From the files of Lloyd.
18 Oct., 2014
Chicago, IL
The Kirkwood Bar.
There is a really cool bar, in North Chicago. They proudly display their Husker pride with flags, drink specials, and lots of fans. If you're in the area, stay in Chicago to watch the game. Evanston is a nice, quaint little town, grafted onto the north end of a major metropolis like an experiment gone awry. Snooty, smarty pants, rich kids go to Northwestern, surrounded by a town that that prides itself on its blue collar history and attitude. Chicagoans feel that Northwestern doesn't quite fit in, doesn't quite make the cut. Northwestern has soft hands from counting money all its life.
Except when it comes to football. NU is way better than Illinois. Northern Illinois has had some recent success, but the bandwagoners are far too obvious. So, for a few months each year, Chicago puts aside its issues with the smart kids, the tax-free status of lakefront property, and enjoys some decent football.
Northwestern looks at Chicago like the dude trying desperately to fit in. He's trying, but a clip-on tie and short-sleeved button-down shirt does not belie sophistication and urbanity.
1800
The game is about to start. It has been a long day of waiting. I got to the bar when it opened in order to get a good seat. I've been pacing myself and I have a deal with Jenny, the waitress, that she will stand guard over my table when I have to go pee. She indulges me. The extra dollar I give her whenever she brings my drink is a small inducement, but inducement, nonetheless.
1835
Kickoff, finally. Ryan field is about half-red. The other half is purple, so it looks like some old ladies' book club gathering, but not as loud.
Huskers get the ball first. Northwestern loads the box to stop Ameer, just like MSU. Tommy connects with Kenny a couple of times. Drive sputters, a couple of drops kills it. Foltz puts the punt inside the 20. Lets see what the defense can do.
I'm starting to think we need to make a deal with opposing teams. We spot you seven points and in return we get the ball twice and run 3:00 off the clock. Had them on their initial third down. Missed a tackle, leaky yards. Northwestern has a freshman, Justin Jackson, that will be awesome in a couple of years. He's good, now, but bulk him up a little bit and get him some experience and he will be a threat. The Wildcats go 89 yards in 15 plays, converting twice on 3rd down.
Huskers get the ball back. Ameer is still struggling to get going. Wet grass, that may have been left to get a bit longer seems to be bothering Nebraska more than Northwestern. Decent drive, 8 plays, 47 yards, but Kenny whiffed on a third down pass. Field goal has the distance but is wide. Still 7-0 and game is beginning to feel like MSU part deux.
After an exchange of 3 & Outs, Northwestern almost seized control of the game. Husker pressure forced Siemien out of the pocket, he tried to slide under Zaire. Zaire lowered his head. No flag. Next play, make-up call. Nathan Gerry gets flag for a ticky-tack unnecessary roughness call. It wouldn't have drawn a flag if Northwestern had man-sized receivers. Northwestern goes for the kill. Deep throw into triple coverage, Gerry comes up with the pick in the end zone. Crisis averted. The offense needs to find a spark.
Local boy, Jordan Westerkamp, sparks the drive, 23 yard reception. Ameer gets going. A penalty helps, Tommy takes it down to the one. Ameer surges in. After the kick. New game, please.
The punters duel for the next four possessions. Huskers keep getting the ball in good field position, but cant do anything. Wildcats get the ball in bad field position and ipso-ipso.
Justin Jackson goes off. Wildcats do everything right. Jackson has runs of 11, 11, 12 and 5 yards. The 5-yarder goes into the endzone with a spin move that MItchell is still trying to figure out. NU up 14-7. Just over two minutes left in the half.
De'Mornay Pierson-El goes to Texas. Tommy throws to P-El for 46 yards. Then Tommy throws to Ameer for 11. On first down, Tommy gets the 'Texas' call. Tommy hands to Newby, who sweeps left while P-El, reverses right. Newby pitches to P-El. P-El lofts a floater to a wide open Tommy, who catches it, and dances into the end zone. 14-up. New game, again.
Northwestern isn't quite finished, yet. Passes and penalties bring the Cats inside the 20. The defense makes a stand, forces a field goal. Wildcats up 17-14 as capering Pat Fitzgerald cheerleads his team into the locker room.
The murmuring. The hushed tones. Funerary atmosphere. 'We've always been a second half team'. 'I hope the coaches can adjust'. 'After a bye week. Really?' 'Didn't we used to blow teams like this out?'
Patience, Huskerfan, patience. Old Man Lloyd, here has seen a lot of Husker ball games. He can cite numerous examples of a first half not quite living to expectations. Halftime is when the coaches do adjust and have done so. The other team adjusts, too, though. A team 'like this'. What does that even mean? If we're talking Northwestern circa 1983, when the students had a cheer that went, 'that's all right, that's ok, you will work for us one day,' every time the opposition scored, then yes. This Northwestern isn't that Northwestern, and hasn't been for about 20 years. The Northwestern coach, Pat Fitzgerald, played in a Rose Bowl, while at Northwestern. We're 2-1 against them since joining the B1G. All three of those games coming down to the last minute. They're a good opponent, don't kid yourself.
18 Oct. 2014
2045
The second half gets going.
The defense finds its groove. More pressure. Better pursuit. Justin Jackson not finding as much room. Wildcats go 3 & Out. Nebraska moves. Tommy throws a near pick that the DB drops. Instead Huskers get to punt. Cats still lead 17-14. Time is slipping away.
Another 3 & Out for the D. Tommy gets it going. 55 yard drive on eleven plays. Three third down conversions, all with Tommy in the mix. Two passes on third and long and a run to pick up the first down when no-one was open. Ameer punches it in from the one. Huskers lead for the first time 21-17. Ryan field gets a bit quieter. History has shown that it is far from over. We should have a wild finish.
The Wildcats try to respond. They get a first down and get to midfield before the door gets slammed, again. Another punt, the third of the quarter, sets up the final act.
Moral crusher. Back breaker. Life stealer. 77 yards in seven plays will do that. The big one has Ameer breaking free for a 50-yard run. He punches it in on the next play. The Wildcat defense has been unhinged, worn down, eroded. it is now 28-17, in the fourth. Northwestern must respond or it is over.
They don't. Another 3 & Out and The Huskers get the ball back before the Wildcat defense has a chance to catch it's breath. It shows. Nebraska goes old school. Nine plays, 55 yards. All on the ground. Tommy leaping from the five and getting the ball across the plane. The refs disagree. They want to see Ameer score his fourth TD, instead. 35-17. It is done, but time remains.
Another 3 & O for the Cats. A punt and P-El returns it to the 19. A less than stellar drive results in a field goal. Huskers up 38-17.
The clock winds down in garbage time. Nebraska gets backups in. Pat Fitzgerald looks sad. Ryan field is half empty. The half full crowd is chanting 'Go Big Red' over and over. A tough win and a good win for Nebraska. The bad taste of the MSU loss kind of wiped away. 6-1, now.
