History 1, Tom Allen 0

 And now, as night follows day, Tom Allen is out at Indiana. He was going to be out anyway no matter what happened in West Lafayette yesterday, but blowing a 10-point lead in the fourth quarter and surrendering the Old Oaken Bucket to Purdue again confirmed the regime change was coming.

For that, you can only feel a sense of deja vu, and also a tinge of sadness. Because while Tom Allen turned out not to be a good head football coach, he remains a profoundly decent and classy human being.

He had his moment of glory from 2018 to 2020, when he built an Indiana program that went 19-14, beat Penn State and Wisconsin and went to two January bowl games, the Outback and the Gator. But as has been the case in Bloomington since time immemorial, he was unable to sustain that level of competence.

The 6-1 record in 2020 was followed by a 9-27 run over the next three seasons, including 3-23 in the Big Ten. And with USC, UCLA, Oregon and Washington coming aboard next year, things were only going to get worse unless Indiana did something desperate.

Like, you know, swallow the $20 million buyout in Allen's deal.

(Although they settled on $15.5 mill, with donors coughing up the dough)

That AD Scott Dolson and the Indiana administration were willing to do that at least signals football might be important to them after all, though the enormous weight of IU's mediocre gridiron history remains a so-far insurmountable obstacle. I am 68 years old, and in my lifetime the only sustained period of success happened under Bill Mallory.

Since then, Cam Cameron, Gerry DiNardo, Bill Lynch, the late Terry Hoeppner, Kevin Wilson and Allen failed to more than temporarily shed IU's implacable beige-ness. And for all Allen's failings as a head coach, none of his five predecessors approached his .402 winning percentage, nor won more than 19 games in their tenures. Allen won 33.

But what he had done lately carried far more heft. Because there is no more what-have-you-done-lately enterprise than D-I college football, enormous cash cow that it is.

So will the next guy, whoever he is, lift Indiana to at least the level of OK-ness Mallory brought to Bloomington 35 or more years ago?

I wish I could say yes.

Best I can do is "We shall see."

Game misconduct

Sometimes it's like watching a car crash in slow motion, this National Hockey League. You know Gary Bettman 'n' them are gonna drive into that tree, but it's too late to shout "Hey, dummy, don't drive into that tree!"

Case in point: The other night in Minnesota.

Where, on Native American Heritage Night -- Native American Heritage Night -- Minnesota Wild goalie Marc-Andre Fleury had a custom mask all set to go to honor his wife, who is Native American. The mask was created by Cole Redhorse Taylor, a Minnesota native and Mdewakanton Dakota, and included the names of Fleury's children and a quote from his father.

The NHL said nyet.

In fact, the NHL said he couldn't even wear it in warmups without incurring a fine. On (and we can't say this too many times) Native American Heritage Night.

You there, in the back.

"Question, Mr. Blob. Is the NHL just stupid or what?" 

Well, I think we can eliminate the "or what."

I mean, seriously, we're talking about a league with the Chicago Blackhawks, whose unis are adorned with the head of a Native American. And the NHL lets them wear those unis every night. 

But Fleury can't wear a mask (even in warmups!) honoring Native American heritage on the night specifically designed for that purpose?

Stupid may not be a strong enough word.

Now, I have no idea what the league's rationale for this was, and I really don't care. Any explanation it has would be, well, stupid. And I speak from experience here.

See, I'm old enough to remember when Johnny Unitas died, and his lineal descendant, Peyton Manning, wanted to honor his memory by wearing the black high-top cleats Unitas made famous. Nice gesture, right?

Nah. The geniuses of what was then Paul Tagliabue's NFL said nyet. 

They even threatened Manning with a choke-a-horse fine, just as the NHL threatened Fleury. Part of this is because the NFL is the most stick-up-its-ass organization in professional sports, with its Fashion Nazis forever on high alert for an untucked jersey or a non-compliant sock. But you're gonna love the rest of the league's reasoning.

It's because the League had decreed only the Baltimore Ravens could wear a commemorative Unitas patch that Sunday.

The Ravens, who used to be the Cleveland Browns. The Ravens, whose record book is devoid of the name John Unitas, for the excellent reason that John Unitas never played a down for the Ravens -- or for the Cleveland Browns. for that matter.

He played for the Baltimore Colts.

Who did not stop being the Colts when they moved to Indianapolis.

And whose record book, therefore, has John Unitas' name written all over it.

Made you just want to grab your head and scream. It really did.

All these years later, you want to do it again, on behalf of Marc-Andre Fleury. Like Peyton Manning, he thought about wearing the mask anyway. But he was told he couldn't by the Wild, because the Wild had itself been threatened twice with its own fine if Fleury wore the mask.

I don't know about you. But how awesome would it have been had the Wild told the league, "Go ahead, fine us, then", and directed Fleury to wear the mask anyway?

