Post Northwestern

            I was sitting in my office, contemplating the nature of 'Hafgufa', or kraken, or octopuses. The sky was clear and the leaves, performing their annual death-march, were a riot of reds and browns , gradually giving up their holds and yielding to gravity's inevitable embrace.

            Hafgufa intruded into my thoughts as I gradually pieced together memories from my last couple of encounters with Mrs. DuMont. In addition to the 'morale, welfare, and recreation' division of the group, she had explained how their highly capable team of legal gunslingers was on call, at a moment's notice, to aid a player in legal trouble.

            "Some things are inevitably going to make it into the papers," he explained to me. "With as much scrutiny as the athletes are under, we can't contain 100% of the issues that arise, but we can mitigate, or even erase some of them."

            "Really?" I asked, incredulously. "The stuff like the Peters brothers, the gun in the coach's desk, and Lawrence Phillips happen and your group 'handles it'. Sorry if I'm not buying in on that one, your Ladyship."

            "Lawrence Phillips was the reason our legal branch came into being. The series of unfortunate incidents that led to players getting into trouble, giving the team and the University a black eye, is why we now have a legal branch. When was the last time you heard about a player getting into serious trouble?"

            "What was it? Last year, the two that got busted stealing bikes?"

            "That's right. Penny-ante misdemeanor theft. Spin a nice, 'good deed goes punished' story for the media and the public quickly moves on. You have to give them something, to distract them from the real efforts to keep the kids out of trouble."

            "I don't get it," I said. "just how did you keep those two out of trouble?"

            Mrs. DuMont smiled a genuine, though slightly disturbing, smile. "We didn't. If you want a clearer example of our work, look at the beginning of this season. Five players suspended, one player for two games, for 'violation of team rules'. Without completely unraveling the work of our excellent men and women in suits, a couple of those guys would be facing time in courts and jail, had we not intervened."

            "Are you telling me, that you've got the juice to make criminal acts fade into the woodwork as team discipline issues?"

            "That's exactly what I'm telling you. We even have the juice, as you put it, to make issues disappear completely."

            I must have looked confused and at a loss for words, which doesn't happen too often, since Mrs. Dumont laughed at me and said, "Don't strain yourself, Deary. It's true, and it can boggle the mind, but it is just one of the services we provide for the student-athlete. One last thing, please note how rarely, if ever, any of the girls get into trouble. They commit acts of villainy, too, but you never, ever, hear about them."

            I was forcible evicted from my memory stroll by Lloyd crashing into my office. I had to feel for the poor guy, the season was really wearing on him. He was starting to doubt himself and his loyalty to the team.

            "Hey man," I said to him. "Grab a seat, take a load off. I've got coffee, or the desk bottle is here if you need it."

            He slumped into ratty-assed old couch I have along one wall. It doesn't look like much, but it's great for comforting distraught clients, grabbing a nap when time permits, and every once in a while, building a fort.

            "I'm so close to being done," he said, quietly. "Losing in the last minute? Fine. You had them, and you let them get away. This one, you never really had them. Sure, you had the lead, even in the fourth quarter, but you never really had them."

            I opened the desk drawer and got the bottle out. I needed it more than Lloyd. "Break it down for me. Did they get their asses just handed to them?"

            "No. Northwestern was not clearly superior."

            "Did they get out-coached?"

            "No. Not really. The offense did enough to win, and the defense, except for a few break-down type big plays, did well enough."

            "Then it comes down to making the plays. Did they make more of the plays that counted?"

            "Yes, or rather we didn't make the plays we needed to. Too many dropped passes. Too many missed assignments. Too many injuries to overcome the horrible lack of depth, we have."

            "And don't forget", I said, "How that pick-6 by Tommy just sucked the life out of the stadium."

            "Arrrgh. Don't I know it," Lloyd fumed. "You're down by 2, driving pretty well. It's third down, the play breaks down, and Tommy forces a bad pass. A lot of people say Tommy had bad mechanics. I say the worst of his mechanics start between his ears."

            "Ouch," I mock winced. "The juice just stopped. After that pick, the crowd just kind of sat there, the rest of the game. Every time the crowd got an opportunity to get back in it, Northwestern would get a big play that sucked the air out, again."

            "Exactly. Score a touchdown cut it to 14-12, right before the half, and you get the ball the start the second half. 20 seconds left, back on their own 40, what happens? Big run by the Q-B, all the way to inside the five. Should have scored a touchdown, we got lucky and they had to settle for a field goal, 17-12, the damage was done, though."

            "Yep," I agreed. Even after taking the lead, late in the game, the crowd was dead, anxious, apprehensive."

            "As well they should be!" Lloyd exclaimed. "There is zero confidence in this team, right now. Even last week, against Minnesota, up by 20 in the fourth quarter, the mumblers were mumbling about how they were going to 'piss another one away'. A one-possession game in the fourth quarter? No way is this team winning that."

