Spartan Accomodations

     I love being right, well, kind of right. In my pre-game post, I indicated that Nebraska should employ the base nickle defense instead of the 4-3 they've been running all year. Carl did me one better. He utilized Green Bay's 'Psycho' defense in obvious passing downs, which for Michigan State seemed to be third-and-greater than 3.
     Old-school, smashed mouth, slobberknockin' football is my favorite. Sure the kids are bigger, faster, and stronger than the kids in the long, long ago, far away time. but the principles are the same. Get there the fastest with the mostest and you win the engagement before it even starts.
     For having a really cool mascot, and an outstanding legend to build a football team and athletic department around, MSU sure does seem to have a lot of  ass-holes on the team. I'm not saying you shouldn't be edgy, or try to get into the other guys head, but play with some control to that edge. To be fair, if you want to be an ass-hole and cost your team fifteen yards, that's fine, I'll take it, swing away at the guy wearing a helmet, genius.
     Herodotus should be required reading for every football player. Why? Check him out for yourself.
     Blackshirts should be in lockers this week, at least in my humble opinion. Best performance of the season, and Bo pretty much let it slip during the post-game conference that they had been earned. In that vein I want to congratulate Ankrah, Steinkuhler, Rome, Cameron, Compton, Fisher, David, Dennard, Stafford, Austin, and Jean-Baptiste. I want to toss a couple extra shirts in the lockers of Evans, Thorell, and Green for not giving up and growing into their roles, even when surrounded by negativity. Plus one more for Jared Crick, who has more than earned his.

     Check out Coach Carl presenting the Blackshirt

     Rex Burkhead may end up as one of he all-time best running backs in NU history. He may not end up with the numbers of a Rozier or a Green, or have the highlight reel of Phillips or Jones, and I will pretty much guarantee he never gets the cover of Sports Illustrated, but play-for-play, pound-for-pound, this guy is one of the best and I would want him on any team I was coaching. Which is probably why 85,000 fans were holding their collective breath when he didn't get up after a third quarter play. This is a guy who always gets up. Leg cramps. Two plays later he caught a 27-yard TD toss from Martinez. Bo calls him a warrior. I dare anyone to disagree.

     I-Backasaurus Rex in action

     I like this big, physical, tough Big Ten Conference. It suits Nebraska and the way they play. I especially like how defensive linemen look in the fourth quarter when they are out of gas and keep looking at the clock wondering when it's going to be over. I especially like how Yoshi smiles and helps a defender up after all 320 pounds of him have been crushing him into the field turf.
     If Taylor Martinez comes Trick-or-Treating, tomorrow. I want to slip a guide of proper throwing mechanics into his treat bag. He's got speed, he understands the offense, he is a leader, but I really, really, really wish he would learn to step into his throws.
     Nebraska may have to play Penn State twice in four weeks. Their offense isn't that impressive, but their defense looks to be almost as good as Sparty's. Hmmm. They are 5-0 in B1G play and have the pole position for the LeaderS. If Nebraska wins out, Penn State would have one loss and could win their division with a 7-1 record. That would make a re-match for the B1G Championship game. But, get this. If Ohio State wins out, and Nebraska wins out, then there would be a Nebraska-Ohio State re-match. There is also still a possibility of a Nebraska-Wisconsin re-match, but a lot would have to happen, now that they have dropped two straight, to teams Nebraska beat.
     Nebraska should be back in the Top 10, now that Clemson, Michigan State and Kansas State each got dropped, yesterday. The University of Nebraska's Geological seismology department recorded a spike at 5:33 p.m., yesterday. Leading theories indicate that it was the sudden impact of Wildcatfans expectations meeting reality.
     I got to watch some Stanford and Andrew Luck. Based on what I've heard, I'm hoping that I saw the worst game of his career, because he did not look like future #1 draft pick against USC.
     Going to the Northwestern game, this Saturday. It's on the 5th of November, Guy Fawkes Day, or Bonfire Night. I have to get a 'V for Vendetta' mask and paint N's on it. I'll be sitting in the faculty section, so you'll probably be able to hear me. I'll be the only one cheering...loudly, anyway.
     Husk-husk and on the qb.

Go, Tell the Spartans, that They're Going to Lose.

     Lloyd, Cassandra, Preacherman and I were just hanging out, watching the crowds from East Lansing, West Lansing, and something called the "You Pee" filter into "Our Lady" ready top drop some cash, kill a few brain cells and leave convinced that the girls really liked them.
     We hadn't seen much of Mr. Davison. After our last encounter here, he had kind of vamoosed...if that's really a word. Anyway, his absence had allowed for us to concentrate on other, important things, like a few runaway cases, an embezzlement scheme and a background check for a security firm. Sheesh, talk about paranoid.
     Now it was game time. We had gathered together to break down the game. This one is HUGE. Inside track for the LegendS division, lasting relevance in the National Championship debate, and a classic offensive strength vs. defensive strength debate.
     "Lloyd!" I shouted to get his attention away from his iphone. "Tell me how the offense beats this Sparty defense."
     "On the ground," he said, briefly closing his phone with a swipe of his finger. "Bo and Tim have to commit to the ground game and short passes. Sparty loves to blitz, and they trust their d-backs enough to play one and one and force the qb into a 'hot read' situation. The MSU front seven is tough and aggressive, but kind of soft against the run. Keep Taylor out of 3rd-and-longs, and use the run to set up play-action passes and the offense should be fine."
     He reached for a sip of his coffee. Always the coffee, with Lloyd.
     "I think the Huskers should run a few screen plays, traditional or bubble. Against a hyper aggressive defense, with the weapons at our disposal, can turn a short pass into a long gainer at any time. They just have to time it right, make one guy miss and paydirt, baby."
     "How does the run-game enter into the picture, though?"
     "We gotta commit to it. Pound them with the run all day long. It may take a half, or three quarters, but with the 8-man rotation our line uses, and the depth we have at running back, by the fourth quarter, the I-backasaurus Rex will be eating up yards, time and Spartan souls."
     "Score prediction?"
     "Huskers 35, Spartans 31."
     I looked over at Cassandra, who seemed to be having a really good time. She was sitting all the way back, smiling and holding her drink as if to cover up her smile. "What's with you?" I asked. "Do you think Lloyd's off base, or something?"
     "No, nothing like that," she said, laughing. "I don't get into your Husker break-downs. I just don't know enough about them to make anything I say relevant. I'm amused by watching how guys act in places like this."
     "Yeah, it is kind of depressing," I conceded.
     "Not at all, it's hilarious. Just watch how these guys will pony up cash, and drinks, I know this place does the 'Saigon Tea' trick for the girls, and do things that resemble the antics of naughty school kids who think the teacher isn't looking."
     "Be careful, Preach might get offended."
     "Who do you think I'm watching?"
     Preacherman made his way back to the table, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Cassandra and I both laughed when he sat down. Lloyd had gone back to his apps.
     "What?" Preacherman asked, looking slightly dazed.
     "Nothing, man. Inside joke," I said as Cassandra tried to hide her ever widening smile. "Tell me how the defense does against the Spartans."
     "Get this," Preach leaned forward enthusiastically. "We gonna break out the base nickle defense, and run peso on passing situations."
     "Hmmm, interesting. Explain," I said.
     "MSU's got no real ground game to speak of. We can drop five guys back into coverage, and let the best two linebackers roam. David and Compton can fill gaps all day long. MSU does not have a Monte Ball or a Chris Polk that can gouge way at you all day. With five guys covering, or six or seven as the call shakes out, it makes Cousins, their quarterback take that much more time to read a defense that he probably hasn't seen on film. All week long they've been breaking down the defense from this year, and we haven't run the base nickle. They won't know what to do, they'll have to adjust on the fly, and I'm not so sure they'll be able to do that well enough to come back and have success through the air, like they did against Notre Dame and Wisconsin."
     "So your saying play to stop the passing attack, and dare them to beat us on the ground?"
     "Exactly, in a nutshell. Where's my new girlfriend. I'm getting me some private time."
     I though Cassandra's drink was going to come out of her nose, which would have burned, as Preach got up. "What's your score prediction?" I asked before he could go get an up-close look at some pasties.
     "Huskers 17, Spartans 13, and not even that close, really."
     "So what's your take on the game, oh gumshoe guru of the gridiron?" Cassandra asked, half-mockingly. Ok, it was more like three-quarters mockingly, but I'll take a quarter of sincerity when I can get it.
     "Standard Huskerfan and football fan logic would state it as: A. Wisconsin pounded Nebraska. B. Michigan State beat Wisconsin in a close game. C. Michigan State will pound Nebraska."
     "Yeah, I can see that," Cassandra nodded.
     "Hegelian dialectic," Lloyd added.
     "Right. Here is another way of looking at Michigan State, at home, they are 5-0 and have knocked off some good teams, like Wisconsin, and Michigan, and some others, but they have really good stats against them and Youngstown State, Florida Atlantic and Central Michigan."
     Lloyd cleared his throat. Cassandra leaned back in her chair, smiled and said, "Go on."
     "On the road they are completely different. They lost, badly, to a weak Notre Dame team, and only managed 10 points against an Ohio State defense that was on the field all day long, and that the Huskers dropped 34 on, 28 in the second half."
     "Where are you going with this?"
     "Throw in the emotional ups and downs of a football season, and I don't think they can get juiced up for a fourth game. They hate Ohio State. Really hate Michigan, and get their kicks taking it to Wisconsin. Ask anybody who has played the game, and they will tell you that you just can't get emotionally 'up', for 12 weeks in a row. Here they are, huge emotional win against Wisconsin, that they have been hearing about all week. They have an early kickoff against a team that they think they should be able to roll pretty easily, since they beat Wisconsin. They don't have a history with Nebraska. None of these guys were there when Bo earned his first win in the Alamo Bowl. I think they will be flat, Nebraska will be better motivated and the time is ripe for Bo to dispel some of those 'Top 10 demons' and get a big win, and keep moving forward."
     Cassandra clapped slowly. "Bravo, what is your score prediction?"
     "Huskers 27, Thpartans 23. The real Spartans always did a much better job of defending their home turf. Plus, they are best known for a heroic, epic defeat. They get to add to that legend, today."
     "One more prediction," I said. "The Blackshirts get their colors, today, before the game."
     Husk-husk and on the qb.