Or at least had the evening's referee slap the NHL with a game misconduct?

Mission creep

 Today is Black Friday, and you know what that means, Blobophiles. 

"Fistfights over 80-inch TVs at Walmart?" you're saying.

Uhhh ... no.

"Road rage in the parking lot at the mall?" 

Nope.

"Turkey sandwiches in front of the tube while watching the En Eff Ell?" 

Well ... regrettably, yes.

I say "regrettably" because the NFL has decided three games on Thanksgiving Day and then a full Sunday slate of games isn't enough. Aw, HELL, no. Today, for the first time, we'll get a Black Friday game. 

Dolphins vs. Jets. 3 p.m. Grab another sammich and settle in, America!

Or, not.

Consider me a not.

I'll be a "not" because I'm that cranky old guy you've heard about, the one who doesn't like kids on his lawn or the NFL's insidious, endless mission creep. In the cranky old guy's universe, the day after Thanksgiving should be reserved for college football. The NFL should keep its greedy, Bet MGM mitts off it. Is nothing sacred in Roger Goodell's empire?

"Is that a serious question?" you're asking now.

No, I suppose not. The NFL proved that 60 years ago, when Pete Rozelle wouldn't even let the league take a Sunday off two days after a U.S. president was assassinated. After that came Monday nights and Sunday nights and Thursday nights and Saturdays in December, and that epic playoff game on Christmas Day in 1971, when the Dolphins beat the Chiefs 27-24 in two overtimes in the longest game in NFL history.

Did I watch it? You're damn right I watched it.

But I won't watch Dolphins-Jets today. Consider it a symbolic if pathetic blow for propriety.

Instead, I'll be watching the Oregon-Oregon State rivalry game, and maybe one of the other 12 college football games on the slate today. Every God-fearing true American should follow my lead. 

But of course you won't.

Of course, at 3 p.m., with a turkey sandwich in your hand, you'll be watching Tua vs. Richard Todd or Ken O'Brien or whoever the Jets throw out there at quarterback. 

Heathen, I say. Heathen, the lot of you.

Thanks, and stuff(ing)

 Happy Turkeycide Day to all who observe out there, and, please, don't get in fights at the dinner table with your butthead uncle who thinks Joe Biden directed the FBI to shoot Abraham Lincoln because he was a Republican.  Someone might spill the gravy, and then where would we be?

 No, this being the designated day in America to give thanks, it's time to be thankful. And the Blob is, for a bunch of stuff. Stuffing of course included.

What am I thankful for here on Thanksgiving?

I'm thankful for Patrick Mahomes, Jalen Hurts, Dak Prescott, Lamar Jackson and every other quarterback in the NFL who hasn't been hurt yet. Although there's still time.

I'm thankful for high school football, which wraps up in Lucas Oil Stadium this weekend with the state championships. Go Snider, Bishop Luers and Adams Central, the area entrants. As Shooter said in "Hoosiers," kick their butts.

I'm thankful for San Antonio Spurs coach Gregg Popovich, who got on the P.A. the other night and told the home fans to knock off booing Kawhi Leonard, on account of Kawhi was once a Spur and deserved their respect. Yeah, I know, the fans pay a king's ransom to get into NBA games and therefore have every right to boo when they want, and they don't need Pops lecturing them about it. But it was still kinda cool.

I'm thankful that deal at the Canadian border yesterday was just a gruesome car crash, not a terrorist attack. I realize this came as a great disappointment to the MAGAs and their fellow travelers, who apparently are so eager to see another terrorist attack on American soil they were loudly declaring it one before the flames had died down. But disappointment is part of life, boys and girls.

I'm thankful for college football rivalry games, even the cruddy ones like the Old Oaken Bucket game. Rivalry games are what separate college football from the NFL, even if hardly anything else does these days.

(Oh, the NFL likes to pretend it has rivalry games, but it doesn't really. Army-Navy, Yale-Harvard, Michigan-Ohio State, Auburn-Alabama et al just laugh and point and call them  posers when the NFL does that)

I'm thankful, finally, for the little things: The way the trees blaze orange and red this time of year, and the way the house smells when a pecan pie comes out of the oven, and the way our crazy dog makes me laugh sometimes, and turns me into a soft-hearted sap the rest of the time.

I'm also thankful for seeing another year on the right side of the dirt. It's never a given, ya know, so you gotta cherish it.

"Wow," you're saying now. "You really are a soft-hearted sap."

Ah, dummy up. And pass the gravy.

Reward and risk

 The Indianapolis Colts waived former All-Pro linebacker Shaq Leonard yesterday, and there is your lesson for today in professional football player economics. 

Which is, ol' Jerry Glanville was right. "NFL" really does mean "Not For Long."

And so you'd best get your money while you can.

