Elite Eight

     I was crashed out in the office, listening to Muddy Waters and contemplating just how far I would end up having to help Lt. Moore. Muddy sang about 'Iodine in My Coffee'. While Mr. Waters' song was about a woman who had done him wrong, the taste in my mouth following the Northwestern game fit Muddy's description quite well.
     Effie let Cassandra in. She didn't even knock, it's not like she ever does. "He's been like this all day," Effie said, sounding like an indulgent school nurse who knew that my tummy-ache had more to do with failing a test than anything biological.
     Cassandra came over and stood over me. Her hands were on her hips and she didn't look too happy. "Come on, Sparky. We need to get you up and about, time's a wastin'," she cajoled with all the enthusiasm of a jaded cheerleader who has seen the quarterback roughed up once too often.
     "Deep down, I know I've got to get it in gear," I said. "I know that the B1G championship is still attainable, but this loss really kicked me in the teeth. I mean, we got beat...by the smart kids...in football."
     "Watch that 'Smart Kids' crap. As a Stanford grad I take personal exception to that remark," she harumphed as she brought the coffee maker to life."
     "Duly noted," I said as I sat up. "Hit me with your latest. There had to be an adjustment after this weekend."
     "Oh, yes, indeed there was," she said as the coffee maker chuckled away, throatily. "I have Oklahoma at eighth. They are among the best one-loss teams but are seriously dinged up. If Huskerfan can take anything away from the Northwestern loss, its that it can happen to the best of them. OU crapped themselves, at home to Texas Tech, and has bounced back to dominate. Just keep that in mind."
     "Fine, fine," I said. "It's not the end of the world, but it still bites."
     "Mmm-hmm. Arkansas is seventh, and plays Tennessee, not much of a threat, but it is the SEC and the piggies handled South Carolina pretty well, last week."
     "Who do you have at number six?"
     "Oregon," she said, a cloud descending over her features. "The quackers have to go down to Palo Alto and play my boyfriend and the other 'Smart Kids' at Stanford."
     I offered my hand up in surrender.
     "I want to be objective about this, but it's tough, with Stanford being my number four team, undefeated, my boyfriend looking like his old self and with the game at home. What it comes down to is the Future Captains of politics and industry taking on the Future Cell-mates of D-Block."
     "Yep, you're staying objective, all right. Who's number five?"
     "Alabama," she said as she filled up my Husker coffee mug with some fresh Sumatra. "They are a decent kicker away from being a dominant team, just as long as they don't have to play LSU, again. They also have a game against Mississippi State in which to unleash the beast."
     "Hit me with number three." The coffee went down good, and warmed me up from the inside out.
     "Oklahoma State. They have the offense to out-score anybody, but their defense is still suspect. They've got Texas Tech and could be in a prime position to play for the National Championship if they win out. Only Oklahoma really stands in the way."
     I nodded at this, and knew what was coming, next. "You've got LSU at number two, still?"
     "Yes. They will be in the Championship game as long as they don't slip up. They have Western Kentucky, this week, so I don't think that will be an issue. Maybe in a couple of weeks, when they play Arkansas."
     "You still have Boise State at number one?" I shook my head.
     "Indeed I do, and this week is where they cross the last test off their list. TCU rolls into town, and all evidence points to a rout by the Buncos. Last year would have been fun, but they are on different levels. BSU should go undefeated and get a shot at LSU. TCU needs a win at Boise in order to claim a good season."
     "There we have it," I said. "Hand me my coat, I need to go do some work. At least before Lt. Moore and Sergeants Hands and Stache come a'knockin."
     "That's more like it," Cassandra said, a big smile lighting up her face.
     From the main office, I heard Effie say, "Hey, you can't go in there!"
     The door to my office whipped open. Lt. Moore stood silhouetted in the doorway.
     Husk-husk and on the qb.