Week 9 picks...weakly

     Tried to get an update from my crew on their research to the one and only Alan Davison. Also had to try to get their input for this weeks slate of weak games; except for the one in Lincoln, which will be epic.
      "Mr. Leroix," I called out into the ether. "What do you have going on this week?"
     "Ah tell you what, cher. Ah found out some intrestin' stuff on our ami, Alan, but deh mo impo-tant stuff going on is ah'm trying to use dis week to prepare for Le Grand game, next week."
     "Hit me with the good stuff, Leroix, and save me a Turbo Dog."
     "Shore will do dat," he laughed. "Fust things fust. Mr. Davison has been employed by a series of airlines for the past 15 years or so. He worked his way up de chain, flying for rinky-dink regional outfits until he got his shot at deh big time, workin' fo' one of deh big airlines. Until about a year ago, he just up and disappears. No employment record, no taxes, no nuffin'. It's almost lahk he done got erased."
      "Interesting. What are you going to do to occupy your time while you await Armageddon?"
     Ah'll jus' have to bide mah tahm watchin the Piggies from Arkansaw beat up on Vanderbilt. Ah don' know how much more an elderly Arkansaw fan could take, wit' dem comin' from behind every week. Dis week shouldn't be a prawblem. Piggies 34, Commodores 13. Down over in Georgiah, Le Tigres L'Orange have to go play the smart kids at Tech. Smart kids will lose on the field, but will get jobs working at NASCAR or the aviation industry or NASA. Wait, never mind dat las' one. Clemson 56, Smart Kids 31."
     I dreaded placing the next call, but it had to be done. "Bubba!" I shouted when the line picked up. Bad move.
     "What is your problem?" Bubba yelled at me. "I'm still hung over, and plan to be hung over. I still can't believe how badly the Sooners pissed down their legs...against Texas Tech," the last part sounded like a cross between a sob and a wail.
     "Just tell me what you know, Bubba."
     "I crossed checked the info that Leroix sent me with my contacts. It looks like this Davison cat started raising his profile as a tree-top flier, recently. My people think he's been making a name for himself landing loads from south of the border on unmarked fields in Texas. Nothing huge yet, but he ain't been busted and it seems that he is able to keep his mouth shut."
     This was some interesting info, but it didn't add up with the uniform. I had to put that element on the back burner.
     "What are you watching this week?"
     "The only thing I've got is Baylor rolling into Stillwater. This could be interesting, since I think RG3 can move the ball on the Cow Rapers. I don't think they'll have the juice to go the distance with Okie Lite's offense, but it will be closer than people think. Okie Lite 49, Baptists 41."
     "How are your Sooner's going to do against K-state?" I hazarded.
     "Right now I have a feeling that the match-ups work in OU's favor. The Purple Pussies don't throw the ball like Tech, and OU still moved the ball and scored, just didn't get enough stops from the D. This is K-State's come to earth game. Sooners 45, Pussies 24."

     I called up Marcus to see what his research had yielded. "Dude," he said, as usual. "This Davison cat may be in waaaay over his head. He's dealing with some heavy hitters from down South. The dudes he's gotten in with have a history of setting their mules up. They bring in one final big load, and when the mule goes to get his payment, there are feds all over the place with enough incriminating evidence to make them prime candidates to win a vacation at Club Fed. Only pilots too desperate or too stupid still sign on with them."

     "Hmmm. Cool. Good work. How are your picks coming?"

     "Dude, boring games. Wazzu has to go to Oregon to get drilled, easily a 63-21 game for the Quackers. Stanford goes to the bright lights of LA to spank the University of Spoiled Children. While both QB's will be playing on Sundays, soon, Stanford and Luck are way better. Like, 49-17 better, dude."

     That just left Grandma and Lloyd and their B1G picks.

     "Grandma, I called out, how's it going?"

      "Just fine, Deary. I found something interesting."

     "What's that, Grandma?"

     "It seems that our Mr. Davison was doing fine until some point after 9/11. There are some interesting things on the internet that go beyond the usual conspiracy hoo-hah. It seems that there have been an increase in cases of 'Stolen Glory' for first responders and airline employees similar to those guys that claim to be Iraq or Afghanistan veterans when the nearest they got to combat was shoveling shit in Louisiana. Apparently, there are whispers that Mr. D got drummed out of the Major Airliner business after a few too many  heated confrontations with stews on-board his planes when they didn't show him enough respect for being a pilot when 9/11 happened. Weird, huh?"

