I was eight years old the last time this happened. It was January 26, 1986 and my grandparents had the entire family over for the game. We sat in their living room, a bunch of us crowding the couch, a few on the edge of the end table, and the rest on the floor, munching away on cookies grandma had made in the shape of football players...blue and orange frosting only. We watched one of the greatest and most entertaining teams in the history of football dismantle an overmatched Patriots team clad in bright red. My grandfather sat in his crusty lazy boy, wash rags under his elbows in place of long forgotten arm rest covers, leading the cheers.
"Super Bowl, Super Bears," he roared in a voice much too deep for his squat, graying frame.
"Super Bowl, Super Bears." And we all cheered along.
The 46-10 drubbing of the Patriots in Super Bowl XX was the highlight of the decade for every Chicago sports fan. Subsequent Bears teams -with the same basic players and coaches - failed to live up to expectations and we stumbled into the 90s with a sour feeling in our collective gut. Even through six Bulls championships and a recent White Sox title, the city of Chicago still pined for the days of McMahon, Singletary, Payton, and, of course, the almighty Ditka. We leaned on the memory of that season like a crutch whenever the Bears teams of the '90s became too much to handle. And up until a few days ago, I honestly wondered if I would see the Bears in the Super Bowl before I turned 40 (I'm 29).
Then it happened.
On a snowy Sunday afternoon in Soldier Field, amidst periodic snowfall and stinging winds, the Chicago Bears defeated the New Orleans Saints 39-14 in the NFC Championship Game. I watched the game with my wife in my apartment on the north side of Chicago. I collapsed from exhaustion on my couch as the final whistle blew, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. The Bears had just advanced to the Super Bowl and I laid in wait for the moment when someone would wake me from my dream. But as the minutes ticked it became obvious that I really was awake and that in two weeks I would be watching the Bears, my favorite of favorite teams, play in the Super Bowl for only the second time in my life.
And so I chanted, "Super Bowl, Super Bears," over and over, "Super Bowl, Super Bears," my fists pumping alternately in front of me, "Super Bowl, Super Bears," and in a small town three hours outside of Chicago, I was sure grandpa was doing the same thing.
Lovie Smith showed up three years ago, usurping the failed regime of Dick Jauron. He stated his first goal was to beat the Packers and his second was to win a Super Bowl. He accomplished the former in his first year with a new look defense that shut down Brett Favre. The cover-2 D continued to dominate the following season, helping lead the team to their first playoff berth in four years. It was a home game against the Carolina Panthers and Steve Smith ripped through the vaunted defense en route to a 28-21 upset. A home loss to a wild card team: Lovie vowed it wouldn't happen again.
As the Bears prepared for their home playoff game this year against Seattle, I wallowed in nervousness at the thought of another one-and-done playoff run. And damn if it almost didn't happen that way. The Bears gave up a lead in the 4th quarter to the Seahawks and my heart sunk. But two Robbie Gould field goals later, one the game-winner in overtime, and my worries were put off for another week.
Then came the Saints.
"Who dat? Who dat? Who dat say they gonna beat them Saints?"
The Bears, that's who dat. Chicago came roaring out of the gates against New Orleans, piling up 16 straight points in the first half. Two fumbles by the Saints gave the Bears great field position throughout the first two quarters, and a stifling defense held the explosive Saints offense to only 7 points. The second half started out ugly, with Reggie Bush's catch-and-run TD the low point. But just before the rookie needlessly dove into the end zone he pointed mockingly at a trailing Brian Urlacher. Like waking a sleeping giant, Bush's finger point served as the howling alarm that woke up the Bears defense. The Saints never scored again.
Not that they didn't have their chances. After a three-and-out on the Bears' next offensive series, the New Orleans offense drove into Bears territory before being forced into a field goal attempt. The Saints brought out their long field goal kicker, Billy Cundiff, whose kick couldn't traverse the cold winds and fell a yard short of the goal post. That was the closest they would come to scoring for the rest of the game.