Looking ahead, Nebraska has to play Rutgers, Purdue, Wisconsin, Minnesota and Iowa. None of them a particularly scary. None are exactly pushovers, either. All are winnable. Wisconsin has the best threat in Melvin Gordon, but Northwestern held them to 14 points. Minnesota is on a roll, but they have to come to Lincoln and won a squeaker with Purdue. The stage is set for a re-match with MSU, so I have to go for Sparta to win out, too.
Time to melt into the night before things start to freeze.
Showing posts with label FearAmeer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label FearAmeer. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
MIchigan State, part 1 (of 2?)
From the Files of Lloyd.
4 Oct. 2014
Hyped for this one. This is the biggest game of the year. Win this one, and Nebraska can stake a claim for the top 10. Win this one, and maybe some of those voices about 'mediocrity' and 'lack talent' and 'average' shut the hell up.
The weather is not conducive. It is raining with a howling wind. Cross-fire hurricane. Cold, but not too cold, just cold enough to be another distraction for a team trying to find itself. One team knows what it is. There are cool trophies that there are color pictures of. OK, that's not fair. One team has pictures of trophies that they didn't have to send off to the Foto-Hut to develop.
I'm sitting in a 'Blues' bar in East Lansing. I have no idea why they call themselves a blues bar. There aren't even pictures on the wall of any of the biggies. No Muddy, no Lightning, no Blind Lemon, no Mr. Wolf. The game is on, but on a screen mounted above the bar. I'm trying to watch but some shit-ass cover band called Avon Bomb is on stage, torturing animals. Not accurate. Torturing the fools who came in here expecting a good live act.
Two guys and two girls who just refuse to give up that dream of pop stardom. You just keep reaching, kids. Kids? All four are pushing 40 and denial in a death grip around the throat. Keep playing. Keep singing. Maybe an A&R man will just happen to be in Lansing on a bet or a dare. Yes, the Love Shack is where it's at. Do what you did to 'Shook Me All Night Long' to 'Jumpin' Jack Flash' you'll have a gas-gas-gas all over your ass-ass-ass.
Anyway, the sound track enhances my overall disposition toward barely controlled homicidal rage. Brilliant start to the game. RG4 snags a tipped ball for an INT. Then bupkus. The wind howling into Drews face is enough to make Bo think twice. Punt instead of FG attempt. Um, ok. Gain what, 15 yards of field position with the wind at their backs. OK. That's why your pulling down the 7-figures. Next possession. Defense holds, forces a punt. Very well. What the Fuck call of the night #1. Pierson-El is back to receive the punt. It's coming in hot, P-El is calling off the dogs. Peterpeterpeter, waving his arms in front of him. The ball bounces, seeks love and affection from P-El, nestles into his arms like a forever home. P-El starts to run, he has a lane, if he lights the jets, he will run so fast into the wind, he will achieve lift.
Whistle whistle whistle. Ref: We thought he was calling for a fair catch. Really? Then where's the flag. It is a penalty to signal a fair catch and then run with it. Quite unsportsman-like. Don't worry MSU, the offense has your back. We'll only move the ball a little bit, and then commit a stupid penalty. We're young. We're raw, this is only our 50th game since middle school.
Spartans treating Ameer like Xerxes.
Then the little niggly-ass nit-noy little things that decide games kicks in. Starting corner, Daniel Davie, gets hurt. These things happen. Sparty has a smart coaching staff. Sparty smells blood. Sparty calls a 'go' route right at the newbie who is in for his first play. He has probably heard the coaches tell him, 'they will test you' and 'be ready'. He probably heard them, he probably even listened and comprehended the sage advice of his leaders. It didn't help. Cook throws one of his satellite-guided small-diameter bombs over the top and it's big play city. 7-0 Sparta.
The Huskers get the ball back. Ameer still being treated like Xerxes. Huskers attack the perimeter. Husker move well. Good drive going. Hey, lets use play-action to keep Sparty honest. Good idea. Let's have Tommy throw a deep sideline pattern into the wind. Are we sure about this? What could go wrong? Tommy throws a pick. Not so terribly surprised.
Connor Cook, the Sparty QB, needs to pretend that every down is third down. Most of the night, he looks terrible, but on 3rd down, he channels Joe Montana. He's probably got better arm strength than Montana. Time and again he hits tough passes on third down. The defense is there, but Cook keeps hitting.
Big plays are the difference. Sparty gets a 30-yrd touchdown run. The only decent run of the night. Ameer is stymied. A cool pass to Ameer out of the diamond formation nets 12 yards. Only time we see the diamond all night. Tommy is harassed by the Sparty D, every time he drops back, the Sparty D-ends are on him. One kid, appropriately named Rush beats both Sterrup and Lewis like cheap, garage sale drums. The wind is nullifying his passing game. Then when it cant seem to get any worse, the center, the coach's nephew, decides that his climb from the depths of walk-on drudgery to starting center, must not have any more rungs on the ladder. He's missing line-calls, he's snapping before Tommy is ready, he's falling victim to alleged shenanigans of Sparty clapping to induce movement before the snap. On a night where the entire o-line looked like death on a hot day, Marky-P stood out. Not in a good way.
At the half, Sparta leads 17-0. Opportunities squandered, Ameer checked, Tommy looking wild-eyed, Kenny on the sideline after crushing his nuts. Second half should be better, right? Right?
Defense plays ok, then gives up a big play. The big one in the third is a touchdown on a double reverse that is executed perfectly by Sparta. Textbook. Almost military drill precision.
Weird play #2 happens in the third. Tommy drops back, Tommy gets hit while throwing. Ball hits the ground, Smart Spartan scoops it and starts to run. Whistle whistle whistle. Play is dead. Incomplete. Let's review, shall, we, lads. Conference. Upon further review, our bad, actually a fumble, MSU ball. What fresh hell is this? Defense stands, forces a field goal.
Huskers get a field goal to preserve their dignity and hide their shame. 27-3 at the end of three. Stadium starts emptying out. There is hot food, burning booze and scorching women, elsewhere.
Fourth quarter. Gut-check time. Tommy the gunslinger steps out. Tommy throws it all over. Life appears. Tommy gets it close. Ameer goes in for the score. Marky P screws up the snap on the 2-PAT. 27-9 less disgusting. Defense holds. P-El almost breaks one. Huskers drive. Tommy gets hurt. Ryker Fife, the walk-on from G.I. gets some time. He fires high, adrenaline. Gets close, again, Ameer, again. Failed 2-PAT, again. 27-15. Is there hope? Yes, there, is. Remaining crowd begins to murmur.
Huskers kick. Sparty has about four minutes to kill. Huskers have three time outs. Sparty runs and Bo stops clock three times. Sparty has to punt. The punt to P-El. P-El makes a man miss. P-El finds a lane. P-El kicks in the afterburner, torches the punter. Kick the PAT. 27-22, time for the onside kick.