            I wanted to still urge patience to Lloyd, but I knew he wouldn't listen. I keep waiting for the team to find the string to the basement light bulb, but they keep flailing away, none of the parts meshing as they should. About the only positive is that they are still flailing for the string, not curled up in a ball, sobbing, waiting for daylight to make it all end.

Nebraska 38, Northwestern 17

     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.

Northwestern Post-Game

     Three years in a row, now, the Huskers have dropped a game, at home, that they had no reason to. In 2009, it was Iowa State, 7 turnovers and a 9-7 loss to an awful team, with their best two players hurt. Last year, it was Texas, who finished 5-7 as the Huskers had a virulent case of the dropsies. This year, it was Northwestern, their second and third string quarterbacks playing the Blackshirts like a virtuoso. It's almost like I wish Dan Persa hadn't gotten hurt.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piVnArp9ZE0
     No-one had better lay this on Martinez. He had an excellent game, 28-of-37 (.756 comp. pct.), 289 yards, 2 TD's (should have been three), and NO interceptions. Trying to recall all the incompletions: 2 Kenny Bell drops, one Brandon Kinnie drop, one Ben Cotten drop; the intentional grounding call (good call by the ref's), the interference call on the final TD drive, the go-route to Bell where he got tangled up with the db, and one PBU that should have been interference on Northwestern had the refs applied the same standard as the call against the Huskers in the first quarter; and one pass where Taylor got hit as he threw it on the final drive. Not a bad day's work, all in all.

     Taylor scores a two point conversion

(photo courtesy Kim Adams Johnson)

     I don't really think one can blame the turnovers, even though both of them happened inside the Northwestern 20, including Rex's fumble at the one. The Huskers won the turnover battle with two interceptions and a fumble compared to two fumbles.

     Rex fumbles at the one (we still love you, Rex)

(photo courtesy of Kim Adams Johnson)

     There were some penalty issues, but none were really game-changing except for the interference call in the first quarter. From where I sat, it looked like the defender made a play on the ball, and actually touched the ball before he touched the receiver. That changed a defensive stop, that would have forced a field goal attempt, into a first and goal from the three that resulted in a touchdown.
     For the first time since the Wisconsin game, I've been scratching my head about the play calls by Tim Beck. He ran a lot of read-option plays. The same kind of read-option plays Northwestern sees in practice every day. Northwestern showed up with a great game plan. Take Burkhead out and make Taylor throw. Taylor did throw, and threw well. Beck relied too much on the run, which played right into Northwestern's strategy. If anything, I think Beck stuck with the run too long. I almost got the sense that he felt that the Huskers would wear down Northwestern, and by the time he realized that wasn't going to happen, it was too late.
     When Nebraska hasn't performed well, there has been plenty of room under the bus for Taylor, Beck and even Bo. I've heard a lot of 'take the black shirts away', 'make them wear pink shirts', etc., etc. I'm pretty mystified, too, as to how a great performance against Michigan State was followed up by such a bad performance against Northwestern. Some of it was injury, there were guys in at defensive tackle that hadn't seen any game time until Northwestern. There were obvious communication problems all day, guys were hurrying onto the field as Northwestern switched out their personnel packages. the linebackers were looking at each other...a lot, and didn't seem to know what their responsibilities were. The same went for the DB's at times. Northwestern receivers were getting between defenders, and between responsibilities. Add in the fact that the Northwestern QB's all were making their throws, and the Blackshirts wore out by the end of the game. It is rare, but I saw it yesterday, the other team out-muscled the Huskers in the fourth quarter.

     One of those 747-sized holes (as one friend put it)

(photo courtesy of Kim Adams Johnson)