After an awful intentional grounding penalty on Saints quarterback Drew Brees - where New Orleans was charged with a safety, making the score 18-14 - the Chicago offense decided that enough was enough and Rex Grossman, who had played poorly up until that point, began moving the ball with ease. He completed three stright passes and the Bears were soon in Saints territory. Then, on 1st and 10 at the New Orleans 33-yard line, Rex showed the skills that have kept him his job all season. As Hollis Thomas came storming through the middle of the Bears' offensive line with his mind set on drilling Grossman into the turf, Rex let fly a pass he'd thrown hundreds of times during the season. It was a deep pass to his left that floated high in the air while Bernard Berrian and 11-year veteran Fred Thomas jockied for position 30 yards down the field. The tight spiral came down like a gift into the waiting hands of a falling Berrian. It was one of the greatest catches I have ever seen. Touchdown.
As he rolled into the endzone to put the game away, I thought of my grandparents and how happy they must've been to see the Bears in the Super Bowl again. I thought of all the Chicago fans who have waited over two decades for this moment and of all the fans who wallowed through the bad years hoping that one day they'd see their team reach the biggest stage in all of sports. I felt a joy unlike any I'd felt before and I reveled in the mini-shock of pleasure my body was going through.
For the rest of that day and the one following, I walked around in a haze of excitement and happiness. You just couldn't get the smile off my face. And then a more sinister thought crept through the cloud of emotion my head had been swimming in. I thought of all the doubters who said the Bears didn't have a chance; of all the pundits and supposed "fans" who barbecued Rex throughout the season; I thought of the eight ESPN football "experts" who picked the Bears to lose that game; and for a second I felt sick.
"What if they lose the Super Bowl?" I thought.
The idea hadn't even occured to me before then and I tremored slightly at the pictures it pressed in my brain: of a dejected Lovie Smith hugging the victorious Tony Dungy at midfield; of Peyton Manning holding up the Championship trophy; of Brian Urlacher leaving the field with his chin touching his chest. It made me scared, nervous, and angry. And I realized that our NFC Champions have only one choice: win the damn game!
I've waited 21 years for this Bears, it better be worth it.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Friday, January 19, 2007
Freshmen Stars Shine from Kansas to Carolina - But What Happens in March?
After his team squeaked out a home win against archrival Missouri on Monday night, Kansas coach Bill Self had some high praise for star freshman Sherron Collins.
“That’s the Sherron we recruited,” he said after the game. “(He) was the man tonight."
“That’s the Sherron we recruited,” he said after the game. “(He) was the man tonight."
Collins and fellow freshman Darrell Arthur combined for 17 of Kansas’ last 19 points, and helped the fifth-ranked Jayhawks hold off Missouri 80-77.
“I was a little surprised that we were both in there at the end,” Arthur said.
Arthur may have been surprised to find himself playing in the final minutes of a tough conference matchup—but it’s a situation that he and Kansas fans should get used to.
“I was a little surprised that we were both in there at the end,” Arthur said.
Arthur may have been surprised to find himself playing in the final minutes of a tough conference matchup—but it’s a situation that he and Kansas fans should get used to.
With new NBA rules forcing high school players to wait a year before entering the league, an influx of young talent has taken over the college game. Add in the fact that most of the top collegiate players bolt for the pros after their freshman or sophomore seasons, and you’re looking at a situation in which the fate of your favorite program will be riding on the shoulders of 18-year-olds for years to come.
Scary thought huh?
It seems like only yesterday that Carmelo Anthony led Syracuse to a national title in his freshman season. Anthony’s play in the 2003 NCAA Tournament showed coaches that raw ability can produce championships—and fat new contracts for the men who engineer them. Besides that, molding young athletes into savvy players isn’t really an option anymore, as most high school recruits won’t even look at a program unless they’re guaranteed playing time from day one.
So what else is a coach to do?
Consider this: Four of the top teams in the country—North Carolina, Kansas, Ohio State, and Texas—rely heavily on 18-year-old talent.
The Tar Heels have three freshman starters in forward Brandan Wright, guard Wayne Ellington, and guard Ty Lawson. Wright is averaging 15.6 points a game —14th best in the ACC—while Lawson is fifth in the conference with 5.2 assists per game.
Collins has been a major contributor for Kansas of late, but fellow freshman Arthur has also played a big part in the Jayhawks’ success, averaging 11.6 points and 4.9 rebounds per game.
The Longhorns have four freshmen in their starting lineup, with player-of-the-year candidate Kevin Durant (23.7 points, 11.0 rebounds) leading the way.