Sparty covers the kick. Sparty tries to kill clock. On third down, Sparty runs out of bounds. Bad move. Field goal attempt wouldn't quite put the game out of reach, but would make it tougher. Field goal is up, field goal goes clang-clang-clang off the upright. Still 27-22 with enough time to complete the most epic comeback in Husker history. Tommy starts big. Hits Alonzo Moore down the sideline. Big gain. Huskerfan is up and psyched. Sparta is nervous. Oh, no, not again nervous. Tommy throws a pass that should have been a pick, but somehow gets through to Westerkamp. Under a minute. Husker ball at the Sparty 36. Tommy drops back. Tommy heaves it. He's got a receiver in the end zone. Zo, again. Zo has it. Zo goes to the ground. Zo is sliding on his back. Zo must maintain control through the completion of the action. Don't we all? Zo can't. Ball pops out. So close, Zo.
Still time. Get a little closer, spike it. Three beats to the end-zone bar and let fortune decide your fate. Tommy drops back. Receivers get tangled up on a crossing pattern. It's a timing play and the timing is off. Tommy throws one final pick.
Sparta is relieved. They get to return with their shields. Huskers defeated, but not beaten. The thoughts of could-haves and should haves as numerous as the raindrops that keep coming down.
Re-match in December, indoors, at a neutral site, bitches.
4 Oct. 2014
Hyped for this one. This is the biggest game of the year. Win this one, and Nebraska can stake a claim for the top 10. Win this one, and maybe some of those voices about 'mediocrity' and 'lack talent' and 'average' shut the hell up.
The weather is not conducive. It is raining with a howling wind. Cross-fire hurricane. Cold, but not too cold, just cold enough to be another distraction for a team trying to find itself. One team knows what it is. There are cool trophies that there are color pictures of. OK, that's not fair. One team has pictures of trophies that they didn't have to send off to the Foto-Hut to develop.
I'm sitting in a 'Blues' bar in East Lansing. I have no idea why they call themselves a blues bar. There aren't even pictures on the wall of any of the biggies. No Muddy, no Lightning, no Blind Lemon, no Mr. Wolf. The game is on, but on a screen mounted above the bar. I'm trying to watch but some shit-ass cover band called Avon Bomb is on stage, torturing animals. Not accurate. Torturing the fools who came in here expecting a good live act.
Two guys and two girls who just refuse to give up that dream of pop stardom. You just keep reaching, kids. Kids? All four are pushing 40 and denial in a death grip around the throat. Keep playing. Keep singing. Maybe an A&R man will just happen to be in Lansing on a bet or a dare. Yes, the Love Shack is where it's at. Do what you did to 'Shook Me All Night Long' to 'Jumpin' Jack Flash' you'll have a gas-gas-gas all over your ass-ass-ass.
Anyway, the sound track enhances my overall disposition toward barely controlled homicidal rage. Brilliant start to the game. RG4 snags a tipped ball for an INT. Then bupkus. The wind howling into Drews face is enough to make Bo think twice. Punt instead of FG attempt. Um, ok. Gain what, 15 yards of field position with the wind at their backs. OK. That's why your pulling down the 7-figures. Next possession. Defense holds, forces a punt. Very well. What the Fuck call of the night #1. Pierson-El is back to receive the punt. It's coming in hot, P-El is calling off the dogs. Peterpeterpeter, waving his arms in front of him. The ball bounces, seeks love and affection from P-El, nestles into his arms like a forever home. P-El starts to run, he has a lane, if he lights the jets, he will run so fast into the wind, he will achieve lift.
Whistle whistle whistle. Ref: We thought he was calling for a fair catch. Really? Then where's the flag. It is a penalty to signal a fair catch and then run with it. Quite unsportsman-like. Don't worry MSU, the offense has your back. We'll only move the ball a little bit, and then commit a stupid penalty. We're young. We're raw, this is only our 50th game since middle school.
Spartans treating Ameer like Xerxes.
Then the little niggly-ass nit-noy little things that decide games kicks in. Starting corner, Daniel Davie, gets hurt. These things happen. Sparty has a smart coaching staff. Sparty smells blood. Sparty calls a 'go' route right at the newbie who is in for his first play. He has probably heard the coaches tell him, 'they will test you' and 'be ready'. He probably heard them, he probably even listened and comprehended the sage advice of his leaders. It didn't help. Cook throws one of his satellite-guided small-diameter bombs over the top and it's big play city. 7-0 Sparta.
The Huskers get the ball back. Ameer still being treated like Xerxes. Huskers attack the perimeter. Husker move well. Good drive going. Hey, lets use play-action to keep Sparty honest. Good idea. Let's have Tommy throw a deep sideline pattern into the wind. Are we sure about this? What could go wrong? Tommy throws a pick. Not so terribly surprised.
Connor Cook, the Sparty QB, needs to pretend that every down is third down. Most of the night, he looks terrible, but on 3rd down, he channels Joe Montana. He's probably got better arm strength than Montana. Time and again he hits tough passes on third down. The defense is there, but Cook keeps hitting.
Big plays are the difference. Sparty gets a 30-yrd touchdown run. The only decent run of the night. Ameer is stymied. A cool pass to Ameer out of the diamond formation nets 12 yards. Only time we see the diamond all night. Tommy is harassed by the Sparty D, every time he drops back, the Sparty D-ends are on him. One kid, appropriately named Rush beats both Sterrup and Lewis like cheap, garage sale drums. The wind is nullifying his passing game. Then when it cant seem to get any worse, the center, the coach's nephew, decides that his climb from the depths of walk-on drudgery to starting center, must not have any more rungs on the ladder. He's missing line-calls, he's snapping before Tommy is ready, he's falling victim to alleged shenanigans of Sparty clapping to induce movement before the snap. On a night where the entire o-line looked like death on a hot day, Marky-P stood out. Not in a good way.
At the half, Sparta leads 17-0. Opportunities squandered, Ameer checked, Tommy looking wild-eyed, Kenny on the sideline after crushing his nuts. Second half should be better, right? Right?
Defense plays ok, then gives up a big play. The big one in the third is a touchdown on a double reverse that is executed perfectly by Sparta. Textbook. Almost military drill precision.
Weird play #2 happens in the third. Tommy drops back, Tommy gets hit while throwing. Ball hits the ground, Smart Spartan scoops it and starts to run. Whistle whistle whistle. Play is dead. Incomplete. Let's review, shall, we, lads. Conference. Upon further review, our bad, actually a fumble, MSU ball. What fresh hell is this? Defense stands, forces a field goal.
Huskers get a field goal to preserve their dignity and hide their shame. 27-3 at the end of three. Stadium starts emptying out. There is hot food, burning booze and scorching women, elsewhere.
