We couldn't get away for the game. The whole Lt. Moore thing had us pretty much tethered to town. I was bummed, but it would have been tough to get tickets, anyway, I don't have the contacts in the D-Town area like I do in the major metros of the Big 12. Did I just say major metros and Big 12 in the same sentence? Wow, talk about a shift in perspective.
Additionally, Cassandra had called to say that she had a lead, but it would take some time to sort out. She said she didn't want to overplay her hand, so to wait for her while she tidied things up.
Lloyd was looking distraught. It was almost as if he couldn't get any bars on any of his devices. "What's your deal," I asked him, not exactly pleasantly.
"This game. There are so many elements to it that don't play to the Huskers' advantage, that it makes me nervous, jumpy even," he almost twitched out the last sentence.
"Break it down for me. We've got nothing to do but chill while we find out why Cassandra wanted us here."
"Shoelaces."
"Shoelaces?" I repeated, wondering if he had finally gone off the deep end."
"Dennard Robinson. Shoelaces is his nickname, he never ties them in the game. Anyway, he is the kind of mobile quarterback that Nebraska tends to have a hard time containing."
"I get that, but how's his passing?" I asked. "It's not just the mobile quarterbacks, it's mobile quarterbacks who can throw well."
"That's his big flaw," Lloyd conceded. "It's almost like we'll have to dare him to throw the ball, in order to take away his big play ability. He can go yard at any time."
"Who has beaten Michigan, this year?"
"Michigan State handled them, and Iowa, but both were on the road, and Michigan beat Northwestern."
"I'm not too worried about playing in the Big House," I said. "Nebraska has got a good road warrior mentality, and they got a nice rehearsal last week, dealing with a huge crowd in a much crazier situation."
"Michigan's defense allows fewer than sixteen points a game. They are not the inept defense that we've seen over the past three years."
"That's a padded stat," I said, dismissively. "They gave up 20+ points to four teams, only one of which is currently ranked. Most of their low-scoring points allowed games cam against lesser quality opponents. There are two directional Michigan schools and San Diego State in there. They gave up 31 to Notre Dame, and quality opponents have been able to score on them."
"So I guess I'm worried about nothing, huh?"
"Not at all. Be worried, but I think that Martinez has developed enough into a versatile quarterback that defenses have to respect his passing. It's almost to the point where defenses can't just load up the box to stop the run, and challenging him to throw it. If the receivers had avoided the dropsies, Martinez would have even better numbers."
"How are the Blackshirts going to stop Robinson?"
"If Carl is smart, and I'm pretty sure he is, he'll look at how Michigan State did it, and how Iowa did it. Michigan State got a huge assist from the wind, which Robinson can't throw in, and I hear it is windy in Ann Arbor. One other thing, Robinson's wrist is hurt, I'm willing to bet that they don't risk further injury with a lot of designed runs for him. The Blackshirts need to seize control of the ground game and stop Toussaint, who has gouged opponents over the last three weeks. Hmm, sounds like we heard the same thing about Silas Redd, last week."
"Trench warfare, again?" Lloyd asked expectantly.
"Yep, the fuglies on both sides of the ball win this one. Maybe with an assist from Maher on tilting the field position with his punting."
"Ok, let's have it. What do you think the final score will be, because despite your attempts at re-assuring me, I'm thinking Michigan will win it, 27-24."
"I think this is going to be another 'build up the lead and hold on' game," I said. Maybe kind of tight at the half, 17-7, a couple of scores after the break, Michigan pulls Robinson, and they make it interesting in the fourth quarter. Nebraska 27-21 over Wolverhampton."
Lloyd was at least attempting to relax.
Cassandra came hustling into the room. "I found her!"
"Who?"
"The model for the doll that got sent to Lt. Moore."
"Well, template more than model. She had no idea about the doll, or that Moore is trying to cover his ass."
"How do you know it was her?"
"I tailed Moore and his cronies one night. As he made his rounds, he stopped to 'chat' with this girl. She looked like the doll. After they left I asked her if she'd like to get out from under his thumb. I told her we could pull it off. She's way out on a limb, here."
"Ok, I get it. But what's the connection."
"You'll love this. She told me she had this weird John take her to a nice hotel. He dressed her in clothes like the ones on the doll, and took a bunch of pictures."
"Not too weird, considering her line of work," Lloyd chimed in.
"That's not the weird part. The weird part is that he didn't even want sex, and after about an hour he broke down in tears, sobbing about how no-one called him on 9/11, even though he was a pilot, and that he had insight, and on and on."
Goody, I thought. Mr. Davison is back. He's really starting to irritate me, getting me mixed up with Lt. Moore.
"Anybody up for a double reversal take-down?" I asked.
Lloyd and Cassandra's hands both shot up.
Husk-husk and on the qb.
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