     "That's good stuff, Grandma. Let's have your picks, please."

     "Of course, Deary. Northwestern will kink the Hosers, but who doesn't, 38-21. My old Boyfriend and his Knitting Lions will handle the illness with a box of tissues. Illinois has gone from New and improved contender to same old pretender in two weeks. PSU 28, IU 14. In a battle of red-on-red, the Stinking Badgers have to go to the Horseshoe and play a steady improving Ohio State. Trap game, watch out Bucky, Brutus and the Buckeyes upset Bucky and the Badgers 23-21."

     Lloyd's picks were next. "I don't have anything fun to add, like everybody else. So I'll just do my picks for the LegendS home games."

     "You're stuck with me all the time, buddy. You get to do the interesting stuff up close and personal. Lay those picks on me."

     "Purdue has to go to Michigan. I have to go with Wolverhampton, but closer than people think, 31-28 for Shoelaces and company over the Boilmakers. Iowa has to go to Minnesota, play around at A.C.E.S. and kill rodents. 38-17, Hackneys."    

     The case of Alan Davison was getting more and more interesting. Just not as interesting as the big showdown in Lincoln. The ancient Spartans are best known for their heroic stand at Thermopylae against the Persians. I wonder if the MSU Spartans know that despite the stand, they still lost.
     Husk-husk and on the qb.

Top 10 shaken, not stirred

     Cassandra and I were waiting for Alan Davison, formerly Mystery Date, to show up. He had called the number on the card. I made Effie arrange the time and date. I was keeping him at arms distance, making him dance to my tune. If he wanted to play with the big boys, he'd have to play by the rules.
     "Our Lady" was nearly deserted, once the girls saw who we were, they went back to their cell phones, ipads, nooks and whatever other electronic distractions they had to pass the time on a slow day.
     I ordered an Oklahoma meltdown; double shot of bourbon and water, in a glass thinly coated with grenadine, and a dry ice chunk foaming away. It's served with a warning.
     After Cassandra finished talking to the waiteress/dancer about a Poli-Sci 400 class the dancer was taking, she turned her attention to her Top 10 and what we hoped to achieve with Mr. Alan Davison.
     "I want to throw him off balance," I said. "Today I want him to know that we're on to him, but I want to be completely dismissive. I want him to leave here thinking that we regard him as lower than snail crap, which we do."
     "What do you want me to do?"
     "Just keeping talking to me as if he isn't even here. Pretend he's invisible."
     "Gotcha."
     "It's down to ten teams with a legit shot at the big show," she said, grooving to the live version of 'Polly' coming from the speakers. "Nebraska is still there, but barely, at number 10, and they have a HUGE game with Michigan State. The winner lakes the Legends Division, for all intents and purposes, and gets a re-match with Wisconsin, who I have at number 9."
     I gave her a strange look as my drink foamed and sputtered.
     "Here's how I figure it. Wisconsin beat Nebraska convincingly, for their only loss. Michigan State got a lucky, fluky play, at home, to beat Bucky and the Badgers, and has lost convincingly to a Notre Dame team that is underwhelming. All in all, if I was doing a Top 11, that's where I would have Sparty."
     "Who do you have at number 8?" I asked.
     "Arkansas," Cassandra said, nodding her head to AC/DC's 'First Blood'. "They had to rally to beat Mississippi, but rally they did. Oregon is at number 7, after a convincing win against Colorado. Ok, who am I kidding? They way Colorado is playing, they would be lucky to beat an FCS school."
     Ouch.
     "Clemson is at number 6, and could probably be ranked higher if their defense was better. With as good as their offense is, they don't have to be."
     At that point, Alan Davison walked in, late, but he actually showed.
     One girl sighed and put away her nook, and got up on stage as Kiss's 'Domino' started playing. I waved him over, avoiding any pretense of not knowing him. He didn't exactly try to hide, since he was wearing his airline pilot/bus driver uniform.
     He sat down, I stared directly at him as he looked around, trying to get a fix on his surroundings. I sat silently, waiting for him to initiate conversation. He looked nervous in spite of whatever authority he thought his uniform lent him. I respect two uniforms; Military, especially if there is Ranger tab on the shoulder, and cops, especially when you hear the words, "You have the right to remain silent...". Outside of that, I don't have much time for uniforms, he might as well have been wearing a McDonald's uniiform.
     "So, I guess we are..." he started.
     "You are here to listen," I interrupted him, displaying contempt for him by being rude, and dictating that I was in charge. Psychology can be fun. "I know who you are. Who you are trying to protect, and what your game is. You are a guy who thinks you are King Shit on Turd Mountain because you drive an airplane around the sky. You are involved in an affair with a former client of ours who tried to pull a double-cross. Now you are trying to put pressure on us so she doesn't take a big time bath when the engagement is called off. Am I right?"
     "You don't know anything--"
     Cassandra jumped into the act. "I have Stanford at number 5. They simply obliterated Washington, and my boyfriend didn't even have to break a sweat."
     Alan looked flustered. Perfect. "Who do you have at 4?" I asked.
     "Wait, what are you --"
     I held up my hand to Alan. "The lady is talking," I said. "Let her finish."
     "Okie State. Unless they throw up on themselves like OU did, they should be playing for all the Big 12 marbles."
     "One more thing, O Captain, my Captain," I said to the sweating, squirming Mr. Davison. "You need to quit with the amateur detective game. I made you weeks ago. Your fieldcraft sucks and if you thought you could frighten or intimidate me, you're sadly mistaken. I've been frightened and intimidated by the best, and you're nowhere near the best. Please continue Cassandra."
     "I have Alabama at number 3, and LSU at number 2. Just so you know, I don't care what you want me to do, next Saturday, I'm not doing it. I'm watching Bama and LSU on TV. Deal with it."
     "Now wait just one minute--" Davison got in.
     "What? You're still here? I'm done with you. Go away. You aren't worth the time or effort. Go try to score one of the dancers, maybe she'll find you sad and pathetic like a lost puppy and give you a mercy date. Get outta my sight before I start singing 'Hail to the Bus Driver'."
     He sat there for a couple more seconds. His mouth worked, but nothing came out. His face reddened with rage and frustration. The meeting did not go as he had planned. It went exactly as I had planned. We had one last piece of business to attend to as he stormed away.
     "You know he'll be back, don't you?" Cassandra asked.
     "I know that as surely as I know that, despite all logic, you still have Boise State at number one."
     "Yep," she smiled. "That was too easy, don't you think?"
     I tossed back the rest of my drink. It was awful. "As easy as Boise State's schedule."
Husk-husk and on the qb.