Fourth quarter. Gut-check time. Tommy the gunslinger steps out. Tommy throws it all over. Life appears. Tommy gets it close. Ameer goes in for the score. Marky P screws up the snap on the 2-PAT. 27-9 less disgusting. Defense holds. P-El almost breaks one. Huskers drive. Tommy gets hurt. Ryker Fife, the walk-on from G.I. gets some time. He fires high, adrenaline. Gets close, again, Ameer, again. Failed 2-PAT, again. 27-15. Is there hope? Yes, there, is. Remaining crowd begins to murmur.
Huskers kick. Sparty has about four minutes to kill. Huskers have three time outs. Sparty runs and Bo stops clock three times. Sparty has to punt. The punt to P-El. P-El makes a man miss. P-El finds a lane. P-El kicks in the afterburner, torches the punter. Kick the PAT. 27-22, time for the onside kick.
Sparty covers the kick. Sparty tries to kill clock. On third down, Sparty runs out of bounds. Bad move. Field goal attempt wouldn't quite put the game out of reach, but would make it tougher. Field goal is up, field goal goes clang-clang-clang off the upright. Still 27-22 with enough time to complete the most epic comeback in Husker history. Tommy starts big. Hits Alonzo Moore down the sideline. Big gain. Huskerfan is up and psyched. Sparta is nervous. Oh, no, not again nervous. Tommy throws a pass that should have been a pick, but somehow gets through to Westerkamp. Under a minute. Husker ball at the Sparty 36. Tommy drops back. Tommy heaves it. He's got a receiver in the end zone. Zo, again. Zo has it. Zo goes to the ground. Zo is sliding on his back. Zo must maintain control through the completion of the action. Don't we all? Zo can't. Ball pops out. So close, Zo.
Still time. Get a little closer, spike it. Three beats to the end-zone bar and let fortune decide your fate. Tommy drops back. Receivers get tangled up on a crossing pattern. It's a timing play and the timing is off. Tommy throws one final pick.
Sparta is relieved. They get to return with their shields. Huskers defeated, but not beaten. The thoughts of could-haves and should haves as numerous as the raindrops that keep coming down.
Re-match in December, indoors, at a neutral site, bitches.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Nebraska 45, Illinois 14
From the files of Lloyd.
Game five. Illinois (IL) at Nebraska (NE).
27 Sep. 2014 0636
The talk all week has been a litany of otherwise in-tuned and dialed-in Huskerfan imitating Admiral Ackbar, 'It's a Trap!' Theory: It's just to give the peeps something to jaw about in order to bleed off the impending Michigan State excitement. No one wants to say it, but this game is just a glorified practice. McNeese State be damned.
27 Sep 2014 1458
The pre-gaming is more sedate than last wee. The booze is flowing and the hot, young, girlies are still trying their best to look like some sort of football-themed hookers. One I saw had a too-small t-shirt that looked like it read, 'Hus ers', but the rip down the middle, revealing an embarrassing amount of decollatage. Her too-tight jean shorts and too-tall heels completed the look. A look that said, 'name your price' way before it said Go Big Red.
Not that the lads were much better. Too many douchey hats and douchey sunglasses hung jauntily behind the head. Douchey flip-flops with basketball shorts. Almost preferable to desperately hanging on to youth guy in his replica jersey that fit really well when he was in college. Add 20 years and 40 pounds, the 11 on the chest looks like an 0, straining to complete itself.
27 Sep. 2014 1814
Trying to get into the mood. Just can't. Not sure what the deal is. Maybe it's the foregone conclusion nature of this game, in my mind. I do want to see how it unfolds, but it almost feels like I know how the movie ends, the book's final chapter. Maybe I'm getting too old to be wandering around through the pre-game masses. The mass among the masses. Extreme unction for the visitors granted before the last breath has left. The Host consumed by the hosts in the weekly ritual. The Host being brats and burgers. Drink of my blood, for it has ethyl alcohol. Community communion.
27 Sep. 2014 2006
Finally. The wait for this kickoff has been a grind. I dig that it's prime-time, but it's not, really. It's only on the BTN and even then, most of the country is getting other games. Who are we kidding? Most of the country really doesn't care about this game. Maybe a few Heisman voters want to peep in and see how FearAmeer does, but beyond that, this is really a private grudge match between a fan base that I smelling a return to glory and a fan base that is smelling the same old unwashed socks.
27 Sep. 2014 2147
First half is done. FearAmeer is a force to fear. 21 carries, almost 200 yards. The line is just destroying their assignments. If you thought what they did to Miami was impressive, what they did to (IL) was text-book. Chapter 1, 'How to Run-block'. Every time Ameer touches the ball, it seems like he could break it. FearAmeer opens the scoring. Weapons of environmental lethality launched. After one quarter, 127 yards rushing. Leave him in for the whole game, and he'll finish with 500+. Tommy had a rough start, 0-2 and a pick is not how you want to get things going. The pick was a bad one, too. Tommy was rolling right, keeping his eyes downfield, so far, so good, pursuit getting to him, sideline approaching, Tommy stops, plants, throws back across his body, and into a stiff wind. Linebacker picks it off. Tommy still suffers from tunnel vision, at times. He still blocks out defenders from his vision. The Illini continued the tradition of visitors scoring on their opening drive. 41-yard burst right up the gut. MIKE got lost. Cooper got juked. IL makes it 7-7. After Tommy's pick, IL moved right on down the field, again, the D finally holds inside the 10, and snatches a pick back. Huskers drive, again, but Imani Cross fumbles at the end of a play. I say he got face-masked, but what I say doesn't matter. End of one, score is 7-7. Huskers not quite hitting on all cylinders. Illini gaming it, letting it all hang out.
Second quarter. Boom. Illinois ran 15 plays. One was a big pass for a touchdown. Other than that, IL gains 23 yards on 14 plays. Boom number one, FearAmeer from 8 yards out. 14-7, NE. IL throws another pick, which sets up boom number two. FearAmeer from 2 yards out, 21-7 NE. A 3&O sets up Boom number three. 63 yards strike to Kenny, a thing of beauty. First and 10 from their own 37. Tommy fakes the handoff, sets up in the pocket, waits, waits, waits, pressure coming, uncork that big right arm. It looks too long. Wait. What? A quarterback can overthrow a receiver. Yes. but not this time. Right on the numbers. Afrothunder80 for the TD. Message to IL, we can hit this any time we want. 28-7, NE. IL hits their big play, making it 28-14, and Husker fan is still nervous. A made field goal and a missed field goal that had the range but not the accuracy, closes the book on the first half. 31-14. IL wants to go home. Bo won't let them.
27 Sep. 2014 2349
The second half, becomes a battle against topor on offense. Ameer got his 200 and is sitting. Imani plays most of the second half. Imani is a good back. Imani is bigger. Imani is no Ameer. yet. The defense is keeping things fresh, though. Playing with seven defensive backs in 'Dollar" set. It's fun. Illini QB, O'Toole cant solve it. O'Toole tries to read it, but it's like Sanskrit. O'Toole scrambles, O'Toole meets RG4 a couple times. Illini shut out for the second half. Defense figuring it out? For all the fear and loathing of an 'average' defense, they have only given up 8 touchdowns when a game was still in doubt.