     Which brings me back to Carl. If Husker Nation expects Tim Beck to own up for calling a bad game, then it is only fair that it does the same when Carl does it. He looked like a freakin' genius, last week, against Sparty. This week, his play calls looked lost. He called the same defense on first down, most of the game. That's fine, if it's working. It wasn't. Northwestern consistently picked up positive yards on first down, leaving them with 2nd and manageable most of the day. They played like champs in the second quarter, forcing three straight 3-and-outs. On the possessions following those 3-and-outs, the Huskers lost two fumbles and got stopped on fourth down. It went downhill from there.
     On the back breaking play, the 81-yard touchdown pass, Ciante Evans got beat on an inside move and Cassidy played the wrong receiver, coming up to cover the receiver running the fly route. He was out of position to help Ciante. The Northwestern quarterback hit the receiver in full stride and he never lost any energy having to change direction. Perfect execution by Northwestern.
     I have nothing but admiration for Northwestern. They came in with a great game plan, handled all sorts of adversity, and adjusted on the fly way better than Nebraska did. Just Nebraska's luck that the Northwestern defense gelled for a whole game at the worst time for Nebraska, but at just the right time for them.
     Getting ready for Penn State, which may have been where the team's head has been, all week, anyway. No way to be sure, but it's the feeling I got. That, and a bit of over-confidence. There are no off weeks in the Big Ten. Iowa, who lost to Minnesota, beat Michigan. Minnesota took Sparty to the fourth quarter. Indiana took Ohio State into the fourth quarter as well. That being said, even if Nebraska sweeps their last three opponents, they now need help to get to the Championship game. If Nebraska wins out, and doesn't get help, the likeliest scenario is Sparty playing Penn State in Indianapolis. That would really stick in Huskerfan's throat, to see the Big Ten decided by two teams that the Huskers beat. That's why it's so important to take care of business.
     National picture time. LSU beat Bama. Yay. There is still plenty of football left, but I think we have one opponent for the National Championship game set. Good thing for Les Tigres that Bama's kicker was terrible. The three remaining "BIG" games that will shape the picture for the other half of the National Championship. TCU at Bosie State: BSU should win, finish the season undefeated, but will probably get left out in the cold. Oregon at Stanford: De Facto Pac-12 Championship game. Leaning toward Stanford, right now. If they finish the season undefeated, they will have a strong case for going to the big show. If Oregon wins out, they will still be behind the 8-ball, since they already lost to LSU. Oklahoma at Oklahoma State: Despite OU throwing up on themselves against Texas Tech (much like Nebraska did, against Northwestern), I was leaning toward the Sooners winning the Bedlam game, knocking the Pokes out of contention. Then Ryan Broyles got hurt. The Sooners are an excellent offense with a good overall defense that is vulnerable to the pass. Now they are down their best running back and best receiver, and have to play a team that throws the ball all over the field and more often than has ever been seen.
     If I were to make a snap pick, right now, I would say that the National Championship will be LSU and Oklahoma State. Oddly enough, Boise State and Stanford could both finish the season undefeated and not even get a shot at the title.
     Oh well, bring on Penn State, but leave your teenage boys at home if you know what's good for you. http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/06/sports/ncaafootball/former-coach-at-penn-state-is-charged-with-abuse.html?_r=1
     Husk-husk and on the qb

It's Good That we Still get to Play Purple Pussies

     I got a call from Precherman, which is weird in itself. That he wanted my help was even weirder. He set up a meeting for a crappy little apartment building at the corner of 27th and X, his home turf, this had to be bad news.
     I gathered up Lloyd, who didn't really want to go, "It's all icky, there," he whined. He whined, but got into the car.
     "I don't like it either," I admitted reluctantly. "Preach called me, it must be something important. He usually handles his own issues internally. If he's calling us, it's because he doesn't want to raise his profile."
     "Either that, or it's something that involves crossing a line that he's not prepared to cross."
     Lloyd is good. He's probably right, which made me a little more nervous than I had been as we reached the meeting site.
     My hinky-detector started to throb as we got to the apartment. Top floor, farthest from the stairs. Dead-man's corner. I knocked. Preach opened the door. His eyes shifted quickly to the right, but it was too late. An enormous pair of hands grabbed my coat and hauled me into the apartment. The arms those hands were attached to, flung me across the room. The dry-wall smelled damp and old. I know because my nose nearly became integrated with it at a significant velocity.
     One of those enormous hands pressed into my back, pinning me to the wall. The other enormous hand reached into places all over me, and into some places I'm reluctant to touch, myself. "He's clean," a voice just behind my ear stated ever so matter-of-factly. Good thing I left my Nerf blaster at home.
     Lloyd and Preacherman were sitting side-by-side on a cheap ratty-assed couch that looked like it had been upholstered in the late 70's during a bad microdot trip. Looming over them was a guy in a cheap three-piece suit, bad hair, and porn-star mustache. He held a gun on Lloyd and Preach. He looked like he knew what he was doing. That was actually reassuring.
     Mr. Big Hands had his gun pressed up to my ribs. He didn't vibe nervous, either. Good.
     The door slowly closed. The closer had an authoritarian air about him, which made it almost funny to watch him look around outside, as if trying to determine how the weather looked as he sealed us in. He actually looked pretty decent in his suit, which just meant that it fit well enough to conceal his shoulder rig. His shoes were good, and well-kept, which meant he didn't run in them, and his coat was an obligatory trench affair, open, but with the belts tucked away. He liked to appear bigger than he was. All of which was fine, since I knew who he was.
     "Detective Lieutenant Moore," I said. "So nice to see you, again. It's been what, five years or so?"
     "Cut the chatter," he growled. "You know what this is about."
     "You want to chat? Put the guns away," I said.  "We're not packing and there's no threat from any of us."
     He gestured to his two goons, who seemed disappointed as they holstered their weapons.
     "I repeat, you know what this is about."
     Interesting. Statement, not question, this could get really hot, since he was already assuming things that I didn't have a clue about. "Unless you're here to grill me an how the Huskers' only real problem on offense is to see that the Young Guns get an equal number of carries in order to give I-Backasaurus Rex a break, I have no idea."
     "Trying to play it cute, huh?"
     "Not at all. That would be like Northwestern trying to play anything that even resembled a defense. The let Penn State score 34 on them. Penn State! The Knitting Lions celebrate getting into the endzone as often as Republicans hold office in Chicago, and they scored at will on Northwestern. Rex, Taylor, Kenny and company should have no problem dropping 50+ on the Purple Pussies."
     Lt. Moore slammed his hand down on the table, "Shut it!" he shouted. "You need to tell me why you did this," he said as he tossed me a small bundle.
     I caught the bundle and unwrapped it. It was a photograph, or rather a series of photographs printed on one sheet. The showed a very interesting tableaux of Lt. Moore and a pretty well-known "Lady of Negotiable Affections" engaged in a sequence that when viewed in a certain angle, at a certain light, would place Moore in a very bad way. The sheet had been wrapped around a Barbie doll that someone had taken extreme pains to dress exactly like the woman in the picture. I had no idea they made tube-tops that small. "Look, Moore, I already know you're on the take." he bristled. "The thing is, I don't care. It works to my advantage, sometimes. I've got no reason to pressure you."
     "Speaking of pressure," Preach chimed in. "The defense is gonna have a good old time with Dan Persa and Northwestern. He is a good, accurate passer, and they run a spread offense. This will be like the good-old days for the Blackshirts. They've been shutting down this stuff for three years, and are now playing with more confidence than they have all year. Throw in the fact that Persa is a bit gimpy and you can pretty much take the runningback on any zone-read plays. Where Persa is really dangerous is when he keeps a play alive with his feet, and then finds a receiver who has improvised on his route. I don't think he'll get that sort of time, today."