Post Minnesota

I just wanted to drop a quick line on a few impressions from the Minnesota game.
This is going to be a bit nit-picky, since one really can't complain too much about a game that was over by the half.
Taylor, there are still times that you try too hard. Third and goal from inside the one, even if it looks like you are stuffed, plunge ahead, don't ever pitch the ball, especially when Rex isn't expecting it. Fourth and goal inside the one has many more possibilities than fourth and goal from the six.
Rex Burkhead (I-backasaurus Rex) can single-handed turn a no-gainer into a three yard gain for a first down. Dear o-line, he shouldn't have to. Lots of good work from the guys up front, but short-yardage situations have been tough, this year.
The Husker receivers look good for the most part, except for a couple of hands issues. Bell had a drop when his feet went out from under him, and Turner had a drop that would have been an easy six. Marlow snatched a pass from the air that kept a drive alive for a good hands effort.
Brandon Kinnie showed he can bust a move when he needs to.
Odd series in the third quarter. 1st and 10 from the Gopher 34, deep pass to Bell, open in the end zone, clearly interfered with, no flag. 2nd and 10, deep pass to Marlowe, Taylor overthrew him like an Mid-East dictator. 3rd and 10, deep pass to Turner, ball falls into his hands and he drops it. Two things about this sequence. I completely get why Beck called three deep passes in a row, the receivers were all wide open every time. They blew past the corners on all three plays. I usually avoid coulda woulda shoulda, but the second and third attempts would not have been necessary had the interference call been made. The other thing, it's extra practice, up by 34 points, lets get some more reps for the play, why not?
The d-line looked pretty good. I like Chase Rome's nastiness, but he's got to reel it in to keep it legal. Bo informed him that a shot to a guys ear when it has absolutely no bearing on the play is quite unacceptable, and that the Nebraska coaches and fellow players view such acts unbecoming and simply will not be tolerated. There were probably some f-bombs, but I would be speculating.
Overall the D looked pretty good. One touchdown set up by a double-reverse-flea-flicker that the d-backs were still able to converge on. Gophers got in on a 3rd and goal play that the defense froze on when they heard the "ball" call. One touchdown against the second string, on a drive that was kept alive on a 4th and 2 completion that I thought the Gopher dropped as he went out of bounds. ABC did a horrible job covering the explanation as to why the "continuation" rule didn't apply. They were at a commercial. Not surprising. I think the game had ABC's regional third string unit. Note to ABC, hire some guys that actually know the rules, especially the one about how a backward pass is a live ball, OK?
General impressions for the rest of the country. Stanford is under-rated. OU should have been dropped into the fire for losing, at home, to the worst passing defense in the country. In two weeks, Illinois has gone from B1G contender to slightly better than Indiana. I have to wait two weeks for the LSU-Alabama game that is the de facto National Championship game. Sparty fan is now completely convinced that instant replay is the greatest innovation since TV dinners and the remote control.
Huskerfan will be lamenting and wailing the Sparty game this week with the following logic. Thesis: Wisconsin blew Nebraska out. Antithesis: Michigan State was better than Wisconsin. Synthesis: Michigan State will blow Nebraska out.
All apologies to Hegel.
One last impression, this dude is fast.

Hunting Golden Rodents

            Lloyd and I had cruised up to Minneapolis to catch the Huskers and watch the obliteration of the Golden Rodents of the University of Minnesota. Minnesota has a long and storied history of football success. Most of it happening before any of us had televisions.

            On the way Lloyd kept giggling at one of his favorite lines from 'Caddy Shack'.

Sandy: "Carl, I need for you to kill every gopher on the course."

Carl: "Sandy, correct me if I'm wrong, but if I kill every golfer on the course, they're gonna lock me up and throw away the key."

Sandy: "Not golfers. GOPHERS!"

            I know. It's funnier when Bill Murray does it.

            I had bought Lloyd a gift card for a place at the Mall of America that I thought he'd like. For 36 bucks he'd get a pre-flight briefing and 30 minutes behind the yoke of a P-51 Mustang simulator at a place called A.C.E.S.

            On the way, we did actually discuss the upcoming game, not that there was a whole lot to discuss. "What do you think the offense needs to do, Lloyd?" I asked.

            "Power run game. I-backasaurus Rex should go for a minimum of 100 yards, today. We can use this game to preserve Taylor's legs and minimize his risk, especially since a large number of Huskerfans seem to think he's going to break down at some point."

            "Does he need to throw the ball, much?"

            "Maybe some play-action stuff for a big play to demoralize the defense. I think that Beck might mix in some short passes to the backs and tight ends to keep the Gophers honest on D, make them pay if they load up eight or nine guys in the box to stop the run. If they do that I expect to see Kenny Bell all alone behind a Gopher corner. All-in-all, I think that this game is on the shoulders of the o-line, erode the defense's ability in the trenches and watch as three and four yard gains become seven and eight yard gains. Pop a few big plays and this game is over by half-time."

            As we waited for Lloyd's turn at the simulator, I could see he was envisioning himself as Don Blakeslee, Robin Olds or Chuck Yeager, taking it to the dirty Krauts in their 'Butcher Birds' and Messerschmitts. Even though they had an F4U Corsair simulator that he could use to re-enact 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' scenes, it was the Mustang I knew he would choose.

            After his briefing, he suited up and got into the simulator. Shortly he was cruising over the Ruhr Valley when he spotted a formation of Me-109's in a loose 'finger-four' about 10,000 feet below him. He kicked the Mustang into a dive and set his sights on the tail-end Charlie.

            As the 109 filled his gun-sight, he pressed the trigger and the six fifty-caliber machine guns barks a short burst. The German plane fell apart under his assault as he flashed by. He pulled back on the yoke and pulled up under the second target before they could react. Another short burst from the fifties smoked his second 109 as he gained altitude and traded speed for height.

            He was in a little bit of trouble now, he had knocked the odds down to a 2-to-1 fight, but it was still a 2-to-1 fight. Lloyd pushed the stick forward and dove toward the 109's, that were climbing up at him, they blended into the ground while Lloyd was silhouetted against the sky. He kicked his rudder to skid a bit and jinked to throw off their aim. In a great anticipation move, Lloyd unloaded a burst just before the Messerschmitts flashed by. He rolled the Mustang through a 180-degree roll and hauled back on the stick. one of the 'Schmitts was smoking and breaking off from the other, making it a one-on-one fight. The remaining 109 continued over on its back and looped over to dive inverted for the ground. Lloyd followed it over. The remaining 109 flew for the deck and started twisting and turning, trying to throw Lloyd's aim off. Lloyd opened the throttle and slowly closed in on the 109. They were barreling along on the deck, hopping over houses between buildings as Lloyd closed in for the kill. He closed the range to less than 200 yards, letting the Me-109 fill his sight as Lloyd pulled the throttle back and matched speed and kept up maneuver for maneuver with the last target.

            When he finally had had enough, Lloyd let loose with a long burst from his six guns. The 109 fell apart and crashed while Lloyd threw the throttle forward and pulled up into a zoom climb followed by a hard right stick that sent him spiraling upward.

            When he climbed out of the simulator, he had an enormous grin on his face.

            "If the defense plays like that," he said. "Swarming to the ball, taking on all blockers, regardless of the odds, and knocking down everything that comes their way, they can seriously talk about getting their Blackshirts."

            As we left, I noticed a maintenance guy checking out the Mustang simulator, shaking his head. I think Lloyd might have broken it.

            "I don't care if MarQueis Gray is a 'mobile' quarterback or not. This is the game where the defense shows whether or not the quantum leap they have made since halftime of the Ohio State game is real or illusory. Stanley Jean-Baptiste is starting at corner. I don't like the nickname of SJB, so I will call him 'Sting'. We'll see if that sticks," Lloyd said.

            "Who replaces Crick?" I asked.

            "The Crick injury may actually help these guys. I think Chase Rome will get the start, with Terence Moore getting a lot of playing time, too. The injury may help by giving these guys a rallying point. They see what Jared gave up, he could have been cashing big, fat checks for playing on Sundays, but he came back for the team. Each and every one of those guys can see an example of giving it your all for the greater good of the team, and can try to live up to that example by showing it on the field."