Somehow, the fourth quarter is slightly more interesting. Get to see guys that you've never heard of. Ryker Fife getting some experience. Jordy Nelson trying to show why he deserves to move from 4th to 3rd on the depth chart. The defense rolling over the Illini offense like a Labrador that found a dead squirrel in the back yard. Just to finish things, and to prevent another garbage touchdown in the final minute. Pooch turns the dogs loose. Zaire blasts O'Toole on the final play. Game over.
28 Sep 2014 0013
The walk home is soothing. 5-0 soothing. I don't want to think about the 300. Nebraska still won't get any love. Doesn't really deserve any until after Thermopylae, anyway. Just a hunch, but I think that this might just be the first half of a double-header. The sound of 6-0 is almost enough to make one giddy.
Game five. Illinois (IL) at Nebraska (NE).
27 Sep. 2014 0636
The talk all week has been a litany of otherwise in-tuned and dialed-in Huskerfan imitating Admiral Ackbar, 'It's a Trap!' Theory: It's just to give the peeps something to jaw about in order to bleed off the impending Michigan State excitement. No one wants to say it, but this game is just a glorified practice. McNeese State be damned.
27 Sep 2014 1458
The pre-gaming is more sedate than last wee. The booze is flowing and the hot, young, girlies are still trying their best to look like some sort of football-themed hookers. One I saw had a too-small t-shirt that looked like it read, 'Hus ers', but the rip down the middle, revealing an embarrassing amount of decollatage. Her too-tight jean shorts and too-tall heels completed the look. A look that said, 'name your price' way before it said Go Big Red.
Not that the lads were much better. Too many douchey hats and douchey sunglasses hung jauntily behind the head. Douchey flip-flops with basketball shorts. Almost preferable to desperately hanging on to youth guy in his replica jersey that fit really well when he was in college. Add 20 years and 40 pounds, the 11 on the chest looks like an 0, straining to complete itself.
27 Sep. 2014 1814
Trying to get into the mood. Just can't. Not sure what the deal is. Maybe it's the foregone conclusion nature of this game, in my mind. I do want to see how it unfolds, but it almost feels like I know how the movie ends, the book's final chapter. Maybe I'm getting too old to be wandering around through the pre-game masses. The mass among the masses. Extreme unction for the visitors granted before the last breath has left. The Host consumed by the hosts in the weekly ritual. The Host being brats and burgers. Drink of my blood, for it has ethyl alcohol. Community communion.
27 Sep. 2014 2006
Finally. The wait for this kickoff has been a grind. I dig that it's prime-time, but it's not, really. It's only on the BTN and even then, most of the country is getting other games. Who are we kidding? Most of the country really doesn't care about this game. Maybe a few Heisman voters want to peep in and see how FearAmeer does, but beyond that, this is really a private grudge match between a fan base that I smelling a return to glory and a fan base that is smelling the same old unwashed socks.
27 Sep. 2014 2147
First half is done. FearAmeer is a force to fear. 21 carries, almost 200 yards. The line is just destroying their assignments. If you thought what they did to Miami was impressive, what they did to (IL) was text-book. Chapter 1, 'How to Run-block'. Every time Ameer touches the ball, it seems like he could break it. FearAmeer opens the scoring. Weapons of environmental lethality launched. After one quarter, 127 yards rushing. Leave him in for the whole game, and he'll finish with 500+. Tommy had a rough start, 0-2 and a pick is not how you want to get things going. The pick was a bad one, too. Tommy was rolling right, keeping his eyes downfield, so far, so good, pursuit getting to him, sideline approaching, Tommy stops, plants, throws back across his body, and into a stiff wind. Linebacker picks it off. Tommy still suffers from tunnel vision, at times. He still blocks out defenders from his vision. The Illini continued the tradition of visitors scoring on their opening drive. 41-yard burst right up the gut. MIKE got lost. Cooper got juked. IL makes it 7-7. After Tommy's pick, IL moved right on down the field, again, the D finally holds inside the 10, and snatches a pick back. Huskers drive, again, but Imani Cross fumbles at the end of a play. I say he got face-masked, but what I say doesn't matter. End of one, score is 7-7. Huskers not quite hitting on all cylinders. Illini gaming it, letting it all hang out.
Second quarter. Boom. Illinois ran 15 plays. One was a big pass for a touchdown. Other than that, IL gains 23 yards on 14 plays. Boom number one, FearAmeer from 8 yards out. 14-7, NE. IL throws another pick, which sets up boom number two. FearAmeer from 2 yards out, 21-7 NE. A 3&O sets up Boom number three. 63 yards strike to Kenny, a thing of beauty. First and 10 from their own 37. Tommy fakes the handoff, sets up in the pocket, waits, waits, waits, pressure coming, uncork that big right arm. It looks too long. Wait. What? A quarterback can overthrow a receiver. Yes. but not this time. Right on the numbers. Afrothunder80 for the TD. Message to IL, we can hit this any time we want. 28-7, NE. IL hits their big play, making it 28-14, and Husker fan is still nervous. A made field goal and a missed field goal that had the range but not the accuracy, closes the book on the first half. 31-14. IL wants to go home. Bo won't let them.
27 Sep. 2014 2349
The second half, becomes a battle against topor on offense. Ameer got his 200 and is sitting. Imani plays most of the second half. Imani is a good back. Imani is bigger. Imani is no Ameer. yet. The defense is keeping things fresh, though. Playing with seven defensive backs in 'Dollar" set. It's fun. Illini QB, O'Toole cant solve it. O'Toole tries to read it, but it's like Sanskrit. O'Toole scrambles, O'Toole meets RG4 a couple times. Illini shut out for the second half. Defense figuring it out? For all the fear and loathing of an 'average' defense, they have only given up 8 touchdowns when a game was still in doubt.
Somehow, the fourth quarter is slightly more interesting. Get to see guys that you've never heard of. Ryker Fife getting some experience. Jordy Nelson trying to show why he deserves to move from 4th to 3rd on the depth chart. The defense rolling over the Illini offense like a Labrador that found a dead squirrel in the back yard. Just to finish things, and to prevent another garbage touchdown in the final minute. Pooch turns the dogs loose. Zaire blasts O'Toole on the final play. Game over.
28 Sep 2014 0013
The walk home is soothing. 5-0 soothing. I don't want to think about the 300. Nebraska still won't get any love. Doesn't really deserve any until after Thermopylae, anyway. Just a hunch, but I think that this might just be the first half of a double-header. The sound of 6-0 is almost enough to make one giddy.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Stuck and Bring on the Illini
I was beginning to get a little bit down on the prospects for the case. I could see why the initial investigation had gone exactly nowhere. I was leaning heavily toward the theory that Jamie had just pulled a runner. She was an adult. Maybe she had just gotten fed up with whatever it was that people get fed up with and decided to ditch it all.