And then there’s Ohio State, where Thad Matta managed to put together one of the greatest recruiting classes in recent history. Seven-foot Greg Oden has been the crown jewel thus far, averaging 14.9 points and 9.8 rebounds per game. He’s as dominant a big man the game has seen since the days of Bill Walton and Lew Alcindor—and he’s been playing with a bum shooting hand. His freshman teammates—guard Mike Conley Jr., guard Daequan Cook, and forward David Lighty —have also made a splash in the Big 10, and the four youngsters are only getting better every time they step on the court.
On one level, the abundance of contributing freshmen in men’s Division I basketball is great for a sport that has long suffered from a diluted talent pool. The young stars have performed commendably in the college spotlight, navigating the bright lights and media scrutiny as they try to deliver championships to programs with long histories of winning.
But here’s a question:
What happens in March, when the pressure of one-and-done—to say nothing of the nation’s rapt attention—lands squarely on their shoulders?
As much fun as they are to watch, the freshmen in the class of 2006 are still just that: freshmen. They’re sloppy, undisciplined, liable at any moment to heave up a 23-footer with 25 seconds left on the shot clock.
Last week, Wisconsin was able to shut down Ohio State’s offense by forcing the ball into the hands of shooters with itchy trigger fingers. Time and time again, the Buckeyes settled for one pass and a three-pointer, leaving Oden underutilized in the paint.
The result?
Wisconsin 72, Ohio State 69.
The simple truth is that a methodical offensive scheme is often a poor fit for a kid just months removed from dominating overmatched competition at the high school level. More to the point, it takes time and practice to master the nuances of a system—to the extent that even a full season may not be enough to make new players feel entirely comfortable. So it was that Wisconsin, with their experienced squad of upperclassmen, was able to hold off a far superior Ohio State team.
By March, many of these “rookie” tendencies should be resolved, and you can expect young teams to have developed a new level of fluidity on the court in time for the postseason. But it’s funny how fluidity can fall apart when the term “Sweet 16” or “Final 4” is hung on an upcoming game. Without doubt, nerves will come into play—and it’s a safe bet that nerves will cost a few teams their tournament lives. A fan can only hope that it isn’t his 18-year-old stud who buckles under the Madness.
After solidifying his stellar freshman class, Texas coach Rick Barnes said, “This is one of the better situations in the country. I know this—there are a lot of guys who would like to be sitting in my chair.”
Scary thought huh?
It seems like only yesterday that Carmelo Anthony led Syracuse to a national title in his freshman season. Anthony’s play in the 2003 NCAA Tournament showed coaches that raw ability can produce championships—and fat new contracts for the men who engineer them. Besides that, molding young athletes into savvy players isn’t really an option anymore, as most high school recruits won’t even look at a program unless they’re guaranteed playing time from day one.
So what else is a coach to do?
Consider this: Four of the top teams in the country—North Carolina, Kansas, Ohio State, and Texas—rely heavily on 18-year-old talent.
The Tar Heels have three freshman starters in forward Brandan Wright, guard Wayne Ellington, and guard Ty Lawson. Wright is averaging 15.6 points a game —14th best in the ACC—while Lawson is fifth in the conference with 5.2 assists per game.
Collins has been a major contributor for Kansas of late, but fellow freshman Arthur has also played a big part in the Jayhawks’ success, averaging 11.6 points and 4.9 rebounds per game.
The Longhorns have four freshmen in their starting lineup, with player-of-the-year candidate Kevin Durant (23.7 points, 11.0 rebounds) leading the way.
And then there’s Ohio State, where Thad Matta managed to put together one of the greatest recruiting classes in recent history. Seven-foot Greg Oden has been the crown jewel thus far, averaging 14.9 points and 9.8 rebounds per game. He’s as dominant a big man the game has seen since the days of Bill Walton and Lew Alcindor—and he’s been playing with a bum shooting hand. His freshman teammates—guard Mike Conley Jr., guard Daequan Cook, and forward David Lighty —have also made a splash in the Big 10, and the four youngsters are only getting better every time they step on the court.
On one level, the abundance of contributing freshmen in men’s Division I basketball is great for a sport that has long suffered from a diluted talent pool. The young stars have performed commendably in the college spotlight, navigating the bright lights and media scrutiny as they try to deliver championships to programs with long histories of winning.
But here’s a question:
What happens in March, when the pressure of one-and-done—to say nothing of the nation’s rapt attention—lands squarely on their shoulders?