            "Stop thinking, just play your asses off," I said.

            "Exactly. Let's go find someplace that serves pints of bitter. We need to celebrate another successful return from the continent."

            "It'd be awesome if the D picked off four passes like your four kills," I said.

            "That would be awesome, especially if it led to a blowout."

            "How does 56-17 sound?"

            Lloyd nodded. "Tally-ho, baby."

Husk-husk and on the qb.

Week 8 picks

It was time to gather the troops, get their ideas for the upcoming games and set them on their tasks to find out just who Alan Davison is, and, as the English say, "what's he on about?"

            I called up Leroix, down in Red Stick. "How's it going down on the bayou?"

            "T'ings is troubled down heah, cher," he replied, his Cajun accent as thick as gumbo with extra okra. "I gots three minah distractions and three major distractions that jus' don' set raht."

            "Tell me what's up, Leroix."

            "Deh minah distractions are Arkansas at Mississippi, which deh Sooey-Pigs should win pretty easily, 45-10, le's say. Deh Red Tide gets to play host to deh Voles of Tennessee, and shun't have no prawblem wit' dem, either. 'Bama Red Necks 42, Voles 3. Den I gots deh Tigres L'Orange tearin' up some powdah blue Billy Goats from Nort' Carolinah, who are countin' down deh days to basketball season. Clemson 38-24."

            "So, what are the major distractions?" I asked, already having a good idea that a drug bust was what he had on his mind. Not his, but three LSU players.

            "Tharold Simon, Spencer Ware and deh Honey Badger, Tyrann Mathieu, all suspended for violation of deh teams 'drug policy'. And we gots to play Auburn, who ain't deh Auburn of las' year cause 'Scam' Newton is gone, but dis game jus' got more interesting den it needed to be. Ah still t'ink Les Tigres de LSU goanna win, but it will be a lot closer dan it needed be. LSU Tigres 28, Auburn Tiggers 17."

            "Thanks, Leroix. I need for you to make some checks on employment history on that file I sent you. Can you still get that for me despite all the distractions?"

            "Shoo, Cap, I ain't never let you down. I gar-an-tee ah'l get it done."

            I had to call up Bubba, and see how his picks were coming along. "Bubba, how's it going in the most powerful state in college football?"

            "Let's just say things are fixin' to get real interesting on the first week of December. If both Alabama and LSU drop a game, and if the Sooners and Cowboys keep winning, their game could be #1 v. #2 and the game of the 21st century."

            "Great," I said. "Here and now. What's on tap, this week?"

            "My Sooners are hosting Texas Tech. First home game in two weeks and Tech is about on par with Texas. I'd say Sooners 48, Red Rooters 21. At the eastern edge of the conference, the whiniest team that nobody wants is going up against the Cow Rapers. I'm not calling for an upset, but this game will be closer than people think. Okie Lite gets off to slow starts sometimes, and Misery plays pretty well at home. I think this may be a one possession game, OSU 35, Misery 28."

            "Got it down. I need for you to discreetly enquire about any criminal dealings with our new best friend, Alan."

            Bubba laughed. "Enquire discreetly? I'll ask around a bit and find out what the word on the street is. Based on what you've told me, I'm bettin' it comes up a dry well."

            I placed my next call to Marcus, who seemed to be just waking up. His voice sounded as thick and damp as a Bay Area fog.

            "Let's hear the news, Mr. McCleod."

            "Dude, Boise should have no problem with Air Force unless they're allowed to use Reapers. Buncos 52-17. Oregon gets to go to the People's Soviet Socialist Republic of Boulder and the clouds that will be at ground level won't be cumulo-nimbus, if you get my drift."

            I did.

            "The Quackers should handle the Fubbaloes even if their third string quarterback starts. Ducks 38, Fubbs 10. In the most compelling game of the week, for me, anyway, Stanford has to go to Seattle and show off Andrew Luck to all the Seahawk fans. He will tease them since they have already won too many games to get a shot at drafting him. He will pick apart that Husky secondary. The Puppies will score, just not often enough. Tell Cassandra her boyfriend will look awesome. Stanford School of Public Policy 45, U-Dub 31, dude."

            "You know what else I need on that file I sent you, right?"

            "Dude, don't talk drug shit on the phone."

            "I didn't, Marcus."

            "Ahhh, dude." click.

            I called up Grandma, who was owning Lloyd over the past few weeks, but she only had one game, and Lloyd needed to catch up. "How are we doing, Grandma?"

            "Just fine, Deary. Keeping my Remington .30-06 ready just in case another crazed Bengal Tiger tries to get in."

            "Grandma, your miles away from Zanesville, and what do you mean, 'another'?"

            "I blasted one at 200 yards just yesterday. I don't want to go out to check, because they're all over the place."

            "I think they got all of them, Grandma."

            "Oh. Maybe that explains why Mrs. Tressel's god-damned cat didn't yowl me awake this morning. Pity."

            "Who's going to win the game?" I sighed.

            The Illness bounces back, but the Boilmakes make them earn it. IU 27, PU 24."

            "Thanks Grandma, I'll let you know if we need anybody 'taken out'"

            Lloyd was busy, trying to determine the outcomes of his three games. "In a nutshell, The Hackneys beat the Hosers 31-21. The Knitting Lions get by, yet again, past Northwestern 26-20, and in the B1G game of the week. Whisky beats Sparty, but not as bad as they beat us, setting up next week's game here as an epic battle for the LegendS division. Russell Wilson makes too many plays, and Gholston is suspended for a game for MSU. Score, Stinking Badgers 31, Thpartans 20."

            I wonder if Lloyd or Grandma is in the lead.

Husk-husk, and on the QB.

Plus, here is an awesome video. Enjoy, Huskerfan

http://huskernsider.tumblr.com/post/11701076316/heres-the-ultimate-n-sider-celebrating-history