The husband and the boyfriend elements were plausible enough pressure points. Hubby was ignoring her, and maybe boyfriend was coming on too strong. Maybe he was pushing for more commitment to him. Maybe he was making the demand for her to get off the fence and go all in with him. That would mean breaking up the happy home and still having to chance running into ex-hubby all the time. There would also be the element of trading down. Would she be willing to trade down to junior level cop income, instead of rising star real estate rainmanker?
That could make someone bolt.
It seemed that Ricky-boy held out hope. He had never gotten the marriage annulled or filed for divorce in absentia. Maybe there was a reason for that. I had to make a mental note to dig deeper on that trench.
The big, man, gorilla in the room was, of course, Detective Jim Tompkins. His role in this affair, ha, made it delicate work and tantalizing, as well. I was pretty sure he wasn't trying to find her just to re-kindle some puppy-love romance from back in the day. That would not sit well with Mrs. Jimbo, and would not look particularly good if he decided to make chief, someday. Average Joes and Janes tend to want their top cop to be a paragon of virtue. Ha, again.
The fact that he dropped this in my lap, also meant that he really didn't know her whereabouts, and didn't make her disappear. He might have contributed to the getaway fund, knowingly or unknowingly, but I was betting heavily against his being an accomplice. His actions during the investigation negated that theory.
What about the old mentor-detective? He was still alive. Maybe I could get something out of him. His name was in the files along with those of the three other girlfriends that still lived here. The leads were narrowing and I was getting ready to drop the whole thing back into Jimbo's lap. But the niggling nagging voices just wouldn't let it go. This one was too interesting, too many almost there elements that kept dodging away, like the images in dreams that slip out right after you wake up.
Maybe I needed a falafel, or a taco.
Maybe I needed to stop worrying so much about the why. Get down an examine just the what. People do weird shit all the time that they can't explain. Usually nothing this big. Usually it's why did I put my car keys in the fridge? Why did I leave the milk on the counter? Why did I decide, that one time, to give that complete stranger a lift?
I hadn't completely ruled out the stranger danger theory, either. There was a possibility that she met up with a Bad Man, who took her and wouldn't let her go. There were biker gangs that had been known to snatch women and trade them like currency. I didn't have any real evidence to suggest that, it was just a possibility.
I decided on falafel.
I ducked into a place, downtown, that has been there, forever. Awesome food and pretty cheap, too. Lloyd was there, collating and analyzing. I sat down with him.
"Is all this work, or hobby related?" I asked as I plopped my styrofoam plate onto the table.
"A little from column A and a little from column B," he replied without looking up. "In the reports, did you see where Jamie's car was found?" he asked, mildly accusatory.
"Yeah, it was right where her friends said they dropped her off at the end of the night."
"Yes, but where, exactly, was that? Think now."
I tried to recall the files. I remembered that it was outside, at a metered spot, which was free after 6 p.m. "The friends said that she parked there because she got lucky since it was only a block away from the bar they were going to start at."
"Well done," Lloyd said, glibly. "It was also right across the street from what prominent transportation node?"
I pulled the map up in my head. There weren't any transportation nodes, in that part of town. Then it hit me. At the time of the disappearance, the bus station was right across the street. "The bus station. Damn it. Why didn't I think of that. It's where the Embassy Suites is, now, right?"
Lloyd just nodded.
"I could see that," I said. "Get in the car, start digging through the purse, wait for the girlfriends to skedaddle, pop the trunk, grab a bag and be on the next bus out of town. I think you're on to something."
Another nod. "Not that you care, and not that it is all that important, but Nebraska is going to crush Illinois."
Sudden change of subject. How very like Lloyd. "Why do you think it will be a crushing?" I asked, almost out of obligation.
"Their run defense is awful and Nebraska's strength is the rushing attack. Not just better, but dominant. I'd be willing to wager that three Huskers will finish the day with 100+ yards rushing."
"Okey, sounds good. What about this being a trap game? A big, emotional win over Miami. last week, and a HUGE game with Sparty, next week, and don't forget the near melt-down against McNeese State."
Lloyd scoffed. "That's the kind of crap radio hosts come up with to keep people listening for a week. Let's make it all we're so weak, we are vulnerable, this bad thing might happen, blah blah blah."
"So, you're not at all concerned?"
"Not in the least. We still won't get much national credit, but the important thing will be that Nebraska will be 5-0 heading into East Lansing and what will be the biggest test, and biggest game of the year, to this point."
"All right, then," I said. "What is your prediction for the final score?"
"Nebraska 59, Illinois 17. Ameer runs for about 150, Tommy 125, Cross 110."
I finished my falafel and decided to track down bus route records.
The husband and the boyfriend elements were plausible enough pressure points. Hubby was ignoring her, and maybe boyfriend was coming on too strong. Maybe he was pushing for more commitment to him. Maybe he was making the demand for her to get off the fence and go all in with him. That would mean breaking up the happy home and still having to chance running into ex-hubby all the time. There would also be the element of trading down. Would she be willing to trade down to junior level cop income, instead of rising star real estate rainmanker?
That could make someone bolt.
It seemed that Ricky-boy held out hope. He had never gotten the marriage annulled or filed for divorce in absentia. Maybe there was a reason for that. I had to make a mental note to dig deeper on that trench.
The big, man, gorilla in the room was, of course, Detective Jim Tompkins. His role in this affair, ha, made it delicate work and tantalizing, as well. I was pretty sure he wasn't trying to find her just to re-kindle some puppy-love romance from back in the day. That would not sit well with Mrs. Jimbo, and would not look particularly good if he decided to make chief, someday. Average Joes and Janes tend to want their top cop to be a paragon of virtue. Ha, again.
The fact that he dropped this in my lap, also meant that he really didn't know her whereabouts, and didn't make her disappear. He might have contributed to the getaway fund, knowingly or unknowingly, but I was betting heavily against his being an accomplice. His actions during the investigation negated that theory.
What about the old mentor-detective? He was still alive. Maybe I could get something out of him. His name was in the files along with those of the three other girlfriends that still lived here. The leads were narrowing and I was getting ready to drop the whole thing back into Jimbo's lap. But the niggling nagging voices just wouldn't let it go. This one was too interesting, too many almost there elements that kept dodging away, like the images in dreams that slip out right after you wake up.
Maybe I needed a falafel, or a taco.
Maybe I needed to stop worrying so much about the why. Get down an examine just the what. People do weird shit all the time that they can't explain. Usually nothing this big. Usually it's why did I put my car keys in the fridge? Why did I leave the milk on the counter? Why did I decide, that one time, to give that complete stranger a lift?
I hadn't completely ruled out the stranger danger theory, either. There was a possibility that she met up with a Bad Man, who took her and wouldn't let her go. There were biker gangs that had been known to snatch women and trade them like currency. I didn't have any real evidence to suggest that, it was just a possibility.
