. Which they probably won't.

What it also means, because 40 is one of those round numbers that tug at the memory, that I'm remembering the first home opener in 1984, and how unreasonable expectation is as long-standing an NFL staple as brats, dogs and the $12 beer.

Lucas Oil Stadium wasn't even a glimmer that day; the Colts' home office was the Hoosier Dome just to the north, now a long-gone ghost. I was there as a credentialed media gnome, along with what seemed like half of Indiana. And what I recall most vividly (speaking of unreasonable expectation) is how clueless we all were.

The fans shook down the thunder from the Hoo-Do's plastic sky at all the wrong times; they hadn't yet learned that you're supposed to make noise when the other team has the ball, not when your team does. There was lots of other naivete aloft as well.

We actually thought Mike Pagel was John Unitas or Bert Jones, for one thing.

Also, Curtis Dickey and Randy McMillan were the best backfield duo since Kiick and Csonka.

Also, the Colts D was meaner than a junkyard dog because it featured a guy named Blaise (Winter) and a guy named Nesby (Glasgow), and how could they not have grown up all snarly because their parents named them Blaise and Nesby?

Plus, look at head coach Frank Kush down there, gnawing on a strand of barbed wire. Thinks he's gonna let 'em lose to the pale candy-assed New York Jets?

Well ...

Well, they did lose to the pale candy-assed New York Jets that day, 23-14. And it wasn't Joe Namath who beat 'em, but some guy named Pat Ryan. And the Colts would go on to lose a bunch more games -- 12 in all, out of 16 -- and Frank Kush would be fired before it was over, and it would be three more seasons before the Colts would see the high side of .500.

But you know what?

On that day, it didn't really matter. Because a real live NFL team was playing a home game in Indianapolis, and there was wonder enough in that.

Almost as much wonder as the way 40 years have flown by since.

Tide, rolled

 With just under four minutes left in Tuscaloosa, Ala., last night, Nick Saban's kingdom started to drain itself of red. The residents of Bryant-Denny Stadium -- resplendent in their Derrick Henry jerseys or Jalen Hurts jerseys or, I don't know, Richard Todd jerseys, maybe -- began to head for the exits, first in a trickle and then in a flood.

Roll, Tide, indeed.

And, OK, so that was mean. But out on the field, the Tide was Rollin', though not in the direction 'Bama Nation was accustomed to seeing. They were Rollin' downhill towards an L, with another of college football's corporate giants doing the pushing.

Final score in the mighty clash of titan and used-to-be titan: Texas 34, Alabama 24.

Score when the loyalists began surrendering the field: Also 34-24.

Plenty of time for the Tide to mount a comeback, as they'd already done once Saturday evening. Down 13-6 at the half, they'd rallied to take 16-13 lead at the end of three quarters.

But then Texas quarterback Quinn Ewers threw a touchdown pass to Adonai Mitchell 55 seconds into the fourth quarter, and Jonathon Brooks ran five yards for another score, and then Ewers threw another touchdown pass to Mitchell, his third of the night. And the 'Bama faithful, either quitters or astute readers of the prevailing momentum -- you choose -- had seen enough.

And what did it all mean?

Hard tellin'.

You could say it means Saban's grip on the top rung of college football has finally loosened, but some folks said that the year Johnny Manziel shocked him in Tuscaloosa and 'Bama went on to win the national title anyway. So ... maybe not.

And Texas?

Last night was the biggest road win for the used-to-be titans in close to 15 years, which might or might not mean the Longhorns are back to being their old high-falutin' selves. But we've heard this refrain coming out of Austin before, only to see the Longhorns lose to, I don't know, Baylor or someone. So ... again, maybe not.

All I know is how the Roll Tide delegation voted last night.

With its feet.

Purdue 1, Hardest Part 0

 A funny thing happened to Ryan Walters and the Purdue Boilermakers yesterday. They went to a football game and a NASCAR race broke out.

I say this because the Boilers and Virginia Tech got chased off the field by lightning down in Blacksburg, Va., and they didn't come back for five-and-a-half hours. This was reminiscent of some of NASCAR's epic weather delays, which have sometimes stretched the Daytona 500 (and, once, the Brickyard 400) into day-long sit-arounds that began in early afternoon and didn't end until far into the night.

Get it in it takes all night: You want a mantra for the American stock-car boys, that's traditionally been it. (Unless it was "Surely we can squeeze another corporate sponsor into this deal. Here, Chase Elliott, let us slap this Goody's Headache Powders sticker on your helmet visor. It's small, you can see around it.")

Anyway, "Get it in if it takes all night" was what happened in Blacksburg. A noon start turned into an 8 p.m. or so finish after lightning and four inches of rain -- yes, you read that right -- turned Tech's football stadium into an Olympic swimming venue.  