Top 11 and Stinging Mystery Date

     I called Cassandra from the office. "I will call you in three minutes. Be ready to roll." I clicked off, grabbed my coat and headed downstairs. Mystery Date was in his usual spot. I was assuming a bit, but nobody reads the Wall Street Journal outside, in the wind.
     As I cruised by Mystery Date, I activated the crackberry and called Cassandra, again. "Meet me at the corner of 10th and Charleston in a half-hour," I said loudly as I passed by Mystery Date, intentionally holding the phone to my left ear, cutting off my field of vision. I didn't really need to see his reaction. Too bad.
     Cassandra showed up right on time. Punctuality is a lost virtue. "Cassandra!" I shouted. "Come on over here and let me have the news.
     She bounded up to me exuberantly. "Nebraska is 11th, and at Minnesota. Arkansas is 10th and at Mississippi and Clemson is 9th, hosting North Carolina."
     "Good to hear that the Huskers are still making the cut," I said. "Walk with me."
We started heading toward Preacherman's store-front church. He was already out, trying to save what few souls were venturing near.
     As we walked Cassandra leaned into me, "Oklahoma State is 8th and at Missouri, could be interesting. Oregon is at Colorado, won't be interesting, and Wisconsin is at Michigan State, in the most interesting game of the week. Mystery Date is on our trail."
     "I know," I said, suppressing a smile. "He's performing exactly according to plan. I don't know if I want Sparty to give Wisky a good game, or get their asses handed to them like we got ours."
     We passed by Preach, who was in full-on lather. The Spirit was definitely moving him, today.
As we turned the corner Cassandra said, "My Cardinal is number 5 and at Washington, which should be good for a half. Until my boyfriend gets tired of toying with the Huskies. Oklahoma is 4th, and hosting Texas Tech. That should give a good picture of relative strengths in the Big 12."
     Mystery Date got stopped by Preacherman as we turned the corner.
"Brother! I can see that you are perturbed by a malevolent spirit," Preacherman shouted as he placed one hand on Mystery Date's chest and the other on his back. "I can feel the demonic influence of Satan's pit troubling your heart. Give yourself to me and the spirit of JE-sus, will set you free."
He started moving Mystery Date around in a slow spin, disorienting him and adding another layer of confusion. As he spun Mystery Date, he deftly lifted the wallet.
     Mystery Date looked nervous and irritated, but Preach continued with his act. He clapped his hands over Mystery Date's eyes and shouted into his face. "Unclean spirit, be GONE! By the power of JE-sus Christ I command you to be GONE! Foul fiend let this poor man's soul FREE!" He slipped the wallet to the delivery boy.
     Cassandra and I were in the back room of the church. One of Preach's delivery boys came in, handed me the wallet. I pulled out a driver's license and a credit card. Cassandra took a couple of quick snaps with her Nikon. I slipped two twenties and an "Our Lady" business card in and handed the wallet back to the kid. Elapsed time, 25 seconds.
     We sat down to wait for the second act to play out and checked out or info.
     "Alabama is 3rd, and hosts Tennessee. LSU is hosting Auburn, who is starting a new quarterback, might be worth checking out," Cassandra said, ever the multi-tasker.
     Out on the street, Mystery Date had finally broken free from Preacherman, his soul no longer weighed down by a demon. He made it to the corner, looked all over for Cassandra and I. He couldn't see us. He spun around, trying to pick up our trail, gave up in frustration and started trudging back to his car when he noticed his wallet was missing. Our delivery boy had been watching for the visual cue and started calling out to him, "Mister! Hey mister! Sir, I think you dropped this" holding out the wallet as he approached.
     "Um, thanks," Mystery Date said, as he stuffed the wallet back into his pocket.
     "I don't mean to be rude, sir. But in this neighborhood, if someone does something nice for you, you do something nice, back." The kid was awesome, staring right at Mystery Date, almost daring him to stiff him.
     Mystery Date assessed the situation and came to the right decision. He pulled the wallet out, opened it, and pulled one of the twenties out. He had a look on his face like he had forgotten his own phone number. His hand shook as he handed the Jackson to the kid.
     "Thanks, mister," he said as he bolted down the street.
     Mystery Date pulled the "Our Lady" card out. He wasn't a complete moron, he started to put the pieces together. He'd been had, but it was already too late.
"Boise State is still number one, and has an easy home game with Air Force," Cassandra said as we looked at the digital camera.
     "Mmm-hmm," I said, slightly disrtracted by our Mystery Dates's name. "Alan Davison. North Carolina driver's license and look at this. Employee id card and access pass for a major air-line. "That explains the bus-driver gear."
     "We should set up a meeting," Cassandra said.
     "He will. The number on the card is a phone at 'Our Lady' that rings through to my crackberry. Give him about two hours and let's take Preacherman to lunch."
     Things were beginning to get interesting.

Bye-bye, bye week

     The bye week is over, the Huskers moved up in the polls, and the crew went 11-2 for the week. Poor Lloyd is really taking a beating, he is responsible for the 2 losses and Grandma keeps calling his iphone and recommending hobbies that he might like to pursue instead of picking college football games; like scrap-booking, or performance art, or English Premier League soccer.

     Get a couple of celebratory drinks in Grandma and she just gets mean.
     Lloyd and I went to see the Preacherman, in order to ask a favor, and to start getting amped up for the second half of the season, which rolls out with a game at Minnesota. More Husker fans will travel in order to go to the Mall of America than will actually attend the game with the Golden Rodents, but the Minneapolis Chamber of Commerce thanks you, anyway.
     We needed to find out about our mystery date, who was proving to be amusingly persistent. It was obvious he wasn't a pro, and seemed to be working alone. If another investigator wanted to have a chat, professional courtesy demands a meeting at a neutral site, with seconds, and plenty of drinks. Try to make these informal chats last at least an hour. Lawyers aren't the only ones that use "Billable Hours".
     We met Preacherman outside his store-front church. I  made an offering to the "Shining Path Foundation" can on the card table outside his door and wondered if he knew the Shining Path was a Peruvian Maoist guerrilla army. I doubted it, and I doubted if most of the donors knew it either. I also wondered if the Shining Path would ever do anything about Preacherman scamming in their name, but I doubted if they would ever find out.
     "Good morning, Preach," I called out to him. "I come to ask a favor of you and your...network."
     "I don't know how good of a morning it is, if you're turning up asking favors," he relied with a big smile on his face but not in his voice.
     "Oh, come on. We're not in competition, and I showed you remarkable hospitality the last time we hung out."
     "True." His civility was returning a bit.
     "I'm only asking for a favor. Not making a demand, and not asking you to do anything that would raise your profile any. Plus, it's a classic."
     Preacherman sat down heavily on his camp stool. "Go on."
     Lloyd produced a picture of our mystery date and showed it to Preacherman.
     This is the guy. We need to know who he is, but I don't want to go all Olivia Newton-John on him.
Preacherman looked confused.
     "Physical," Lloyd piped in.
     "Just how do you want to do it?" Preach asked.
     "Spiritual healing. Casting out of demons, and such."
     "I haven't done that one in a looooong time."
     "I know. Time to dust it off. Plus I'm going to play upon good old human greed to get him into the next phase, and I need one of your delivery boys to make the drop."
     "What's in it for me?"
     Ahh, he's hooked, I just need to reel him in. "Preach. Buddy. I asked for a favor. You don't have to do anything. I can do this on my own, but it would be a lot less fun, and a lot less interesting. Just be ready for some demon casting tomorrow afternoon."
     "Mmm-hmm. and what do I do when the fuzz shows up?"
     "No cops, man. Mystery Date will have his property returned to him before the paperwork gets filed. That's why we need a delivery boy. Pick one who looks the most innocent, he's going to be a special envoy. It'll be cool. I'll make it worth his while."
Preacherman sat and thought about it. I stood with my hands in my pockets, waiting for the inevitable yes. Lloyd checked his iphone.
     "OK," Preacherman said. "I'll do it, but if one cop shows up at my door, we're done."
     "No worries and understood. Tomorrow, just after lunch. I'll call before we head over. Look for Cassandra and I. Mystery Date will be following along, I'm sure."
     "Tomorrow. The power of Christ will compel the evil spirits to vacate his weak, frail shell of a human for the glory of God in the name of Jesus Christ!"
     "Amen," Lloyd said, not looking up from his phone.
I nodded. "Save it for tomorrow, Preach."
     As Lloyd and I walked back to the car, Lloyd asked for clarification. "Just what are we doing?"
     "Cassandra and I will troll Mystery Date past Preacherman's church. Preach will launch into his spiel about healing the spirit and all, and while he is 'laying on hands' he will lift mystery dates wallet. One of his delivery boys will take it inside. Photograph the id with a digital camera, add a couple twenties  and a business card for 'Our Lady' and head out the back."
     "Why won't he notice his wallet missing?"
     "Cassandra and I will zip around the corner and into the back door once Preacherman starts his schtick. Mystery Date will get agitated and push past to get around the corner and will then realize he lost us. He'll get mad, start thinking about his next move, and will habitually check for his wallet. He'll notice it's gone, assume that he got ripped off, rightly so, and head back to confront Preacherman."
     "Go on," Lloyd said, starting to see it all come together.
     "He'll lay into Preacherman, threaten to call the cops, and have a tizzy, when a kid comes up to him holding his wallet, saying 'Excuse me sir, you dropped this.' When Mystery Date snaps open the wallet to check it's contents, he'll see that A. Nothing is missing, and B. There is more money. And C a Business card. He'll be hooked, taken in by the money, he'll know we're onto him and his curiosity will have him calling the number on the card."
     "So we'll be rewarding him?"
     "Not at all. We'll have his i.d., and the initiative. We'll be on top. Get in," I said, pointing to the car.
     "I want tacos," Lloyd said.
     Tacos sounded good.
Husk-husk and on the QB.