I decided on falafel.
I ducked into a place, downtown, that has been there, forever. Awesome food and pretty cheap, too. Lloyd was there, collating and analyzing. I sat down with him.
"Is all this work, or hobby related?" I asked as I plopped my styrofoam plate onto the table.
"A little from column A and a little from column B," he replied without looking up. "In the reports, did you see where Jamie's car was found?" he asked, mildly accusatory.
"Yeah, it was right where her friends said they dropped her off at the end of the night."
"Yes, but where, exactly, was that? Think now."
I tried to recall the files. I remembered that it was outside, at a metered spot, which was free after 6 p.m. "The friends said that she parked there because she got lucky since it was only a block away from the bar they were going to start at."
"Well done," Lloyd said, glibly. "It was also right across the street from what prominent transportation node?"
I pulled the map up in my head. There weren't any transportation nodes, in that part of town. Then it hit me. At the time of the disappearance, the bus station was right across the street. "The bus station. Damn it. Why didn't I think of that. It's where the Embassy Suites is, now, right?"
Lloyd just nodded.
"I could see that," I said. "Get in the car, start digging through the purse, wait for the girlfriends to skedaddle, pop the trunk, grab a bag and be on the next bus out of town. I think you're on to something."
Another nod. "Not that you care, and not that it is all that important, but Nebraska is going to crush Illinois."
Sudden change of subject. How very like Lloyd. "Why do you think it will be a crushing?" I asked, almost out of obligation.
"Their run defense is awful and Nebraska's strength is the rushing attack. Not just better, but dominant. I'd be willing to wager that three Huskers will finish the day with 100+ yards rushing."
"Okey, sounds good. What about this being a trap game? A big, emotional win over Miami. last week, and a HUGE game with Sparty, next week, and don't forget the near melt-down against McNeese State."
Lloyd scoffed. "That's the kind of crap radio hosts come up with to keep people listening for a week. Let's make it all we're so weak, we are vulnerable, this bad thing might happen, blah blah blah."
"So, you're not at all concerned?"
"Not in the least. We still won't get much national credit, but the important thing will be that Nebraska will be 5-0 heading into East Lansing and what will be the biggest test, and biggest game of the year, to this point."
"All right, then," I said. "What is your prediction for the final score?"
"Nebraska 59, Illinois 17. Ameer runs for about 150, Tommy 125, Cross 110."
I finished my falafel and decided to track down bus route records.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Nebraska 41, Miami 31
From the files of Lloyd.
Game four. Miami, (Fla.) (MiaF) at Nebraska (NE).
20 Sep. 2014 0535
Huskerfan is jacked. Jacked, man. The Hurricanes blew into town with all their brashness and bravado and bullshit. These cats are not the cats of yesteryear. It's not Michael Irvin and Warren Sapp and Vinny Testaverde. These are not the dudes you grew up hating because not only did they act like assholes on the field, they had the audacity to back their shit up with their play. No, these weren't the fearsome tigers of the 80s and 90s; these guys were more like bocats or lynx, still dangerous, but not nearly as much as their progenitors.
I hate discussing games as duels between opposing players of the same position. It doesn't matter if Brad Kaaya will play Better than Tommy Armstrong. It makes no difference if Duke Johnson outduels Ameer Abdullah (as if). The matchups are how Kaaya will handle the noise of the 91,000 people baying for his blood How will Ameer keep moving the chains against a fast, athletic defense?
Those are the kinds of things I seek answers to. Those are the things I hope to gain insight to.
20 Sep. 2014 1347
The crowd downtown is well on their way. The red beer (tomato juice and beer) is flowing in quantities that remind one of a slaughterhouse. Middle aged-moms and pops are tippling their wines. The young and single are tossing brewskies as they flirt and mingle. Hot girls in next to nothing are tossing back shots and petitioning the Lord with prayers of 'Ohmigaw'. Fierce, young laddies are in pursuit, posing and displaying, crushing defenseless aluminum into lifeless, drained recyclable slag. At this rate, the crowd will be at full roar. Maybe volume setting 9. Not 12. Never 12. Seattle is 12 and the old gal on 10th street never gets to Seattle level.
20 Sep. 2014 1905
The was a near riot at the Indian Center. 3,000 drunk kids squared of with some tour buses. Cops got called. City cops, County cops, Statie cops. Inter-agency differences set aside in order to present united front and ride to the rescue. Crowd got restless, crowd got stupid. Too much booze? Ya think? One cop caught a can off her noggin, sent to the Krankenhaus. There's one dude looking at serious offense, Felony Assault on an Officer. Probably best throw of his life. Now he wants it back. Yes, drunken bacchanal at the Indian Center. Irony lost only on those there.
20 Sep. 2014 2014
First half is done. The NE o-line seems to be grind-grind-grinding the MiaF front into a fine powder. Not done yet, but they will break by the third. Ameer to the left, Ameer to the right, Ameer right up the gut, between the tackles. MiaF has no answer. They hit him high, he spins away, the hit him low and he balances for extra yards as he falls. He's smiling. He's feeling it. Ameer is crushing it. It didn't start out so comfortable. MiaF went right down the field to open the scoring. Three straight first downs. Yet another game of the defense looking at each other with 'whatthefuck' faces on the opening drive, again. NE answered. Lightning strike to AfroThunder from 40 yards out. MiaF stopped on an INT. Despite that, Kaaya looks poised. Things got sloppy after that. Both sides traded punts, and Tommy pulled a Taylor and fumbled on the run. MiaF moves at will, goes up by a touchdown. Ameer responds. Touchdown back. Huskers forced a 3&O. More Ameer. Have to settle for a field goal. Since MiaF scored last, Huskers outgained Canes 129-(-1). 25 plays to 3. TOP 12:43-1:109.
20 Sep. 2014 2238
The second half started where the first left off. More Ameer. The mere mention of Ameer has the MiaF d-line cringing. The NE o-line is looking magnificent, standing the tired 'Cane d-lineman up and driving them back. MiaF d-backs getting a workout making all the tackles. Long grinding drives traded. NE jumps out 24-14, about to put the dagger in, but Kaaya and company responds. Steals a march and is right back in it 24-21. Tommy and Ameer are driving back to push lead back out when Tommy throws a pick. Bad pick. Slap you in the helmet bad pick. Mighty Mouse saves the day. Crushes Hurricane hearts. Trevor Roach, filling in for scuffling Josh Banderas, forces the Duke to fumble. Josh Mitchell, all 5-9 and 175 pounds of him scoops and scores. Dagger in the heart.