As much fun as they are to watch, the freshmen in the class of 2006 are still just that: freshmen. They’re sloppy, undisciplined, liable at any moment to heave up a 23-footer with 25 seconds left on the shot clock.
Last week, Wisconsin was able to shut down Ohio State’s offense by forcing the ball into the hands of shooters with itchy trigger fingers. Time and time again, the Buckeyes settled for one pass and a three-pointer, leaving Oden underutilized in the paint.
The result?
Wisconsin 72, Ohio State 69.
The simple truth is that a methodical offensive scheme is often a poor fit for a kid just months removed from dominating overmatched competition at the high school level. More to the point, it takes time and practice to master the nuances of a system—to the extent that even a full season may not be enough to make new players feel entirely comfortable. So it was that Wisconsin, with their experienced squad of upperclassmen, was able to hold off a far superior Ohio State team.
By March, many of these “rookie” tendencies should be resolved, and you can expect young teams to have developed a new level of fluidity on the court in time for the postseason. But it’s funny how fluidity can fall apart when the term “Sweet 16” or “Final 4” is hung on an upcoming game. Without doubt, nerves will come into play—and it’s a safe bet that nerves will cost a few teams their tournament lives. A fan can only hope that it isn’t his 18-year-old stud who buckles under the Madness.
After solidifying his stellar freshman class, Texas coach Rick Barnes said, “This is one of the better situations in the country. I know this—there are a lot of guys who would like to be sitting in my chair.”
You have to wonder, though, if Barnes will be singing the same tune come March, when he suddenly finds his seat supported by four wobbly legs. For my money, it seems like a sturdier, more experienced piece of furniture—like the one belonging to Florida coach Billy Donovan—would be more comfortable when push really comes to shove.
Kids these days, you know?—you just can't trust 'em.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
An All-Nighter
The Sugar Bowl is a little over a day away and my stomach is already twisting itself in knots over what fate lies my beloved Irish. Like an alcoholic who drinks too much to forget that he has a drinking problem, I decided to indulge in the slew of January 1 games offered by our kind friends at ESPN, CBS, ABC, and Fox. Yes, Fox. Apparently Ed Goren and co. were able to gobble up nearly every BCS broadcast sans the Rose Bowl through 2010. I hope you all like those ridiculous transitional robots jumping on your screen every other minute. Personally, all I need to watch a big-time bowl game is a clear screen and Keith Jackson. Since Jackson's retirement last season, all I can ask for is a screen that doesn't include jumping robots mimicking a player's warm-up routine. All that got flushed right into the sewers when I searched my TV's digital guide for the Fiesta Bowl, which I found to be on Fox. Then I saw Chris Rose in the pre-game. Chris Rose? Isn't he supposed to be announcing some poker tournament in Podunk, Wisconsin or hosting that ridiculous sports show with Spider Sally? Nope, he's sitting right next to Barry Switzer and Jimmie Johnson, blabbing away like he knows what he's talking about. Needless to say, I wasn't happy about this Fox invasion, and it sickens me that I'm forced to watch my bowl games on the same channel that aired Temptation Island and (even worse) Temptation Island II.
But hey, at least the game was good.
Well, that's a huge understatement, considering the 2007 Tostitos Fiesta Bowl may have been the greatest college football game I have ever seen. I said the same thing after last year's BCS Championship game, and I stand by that. But that was USC vs Texas; 2 Heisman Trophy winners versus arguably the best player in the game; 2 legendary NCAA programs battling to a spectacular finish. It was what is was supposed to be - and more. But I never expected Boise State to capture my attention like they did, or for them to pull off one of the single most exciting victories in the history of bowl games. And why should I? They're from the WAC, and according to the BCS brass, no championship worthy teams come out of any conference other than the SEC, Big 10, Big 12, or Pac 10...and maybe the Big East, as long as it's not Southern Florida. So who expected Boise State to beat the powerhouse Oklahoma program: a program that has won 7 national championships and has boasted such legendary coaches as Bennie Owen, Bud Wilkinson, and the aforementioned Barry Switzer? How could Boise State, a school that wasn't granted Division I status until 1995, topple the mighty Sooners?
By having balls of steel, that's how.