Week seven picks from the crew

     It was time for our weekly conference call and suggestions for what to do with our inept tail.

     I placed the call to Leroix Ney, down in Red Stick, to get his take on the ranked games in his neck of the woods, which is pretty much the old Confereracy, plus a bit here and there.

      "Good Morning, LeRoix," I called out. "How are things down in the swamps?"

       "Dey's fine, Cher," he replied in his usual Cajun patois. "Ah s'pose y'alls wantin' me to ac-chally put some effort into pickin' dese games?"

        "It would be nice."

         "Dey goan take about as much effort as tossin' a marshmallow to a gatah," he chuckled. "Clemson gots tah go up nort', again, and play Mary-land. As long as Tajh Boyd's hip holds out, Clemson should have no prawblem.  Dey's goin' up a Mary-land team dat lost to Temple. Ah's goan wit' deh Tigres L'Orange, 38-17."

          "How about 'Bama," I asked.

           "SEC Players love goin' to play Mississippi, dat way dey get to say dey got to go to Oxford. Deh Tide is goan flow all over dem poor Rebs. It ain't even goan be close. 'Bama should make it about 63-3."

           "We're finally at the game you really want to talk about, Leroix, go for it."

           I could hear the pfft-pop, of Leroix drag from his hand-rolled cigarette. "Les Tigres have to go up to Tennessee. Deh wust part of deh trip is havin' to look at all dat ugly-ass orange. Dey look lahk old Bronco jerseys dat got left out in deh sun too long. Deh Volunteers play lahk dey been out in deh sun too long. Dis'll be a tougher game dan dey had las' week, but Les Tigres should romp all deh way home. LSU 31-13."

           "Thanks, Leroix." I placed a call to Bubba Tataglia, my contact down in Oke City, in order to get his take on all things in the Big 12 and Texas. "How's things down Oklahoma way."

           "We got two games that are fixin' to light up the scoreboard so fast the ESPN score alert may shut down from overload. The Cow Rapers of Okie Lite have to go to Austin, enjoy the music, make stops at those awesome food trucks and still score more often than a drunk girl at a frat party. I saw one writer point out the fact that Texas is 8-0 in games after losing to Oklahoma, and then he picked OSU. What the Hell is the point of that stat? Anyhoo, Okie State feels like they gotta score more than the 55 that OU dropped on the Longshoremen. They will, they may give up four or five TD's, but they will get into the 60's. OSU 63-28."

           "Tell me about your Sooners, Bubba."

           "Same issue, different team. OSU dropped 70 on Kansas. OU feels like they got to exceed that. We'll see if poll position matters more to Stoops than developing players. My bet is on Stoops playing poll position. Sooners 77-10."

           "Yo, Marcus, what's happening, out west?" I asked.

           "Dude, we've got two easy picks and one interesting game. Boise State gets another tune up game with Colorado State. That should be a 45-14 blue blowout for the Buncos. Stanford has to go to Pullman and play an improved but still weak Wazzu team. Luck should fill up a highlight reel.  The California School of Public Policy and Football Relations 38, Cougs 17, dude."

           "Tell me about the interesting game."

           "Dude, Oregon hosts Arizona State. LaMichael James hurt his elbow last week, and may not be 100%. That might make a bit of a difference. Since the game is in Eugene, I think the Quackers will still pull through. This might be one of the few games Oregon has to play that will be a one-possession win. I'm picking The Quackers 35-28, dude."

           I had to place a call to Grandma Gunn, who has been following the B1G for years, especially since the center of the football universe ran through the Ohio Valley. "How's it going, Grandma?" I asked.

           "Pretty good, deary," she cackled drily. "Purdue gets to go play victim at my old Boyfriends' Happy Valley Mansion. Penn State may not be flashy, but they get the job done, 24-10 over the Boilmakers. Indiana has to go to Madison. Poor Hosers got 83 dropped on them last year. I think Bielma will want to get some kids who never play into the game, you know, fourth and fifth stringers. That will keep it closer to 70-7. Finally, THE Ohio State has to go to Champagne, if that weren't bad enough, they have to go with  a sore Miller at qb, and it looks like Bauserman has lost his back-up job. With Terrell Pryor, they would have had a chance. Illinois has been winning close games. Ohio State looked like they gelled on offense with Miller running the show. I'll do it. I'm going out on a limb and calling for the Buckeyes to upset the Illness, 27-24."

           "Interesting call, Grandma. Let's move on over to Lloyd for his two picks."

           Lloyd Ellroy, looked up from his iphone. "I have two games this week, both of which will go a long way to figuring out the LegendS division.  Northwestern has to go to Iowa. I don't have a firm fix on either team, but the Purple Pussies have had the Hackneys number for the past couple of years. If Persa can get rolling, Northwestern wins this. It will be a close one, 38-35 Pussies. The Big game of the week is Michigan at Michigan State. This is a case of offense strength for Michigan versus defense strength of Sparty. The key to this game is the common opponent. Michigan beat Notre Dame, who owned Michigan State. Give a nudge to Sparty for playing at home, and for winning the last three in a row, but I think Shoelace gives Wolverhampton the overall edge. 24-21 Wolverhampton."

           That summed up the picks for the week. The Huskers are off and Lloyd and I need to talk to Preacherman. We have a cunning plan to develop that will uncover who our mystery date is.

           Husk-husk and on the QB.

Cutting down the contenders.