Canes not quite done, yet. They have to throw, now. Kaaya throws a pick to Nathan Gerry, good return, flags fly. Canes throwning down, scuffle edging on ruckus brewing. Bullshit call on Valentine for roughing the passer. More bullshit as unsportsmanlike penalties offset. Bo turns red. Bo yells. Bo points for emphasis. Bo gets nowhere. Field goal traded for a field goal. 34-24, at this point. Must hold until relieved. Kalu gets a pick. Miami starts shit. Brawling and jawing near the sideline, 'there there there, boys' turns into 'get the fuck back to the sidelines'. Miami imploding, Hurricane force winds only coming from their mouths. The team is a summer breeze. Ameer from 10 yards out Head on a stake. Mount that bitch on the wall.
Game over. Late Miami score. Meaningless. Cosmetic. A slag in Maybelline is still a slag. MiaF is broken, defeated, but they won't shut up. Still talking trash. Husker doesn't know enough to point at the scoreboard and illuminate the Canes. Canes depart. Canes don't shake hands. Canes give crowd the finger. Crowd gives boos back. Crowd sings 'Na Na, hey hey, goodbye'. Crowd full of hatred. Crowd full of vindication. Huskerfan feels that this makes up for the failed two-point conversion when Reagan watched the Orange Bowl from 1600. It doesn't. It's just the next step to 4-0, which hasn't happened since 2011.
20 Sep 2014 2159
Streets are quieting. Bars are rocking. Lads and lasses calling plays, trying to score. Inside trap works well. Passing game needs work. Channel your inner Ameer, lads, and nothing can stop you.
Game four. Miami, (Fla.) (MiaF) at Nebraska (NE).
20 Sep. 2014 0535
Huskerfan is jacked. Jacked, man. The Hurricanes blew into town with all their brashness and bravado and bullshit. These cats are not the cats of yesteryear. It's not Michael Irvin and Warren Sapp and Vinny Testaverde. These are not the dudes you grew up hating because not only did they act like assholes on the field, they had the audacity to back their shit up with their play. No, these weren't the fearsome tigers of the 80s and 90s; these guys were more like bocats or lynx, still dangerous, but not nearly as much as their progenitors.
I hate discussing games as duels between opposing players of the same position. It doesn't matter if Brad Kaaya will play Better than Tommy Armstrong. It makes no difference if Duke Johnson outduels Ameer Abdullah (as if). The matchups are how Kaaya will handle the noise of the 91,000 people baying for his blood How will Ameer keep moving the chains against a fast, athletic defense?
Those are the kinds of things I seek answers to. Those are the things I hope to gain insight to.
20 Sep. 2014 1347
The crowd downtown is well on their way. The red beer (tomato juice and beer) is flowing in quantities that remind one of a slaughterhouse. Middle aged-moms and pops are tippling their wines. The young and single are tossing brewskies as they flirt and mingle. Hot girls in next to nothing are tossing back shots and petitioning the Lord with prayers of 'Ohmigaw'. Fierce, young laddies are in pursuit, posing and displaying, crushing defenseless aluminum into lifeless, drained recyclable slag. At this rate, the crowd will be at full roar. Maybe volume setting 9. Not 12. Never 12. Seattle is 12 and the old gal on 10th street never gets to Seattle level.
20 Sep. 2014 1905
The was a near riot at the Indian Center. 3,000 drunk kids squared of with some tour buses. Cops got called. City cops, County cops, Statie cops. Inter-agency differences set aside in order to present united front and ride to the rescue. Crowd got restless, crowd got stupid. Too much booze? Ya think? One cop caught a can off her noggin, sent to the Krankenhaus. There's one dude looking at serious offense, Felony Assault on an Officer. Probably best throw of his life. Now he wants it back. Yes, drunken bacchanal at the Indian Center. Irony lost only on those there.
20 Sep. 2014 2014
First half is done. The NE o-line seems to be grind-grind-grinding the MiaF front into a fine powder. Not done yet, but they will break by the third. Ameer to the left, Ameer to the right, Ameer right up the gut, between the tackles. MiaF has no answer. They hit him high, he spins away, the hit him low and he balances for extra yards as he falls. He's smiling. He's feeling it. Ameer is crushing it. It didn't start out so comfortable. MiaF went right down the field to open the scoring. Three straight first downs. Yet another game of the defense looking at each other with 'whatthefuck' faces on the opening drive, again. NE answered. Lightning strike to AfroThunder from 40 yards out. MiaF stopped on an INT. Despite that, Kaaya looks poised. Things got sloppy after that. Both sides traded punts, and Tommy pulled a Taylor and fumbled on the run. MiaF moves at will, goes up by a touchdown. Ameer responds. Touchdown back. Huskers forced a 3&O. More Ameer. Have to settle for a field goal. Since MiaF scored last, Huskers outgained Canes 129-(-1). 25 plays to 3. TOP 12:43-1:109.
20 Sep. 2014 2238
The second half started where the first left off. More Ameer. The mere mention of Ameer has the MiaF d-line cringing. The NE o-line is looking magnificent, standing the tired 'Cane d-lineman up and driving them back. MiaF d-backs getting a workout making all the tackles. Long grinding drives traded. NE jumps out 24-14, about to put the dagger in, but Kaaya and company responds. Steals a march and is right back in it 24-21. Tommy and Ameer are driving back to push lead back out when Tommy throws a pick. Bad pick. Slap you in the helmet bad pick. Mighty Mouse saves the day. Crushes Hurricane hearts. Trevor Roach, filling in for scuffling Josh Banderas, forces the Duke to fumble. Josh Mitchell, all 5-9 and 175 pounds of him scoops and scores. Dagger in the heart.
Canes not quite done, yet. They have to throw, now. Kaaya throws a pick to Nathan Gerry, good return, flags fly. Canes throwning down, scuffle edging on ruckus brewing. Bullshit call on Valentine for roughing the passer. More bullshit as unsportsmanlike penalties offset. Bo turns red. Bo yells. Bo points for emphasis. Bo gets nowhere. Field goal traded for a field goal. 34-24, at this point. Must hold until relieved. Kalu gets a pick. Miami starts shit. Brawling and jawing near the sideline, 'there there there, boys' turns into 'get the fuck back to the sidelines'. Miami imploding, Hurricane force winds only coming from their mouths. The team is a summer breeze. Ameer from 10 yards out Head on a stake. Mount that bitch on the wall.
Game over. Late Miami score. Meaningless. Cosmetic. A slag in Maybelline is still a slag. MiaF is broken, defeated, but they won't shut up. Still talking trash. Husker doesn't know enough to point at the scoreboard and illuminate the Canes. Canes depart. Canes don't shake hands. Canes give crowd the finger. Crowd gives boos back. Crowd sings 'Na Na, hey hey, goodbye'. Crowd full of hatred. Crowd full of vindication. Huskerfan feels that this makes up for the failed two-point conversion when Reagan watched the Orange Bowl from 1600. It doesn't. It's just the next step to 4-0, which hasn't happened since 2011.
20 Sep 2014 2159
Streets are quieting. Bars are rocking. Lads and lasses calling plays, trying to score. Inside trap works well. Passing game needs work. Channel your inner Ameer, lads, and nothing can stop you.
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