Boise State jumped all over the Sooners and held a 28-10 lead midway through the 3rd quarter. Then, a big special teams play and a touchdown by the best running back in the country, Adrian Peterson, coupled with a chip-shot field goal brought the score to 28-20. With a little over 2 minutes to play Oklahoma quarterback Paul Thompson engineered a textbook scoring drive, completing every pass he threw, including a 5 yard touchdown pass to wide receiver Quentin Chaney. He topped it all off with another pass into the end zone for the game-tying 2-point conversion. After the ensuing kickoff, Boise State quarterback Jared Zabransky - who had played wonderfully up until that point - threw an out pattern to a receiver running a fly. The pass was intercepted by OU's Marcus Walker and returned 33 yards for a TD, giving Oklahoma a 7-point lead. With 1:05 remaining, Zabransky stood on the sidelines with a dejected look, and I wondered whether he was capable of bringing his team back from the brink. For how many times have we seen a young quarterback implode after making a costly mistake late in the game? I truly expected a few incompletions, a sack, and the final whistle on an Oklahoma win. But Zabransky wasn't having any of that.
He came onto the field and immediately began moving the ball. But after the drive stalled, Boise State found themselves with a 4th and 18 near mid-field. As I lay in bed, not willing to turn out the lights until the final whistle blew, I thought "one more play and I can go to sleep." Good thing Boise State didn't think that way.
During my junior year in high school, as I stood along the sidelines watching the seniors play, a similar scenario arose. Our team, facing the hated cross-town rivals, was down by 4 points with less than 2 minutes to play. The whole stadium held their breath as our quarterback found his receiver 20 yards down the field, and we all erupted in joy as he pitched the ball to our running back streaking down the sidelines. It's called a hook and ladder play, and is only used when all other options have been exhausted. The other team's defense never touched our lightning-fast RB and we won the game. As our running back coasted to the game-winning TD, I remember jumping up and down, up and down on the sidelines, bathing in the light of unmatched joy. I kept screaming "ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod" as I hugged anyone I could get my hands on. As Boise State's Jerard Rabb tore down the sidelines after receiving the sneaky pitch from his wide receiver, I found myself - lying supine in bed, trying not to wake my slumbering wife - saying the same thing: "ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod"...only this time in a whisper.
By the time I had finished explaining to my wife why she had just been woken up, Adrian Peterson had already scored on the first play of overtime: a 25-yard scamper off the left end. Then it was Boise State's turn. They moved the ball down to the 4 yard line, but after 2 incompletions and a run for no gain, the Broncos faced another 4th down. A simple run probably would have gotten them the 1st down, but the team ran a trick play, sending Zabransky out to split-end and letting wide receiver Vinny Perretta throw the game-tying TD to fellow receiver Derek Schouman. "So," I thought, "it looks like we're headed to double overtime."
To quote the venerable Lee Corso, "Not so fast my friend." Boise's head coach Chris Petersen had other plans.
As the Broncos lined up for their do-or-die 2-point conversion, I felt that familiar nervousness in my stomach that accompanies any tense situation involving a team I love. But I could care less about either of these teams, I was in it for the love of the game. And this game so enthralled me that I began to feel sick to my stomach. Then a quick snap, a fake pass to a bunched group of receivers split off to the right, and a behind-the-back hand off to running back Ian Johnson. The old Statue of Liberty play. Touchdown. Game over.
"ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod."
After apologizing profusely to my wife for waking her up again, I found myself out on the couch, still amazed by what I had just seen. Boise State, the ultimate David, had just knocked off Oklahoma, the ultimate Goliath. They did it with style; the did it with class; they did it with guts. As I pondered over the game in my head, in those few blissful moments before the Sandman arrives, I couldn't help thinking that something about that game just wasn't right. The players played beautifully, the weather had held up, even Fox's coverage was adequate. What then was bothering me? Then it hit me: Boise State had been playing the wrong team. They should have been playing Ohio State.
But hey, at least the game was good.
Well, that's a huge understatement, considering the 2007 Tostitos Fiesta Bowl may have been the greatest college football game I have ever seen. I said the same thing after last year's BCS Championship game, and I stand by that. But that was USC vs Texas; 2 Heisman Trophy winners versus arguably the best player in the game; 2 legendary NCAA programs battling to a spectacular finish. It was what is was supposed to be - and more. But I never expected Boise State to capture my attention like they did, or for them to pull off one of the single most exciting victories in the history of bowl games. And why should I? They're from the WAC, and according to the BCS brass, no championship worthy teams come out of any conference other than the SEC, Big 10, Big 12, or Pac 10...and maybe the Big East, as long as it's not Southern Florida. So who expected Boise State to beat the powerhouse Oklahoma program: a program that has won 7 national championships and has boasted such legendary coaches as Bennie Owen, Bud Wilkinson, and the aforementioned Barry Switzer? How could Boise State, a school that wasn't granted Division I status until 1995, topple the mighty Sooners?