     Cassandra and I had agreed to meet at the zoo. With the Huskers having a week off to prepare for Minnesota...ahem, we were going to have ample opportunity to sting our mystery guest and get Lloyd a little something for being such a good sport for the last two weeks.
     "I'm going to cut a team out of the countdown every week as the season winds down," Cassandra said. "You're still good, this week, since I have Nebraska at number 12 They pulled their balls out of the fire last week, and have no way of losing this week, so they get to sit on the bubble."
     I winced more than a little bit at her metaphor. "So who do you have next?" I asked, watching the Humboldt penguins swim around, chasing fish-guts and other indistinguishable bits of flotsam.
     "Michigan. The biggest obstacle between the Huskers and a re-match with the Stinking Badgers. This week's game will tell me a lot. They have to go to Michigan State. The winner gets a leg up on the LegendS division, which makes both contests for Nebraska do-or-die for the division games."
     "Who do you have next?" I asked, finally seeing our fun boy, trying to blend in. Hard to do when your standing amidst toddlers and goats.
     "Arkansas is 10th, and idle. Clemson is 9th, at Maryland. As long as Boyd's hip holds out, they have an outside shot at the Big One. Georgia Tech is their only other real challenge. Okie Lite is 8th and at Texas. They need to drop a half-a-hunnert on the Longhorns to keep the media convinced they are a good as OU. The OSU offense is better, but the D..." she trailed off.
     Our companion either didn't mind being seen, or had never tried to follow anyone before. We did a quick trip through the aviary, and went back inside as he was coming out. It was not time to confront him, yet, but one piece of advice if you are following somebody, you don't have to do it step for step.
     "Keep 'em coming," I told Cassandra as we fed the camels, dromedaries, that is, they only had one hump.
     "Oregon is 7th, and has a kind of a big game with Arizona State. They are looking more like themselves ever since that LSU loss. Fast, ugly, but fast. Wisconsin is 6th in my book. You don't get bonus spots for being idle. They host Indiana this week and are essentially on cruise control until the Illinois game. Stanford is 5th, and has the bad luck of going to Pullman. They'll win, no problem, but have you ever been to Pullman?" she asked, her expression an odd mixture of disgust and pity.
     "I caught Metallica there, once," I said. "Luckily it was at night, and there were lots of college girls there..."
     A short shot to the shoulder brought me back. Cassandra's jab stings. "That's how it's going to feel when Luck gets drafted by somebody other than your Seahawks," she jibed.
     When we got to the paper eating lion, Leo, we were getting right down to it. "Oklahoma is 4th, handles Texas with ease, and only has to stay healthy while waiting for Okie Lite, they are at Kansas this week. Alabama is number 3, another easy win at Mississippi and their showdown with LSU is going to be huge."
     We waited for the train outside the zoo and discussed the final two teams. "LSU is number two and may have the best defense in the country. They are at Tennessee this week, and both Alabama and LSU get a week off to prepare for each other."
     "Let's pull a French Connection," I said to Cassandra. We got on the train at the very last car. It has open seating, so you can see everyone else who's riding. Our buddy got on the train about halfway up. The conductor cried "All aboard" and started making the safety announcements. The train started to move on it's two-lap circuit of the zoo. "Now!" I shouted to Cassandra just before we passed the platform. We hooped off the train and left the station to the admonishing stares of the conductor and the frustrated scowl of our new best friend.
     "You know," I said as we made our way back to the car. "Every time you name Boise State number one, it makes Lloyd cry."
     "He'll get over it," she said dismissively. "But I don't know if OU will get over getting locked out of the National Championship as the Buncos play the winner of the Alabama-LSU game."
Thank goodness the BCS will likely prevent that nightmare scenario...or will it?

THE Ohio State, and THE greatest comeback in Husker history

     I am really glad I got to watch this game after I heard the outcome. I fully expected OSU's offense to be a vulgar display of weakness. Boy was I wrong. The Buckeyes made the Blackshirts look silly for a lot of the first half, but I got a strange sense that it was a few big plays that kept them in it, like Nebraska in the Big 12 championship against Oklahoma, last year. The d-backs were almost covering too well. On more than a few plays, Braxton Miller, OSU's freshman quarterback, would drop back to pass, find nothing, and then take off. The line couldn't contain him. I do have to give credit to OSU's o-line, they picked up the stunts and curls that Carl threw at them very well. Even when Carl did dial up a blitz, it seemed to blow up in the Blackshirts' faces. When the score ballooned to a 27-6 OSU advantage, Huskerfan was probably thinking about just how much rye can one down in order to erase the last two games from one's memory. No they weren't. They were thinking "Taylor sucks, the Pelini's suck, Beck sucks, the line sucks, the weather even sucks".
     With all that sucking going on, the vampiric drain of energy and the essence of life itself from 85,000 people, in the staduium, and countless viewers enduring Matt Millen on TV, the Huskers rose from the dead. Linebacker LaVonte David, who should be charged with larceny for the way he snatched the ball from Miller, single-handedly stole the ball, the momentum, and the game from Braxton Miller and OSU. The Field Turf deserves to be credited with a huge assist.The turf came up big. It reminded me of the time when Oklahoma quarterback Jason White got bit by the turf in 2001. Miller's foot planted wrong, the turf refused to yield, and Sean Fisher, all 6'6" of him clebrated an awesome sack. Then Miller didn't get up. He grabbed his ankle. He was probably groaning to go with his writhing. The game changed.
     OSU's back-up came in. He looked like the only eligible receivers he could see we in rows 3-7. That's fine. If Braxton had stayed in the game, who knows how it would have turned out. I don't want to hear any boo-hoo-hooing from OSU fans, either. There have been more than a few occaisions where the Huskers starting qb has gone down, or been out for a few games, even in really big games, and the opposing fans just shrug and say, "Meh. That's football." I couldn't agree more.
     Lloyd wants to give Taylor a big hug. That kid responded. Pushed up to the wall by the fans, nit-picked by the media, and challenged by the coaches, he came up huge. Taylor, if I run into you on the street, I will buy you a drink, probably vodka. One bad pass out of 22. A couple that were iffy, and this from a guy who last week was enjoying the view from under the Greyhound for not being able to read defenses (he improved this week); for not being able to check down to the outlet receiver (which he did beautifully this week); for being "bitchy" with the media (I think he forgot that he has to play nice with the fish-wrappers as they enjoy the free food at the media center); and for being one step away from being yanked (according to the Trolls).
     The Boo-birds even came out in the first half. Old man time, 1997, Central Florida in town, Boo-birds cascading their territory calls at Scott Frost. Frost comes back in 2nd half, leads team to win, and on the way to National Championship.
     There have been a lot of questions about Taylor's leadership. I'm not entirely sure how to quntify it, but if pats on the ass and helmet slaps are any indicators, then Taylor's back is covered by his team-mates. On a play late in the game, Taylor got face-masked as he was going down. He was pissed, and so was Kenny Bell, the freshman wide-out, who jumped into to confront the offender. Then 'Yoshi' stepped in to pull his quarterback up and separate him from the official, who was a bit slow to yank out the hankie. As they walked back to the huddle, one could sense the comraderie, the 'Band of Brothers' mentality that has bonded this team over the last week. I have no doubt that if Taylor has taken any English 300-level Shakesepeare courses, the 'One more into the breach' speech from Henry V resonates in him. If he hasn't, I'll send him a copy.
     One other guy who deserves all the praise he's getting this week is Rex Burkhead. There's a reason I call him I-Backasaurus Rex. He runs the ball like a therapod chasing down dinner. He can catch, he can bloack and he gives his all on every single play. On his final touchdown, that gave Nebraska the lead for good, the cameras showed him on the side-line as the officials reviwed the play to see if it was going to stand. When the final determination was made, Rex made his way to the bench as the pad slaps and ass pats cascaded over him. He sat down, looked exhausted, but you just knew that if coach asked him to go out and play defense, he would have done that, too.
     A week off, and then Minnesota, how much has this team learned? How far has it progressed? Is this the start of a run through the rest of conference play that will hit its peak in the Big House in Ann Arbor, or is this just a taste of every single game being a test for old tickers everywhere?