Leonard, for instance, signed a five-year, $99 million deal in 2021, right after being named All-Pro for the third time. At 26, he was well worth it. Two years later, at 28 and after two back surgeries in 2022, the Colts were willing to pay $6 million in guaranteed money to get rid of him.

Part of this is because Leonard is no longer the player he was, and had in fact just been benched. And part of it is because he was having a hard time accepting that, having publicly (if respectfully) griped about his increasingly limited role in the Colts defensive scheme.

Likely that had something to do with the Colts unceremoniously dumping a guy who, just two years ago, was the keystone in that defensive scheme. Likely, also, the emergence of Zaire Franklin as the Colts' new Shaq Leonard had something to do with it.

Right now, Franklin, at 27, is working on a three-year, $10 million contract extension he signed last year. After this season, when he's emerged as the NFL's leading tackler, that's likely to go up considerably. It's the reward part of the NFL equation.

And the risk part?

Just don't get hurt, Zaire. Just don't get hurt.

A few brief thoughts on NFL Week 10

 And now this week's edition of The NFL In So Many Words, the trap-gamin' Blob feature which cruelly raises hopes only to dash them, and of which critics have said "I hope this Blob feature disappears through a tear in the space-continuum, and also "Dammit! It didn't!":

1. "Omigod! We're gonna beat the Lions! Maybe Matt Eberflus isn't such a terrible coach after all!" (Bears fans)

2/ "Dammit!" (Also Bears fans, after Bears blow a 12-point lead with four minutes to play and lose 31-26 because Eberflus went into cringe mode and started kicking field goals instead of  burying the Lions when his team had the chance)

3. "Omigod! We're  gonna beat the Eagles AGAIN!" (Chiefs fans)

4. "Dammir!" (Also Chiefs fans after Patrick Mahomes and Co. fart around and blow a 17-7 halftime lead by going scoreless in the second half, losing to Jalen Hurts and the Eagles 21-17)

5. "Ha! We got this! The Broncos suck!" (Vikings fans, after Josh Dobbs and the Vikes take a 20-9 lead into fourth quarter)

6. "I mean, we suck!" (Also Vikings fans, after the Broncos outscore the Vikings 12-3 in the fourth quarter, led by Russell Wilson, who throws the go-ahead touchdown pass to Courtland Sutton with 1:03 to play in the Broncos' 21-20 win)

7. "The Rams? The Rams? The Rams are chumps!" (Seahawks fans, after Seattle takes a 16-7 lead midway through the third quarter)

8. "I mean, we're chumps!" (Also Seahawks fans, after the Rams score the last 10 points of the game and win 17-16 when Seattle's Jason Myers misses a 55-yard field goal attempt with three seconds to play)

9. "Omigod! We scored!" (Jets fans, after their sadsack football team scores a touchdown late in the first half of a 32-6 loss to the Bills)

10. "Omigod! We won!" (Giants fans, after their even sadder sack football team beats the Commanders 31-19)

The right stuff

Young adults frequently do dumb stuff. They're young, after all. 

But they also more than occasionally redeem the dumber stuff fully-grown adults do.

For today's case in point we go to Ann Arbor, Mich., where the University of Michigan football program is in a heap o' trouble because of the dumb stuff its alleged leadership is being investigated for doing. Under head coach Jim Harbaugh, they've won a lot of games lately. But they've also become an outlaw program that's apparently overly fond of shenanigans.

A staffer investigated by the FBI for computer fraud. Another staffer carrying out a spying operation apparently bankrolled by a wealthy FOP (Friend of the Program). Yet another staffer fired for telling players to lie to investigators, and for trying to destroy evidence of said spying operation.

A head coach suspended by the school at the front of this season for lying to investigators himself, and suspended at the back of the season by the Big Ten for said spying operation, about which he's denied all knowledge and has been backed by the university and a lot of irrational Michigan diehards.

It's a hell of a mess, and it's going to get messier when the NCAA eventually rules on all this. But you know something?

Once again it's the young adults who do the right thing when the fully-grown adults don't.

The young adult in this case is Michigan running back Blake Corum, whose name you may have heard because he's one of the best in the land at what he does. The other day, in the midst of all the turmoil in the Big House, Corum did something of which his university should make a much bigger deal than how many games Jim Harbaugh wins.

He used his Name, Likeness and Image money to buy 600 turkeys for Thanksgiving.

Then he delivered them personally to people in Ypsilanti who might not have had a Thanksgiving turkey otherwise.

It's the third straight year Corum has done this. No one asked him to do it; his university, certainly, was too busy propping up a corrupt football coach to do so. 

What you call that, boys and girls, is character. It's the right stuff, as they say. And it's yet another demonstration that sometimes the young see far more clearly than their elders.

Good on ya, Blake Corum. And Michigan, take some damn notes.