The good news for Purdue was good things came to those who waited. Much, much later, Hudson Card threw for 248, ran for a score and set a record in the individual medley (OK, so not really), and the Boilers outlasted Tech 24-17 to give Walters his first W as a head coach.

Then, in the postgame, Walters resisted the obvious by not quoting Tom Petty.

The waaaaiiiting is the hardest part ...

Strange night in the Apple

 Last night in New York, 19-year-old Coco Gauff became the first American teenager to reach the U.S. Open finals since Serena Williams more than two decades ago, beating Karolina Muchova 6-4, 7-5 in the semis to earn a spot against Aryna Sabalenka, 2023's Australian Open champ.

That was the normal part of the evening's festivities. 

This being the Big Apple, there was also a weird part, to paraphrase Mac Davis in "North Dallas Forty."

Start with an environmental protest that halted the Gauff-Muchova match for almost an hour. Then there was the match itself, which featured an astounding 40-shot rally that Gauff won to force an equally astounding sixth match point. 

Six turned out to be the charm, as Gauff finished off Muchova in a match she likely thought was never going to end. And not just because of the six match points.

There was also the 50 minutes it took officials to remove a protester from the stands.

It took them 50 minutes because (and I am not making this up) he'd glued his bare feet to the concrete floor. I don't know how they got him free, but I'm told it did NOT involve taking a chainsaw to his ankles.

"Foot fault!" a security guard sang out as he fired up the old McCullough, provoking loud guffawing from the crowd ...

OK. So, no.

Wouldn't have been proper tennis etiquette, for one thing. Also, tennis crowds do not guffaw, even in New York.

In any event, play resumed, Gauff survived, and now her 19-year-old self is in the finals. And if you combine that with the fact Sabalenka needed three sets to subdue another American, Madison Keys, in the other semifinal ... and yet another American, Ben Shelton, plays in the men's semis today after beating yet ANOTHER American, Frances Tiafoe, in the quarters ... 

Well. All that talk we've been hearing about an American resurgence in tennis seems not to be just talk. And that's a good thing for both 'Murica and tennis.

Strange nights in the Apple notwithstanding.

Roarin'

 Got a friend from Detroit who posts one of two images on his social media in the fall, depending on what his chronically doomstruck Detroit Lions do on any given Sunday.

If they lose, which has been often, he posts a photo of Bobby Layne, the last quarterback to win an NFL title for the Lions and the namesake of the fabled (at least in Detroit) Curse of Bobby Layne.

If they win, which has been not nearly so often, he posts a photo of cornbread with the caption "Cornbread for everyone!" or something similar.

In my mind's eye this morning, I see pans and pans of cornbread on my friend's social, mountains of cornbread, steaming hot and melt-y with butter.

I say this because his Lions marched into Kansas City last night and -- on national TV in the kickoff game to the NFL season -- did not Lions it up. The Blob was fearful that was going to happen, because the Lions are the Lions and everyone was pumping them full of unaccustomed air, and it would been customarily Lions-ish for deflate all that by going into Arrowhead and falling flat on their faces against Patrick Mahomes and the defending Super Bowl champion Chiefs.

But they didn't!

In fact, they beat Mahomes and the Chiefs, 21-20!

("Why are you using exclamation points?" you're asking now)

I don't know. Just seemed appropriate, given everything.

Anyway, the Lions won, and head coach Dan Campbell showed off his big brass grapes by running a fake punt on his own 17-yard line early on. It was a dumb thing to do, but he got away with it, and it set a tone.

The rest was Jared Goff passing passably enough and Bears refugee David Montgomery running passably enough, and a rookie DB named Brian Branch taking an interception 50 yards to the house. The last time a Lions rook did something that noteworthy, his name was Lem Barney, and it was Green Bay legend Bart Starr he was pick-sixing -- 56 years ago.

The Lions also beat the defending Super Bowl champs that day, by the way. Harmonic convergence.

Anyway, what was revealed is that the Lions might actually not be the Lions this year, if you know what I mean. Also, Mahomes is not Mahomes without his trusty sidekick Travis Kelce, who sat this one out with an iffy knee. 

Besides the pick six, his wideouts dropped passes like they thought they were Indianapolis Colts.  When a Lions fourth-down pass failed at midfield and Mahomes got the ball back with 2:30 to play, it was his receivers who betrayed him: Kadarius Toney dropped a potential 20-yard gain, Skyy dropped another ball, and the O-line got called for holding, erasing a deep ball that actually was caught.

Meanwhile, Goff was an efficient 22-of-35 for 253 yards and a score. He was sacked only once.

And the Lions won!

Sorry, Those exclamation points, they creep up on ya.