By having balls of steel, that's how.
Boise State jumped all over the Sooners and held a 28-10 lead midway through the 3rd quarter. Then, a big special teams play and a touchdown by the best running back in the country, Adrian Peterson, coupled with a chip-shot field goal brought the score to 28-20. With a little over 2 minutes to play Oklahoma quarterback Paul Thompson engineered a textbook scoring drive, completing every pass he threw, including a 5 yard touchdown pass to wide receiver Quentin Chaney. He topped it all off with another pass into the end zone for the game-tying 2-point conversion. After the ensuing kickoff, Boise State quarterback Jared Zabransky - who had played wonderfully up until that point - threw an out pattern to a receiver running a fly. The pass was intercepted by OU's Marcus Walker and returned 33 yards for a TD, giving Oklahoma a 7-point lead. With 1:05 remaining, Zabransky stood on the sidelines with a dejected look, and I wondered whether he was capable of bringing his team back from the brink. For how many times have we seen a young quarterback implode after making a costly mistake late in the game? I truly expected a few incompletions, a sack, and the final whistle on an Oklahoma win. But Zabransky wasn't having any of that.
He came onto the field and immediately began moving the ball. But after the drive stalled, Boise State found themselves with a 4th and 18 near mid-field. As I lay in bed, not willing to turn out the lights until the final whistle blew, I thought "one more play and I can go to sleep." Good thing Boise State didn't think that way.
During my junior year in high school, as I stood along the sidelines watching the seniors play, a similar scenario arose. Our team, facing the hated cross-town rivals, was down by 4 points with less than 2 minutes to play. The whole stadium held their breath as our quarterback found his receiver 20 yards down the field, and we all erupted in joy as he pitched the ball to our running back streaking down the sidelines. It's called a hook and ladder play, and is only used when all other options have been exhausted. The other team's defense never touched our lightning-fast RB and we won the game. As our running back coasted to the game-winning TD, I remember jumping up and down, up and down on the sidelines, bathing in the light of unmatched joy. I kept screaming "ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod" as I hugged anyone I could get my hands on. As Boise State's Jerard Rabb tore down the sidelines after receiving the sneaky pitch from his wide receiver, I found myself - lying supine in bed, trying not to wake my slumbering wife - saying the same thing: "ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod"...only this time in a whisper.
By the time I had finished explaining to my wife why she had just been woken up, Adrian Peterson had already scored on the first play of overtime: a 25-yard scamper off the left end. Then it was Boise State's turn. They moved the ball down to the 4 yard line, but after 2 incompletions and a run for no gain, the Broncos faced another 4th down. A simple run probably would have gotten them the 1st down, but the team ran a trick play, sending Zabransky out to split-end and letting wide receiver Vinny Perretta throw the game-tying TD to fellow receiver Derek Schouman. "So," I thought, "it looks like we're headed to double overtime."
To quote the venerable Lee Corso, "Not so fast my friend." Boise's head coach Chris Petersen had other plans.
As the Broncos lined up for their do-or-die 2-point conversion, I felt that familiar nervousness in my stomach that accompanies any tense situation involving a team I love. But I could care less about either of these teams, I was in it for the love of the game. And this game so enthralled me that I began to feel sick to my stomach. Then a quick snap, a fake pass to a bunched group of receivers split off to the right, and a behind-the-back hand off to running back Ian Johnson. The old Statue of Liberty play. Touchdown. Game over.
"ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod."
After apologizing profusely to my wife for waking her up again, I found myself out on the couch, still amazed by what I had just seen. Boise State, the ultimate David, had just knocked off Oklahoma, the ultimate Goliath. They did it with style; the did it with class; they did it with guts. As I pondered over the game in my head, in those few blissful moments before the Sandman arrives, I couldn't help thinking that something about that game just wasn't right. The players played beautifully, the weather had held up, even Fox's coverage was adequate. What then was bothering me? Then it hit me: Boise State had been playing the wrong team. They should have been playing Ohio State.
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