     "I don't know, man, he rambles sometimes, but in this case, he makes sense." I tossed the bundle back to Moore. "This isn't my style, anyway. The last thing I need is a bunch of cops making life difficult for me. They tend to rally for each other, which is good. I even think they would rally around you, even though you're Internal Affairs. A dirty cop in IA is just too delicious an irony for me to ruin it with a silly, stupid, poorly thought-out blackmail play."
     "I could run you in and play some 48 hours of grilling to 'check your story'," he said as he held out his hands to make the air quotes sign.
     Lloyd found his voice. "You could do that, and we would endure the 48 hour no charges exercise. Then I, for one, would go to the press. Get the word out on Lieutenant Moore and his 'Rotten to the Core' squad." Lloyd played air quotes, too. "How soon until not one or two, but dozens of the shakedowns start coming forward, hmm?"
     Moore looked flustered. None of his usual threats and intimidation were working. You could see the wheels in his head turning as his support staff looked to him to make the call.
     "One more thing, Moore," Lloyd added. "The only thing that has me concerned, right now, is that this might be a trap game for Nebraska. Just after a huge win, and just before a big game against an opponent that has this week off. The team might be looking ahead, and not paying attention to the here and now. By all accounts, Nebraska should roll, but even the best of us can fall into a trap."
     Lloyd was right, and stared right at me as he spoke. He does have a way of making you feel like crap. Especially when he's right about who made the mistake.
     Moore got up. "Right. This wasn't you?" he asked shaking the bundle at me.
     "Nope."
     "Then you need to find out who did it, who's out to destroy me."
     I knew I had to make my decision on the spot. I don't like the guy. I don't even respect him. Throw in the counter-argument that I was bored, and I was resting on quite the dilemma. "I'll tell you what, Moore. I think Nebraska is going to beat the Purple Pussies by the score of 56 to 14. More than enough to cover the spread, which is 17 1/2. If the Huskers cover, I'll find out who did this, on the clock, expenses included. If they fail to cover. I'll do it for free. If they lose, you're on your own, because I'll be too depressed to do anything productive."
     Moore looked us over, nodded and pointed at the door. Mustache and Big Hands headed for the exit. Moore came right up to my face, "You think you know where my boundaries are, but trust me, you don't," he whispered in a voice that was almost intimate. With that he spun on his heel and headed for the door.
     I looked over at Lloyd. "You know what we have to do now, don't you?"
     "Indeed. We need to watch some football. Then I need to make sure the micro-transceiver in my tie-tack picked up the whole conversation. I'm using the Darth Vader flash drive, too."
    "Anyone up for some tailgating?", I asked the room. Lloyd and Preach nodded.
Husk-husk and on the qb.