Bo Knows, What Exactly?

I want to congratulate wisconsin's mvp, the refs.(especially anthony jordan).Vandy had no answer for you

— Jay Cutler (@JayCutler6) March 18, 2012

It's that time of the year again when I dedicate one post to Wisconsin men's basketball. Over the years I've come to enjoy their brand of basketball, much in the same way that others enjoy glaring at the mangled wreckage of a car accident or clicking on that YouTube video of a bear collapsing from a tree to a trampoline after taking a tranquilizer dart to the neck. I just can't look away. If every other year is any indication, this season is going to end badly, to the point where I'll feel embarrassed for even caring. Twenty percent shooting from the field, 48 total points, 15-point loss, nothing is off limits for the Badgers when it comes to losing an important game in spectacularly bad fashion. To use an NBA analogy, picture your team as a perennial 4 or 5 seed in the Eastern Conference. They finish every season with about 50 wins, either win in the first round of the playoffs (or put up a good fight losing), and then get smashed by a superior team in the second round. Every year. The consistency, lack of down years, consecutive playoff appearances is great, but your team is never a contender. This is the dilemma Badger fans, some of us anyway, struggle with every year; is it better to be a consistently good team or trade in some of those good years for down years if it means occasionally fielding a great team?

The tweet above, courtesy of former Vanderbilt quarterback Jay Cutler, was more entertaining than anything that happened in Wisconsin's 60-57 victory over Vanderbilt in the round of 32. 'Boring' is the most popular adjective used to describe the Badgers and only the most defensive of fans would disagree. Which is why Cutler's tweet struck so many people as funny. Why Cutler, who even called a ref out by name, or anybody else would even care about a Wisconsin-Vanderbilt game is beyond the neutral observer. So what, they're playing to lose to Syracuse? This matters why? It matters because Wisconsin and Vanderbilt are two schools who can never reasonably expect to advance further than the Sweet 16. This was the national championship for both schools, and Cutler reacted accordingly.

     

Every year around tournament time another writer wants to schoomze up to Bo Ryan. They write about how he doesn't get the national recognition he deserves, his team's sparkling home record, and how quietly, he's one of the winningest coaches in college basketball. Ryan isn't mentioned with the Izzos, the Krzyzewskis, the Williams, and the Boeheims because he has had nowhere near the tournament success they have. In Ryan's 11 years with Wisconsin he has taken his team to the NCAA tournament every year. Remarkable when considering the history, or lack thereof, of this program. Five Round of 32 appearances, four Sweet 16s, one first round loss, and only one Elite 8. No Final Fours. Back to the same old question: does at least one guaranteed tournament win every year outweigh the fact Wisconsin is never able to make a deep tournament run? Some concede Wisconsin will never be a basketball powerhouse and are happy this program is having any success at all. Others aren't satisfied with being a great regular season team and a mediocre tournament team. And really, both sides can present convincing arguments. It does seem like cruel a joke, however, that Dick Bennett, Ryan's predecessor, coached for five up-and-down years, culminating in a Final Four appearance in 2000, his last full season on the bench.

So Wisconsin and Syracuse play tonight. Fab Melo is out. I have never seen Fab Melo play, but I don't underestimate what a loss to a key player can do to a team psychologically, even if said team is littered with talented players, as is the case with Syracuse. Wisconsin lost Brian Butch to an elbow injury before the 2007 tournament and completely unraveled. That team had Final Four talent and probably should have lost to 15-seed Texas A&M - Corpus Christi before succumbing to UNLV. Syracuse plays a 2-3 Zone and Wisconsin has five players on the floor at any given time that can shoot the three respectably. All five shooters are either hot or cold at the same time. Intrigue. We all know how difficult it is to rebound out of a zone and Syracuse certainly had their troubles against Kansas State. Should Wisconsin track down some offensive rebounds, they'll be able to drain even more time off the clock and limit Syracuse's possessions. Those will be the two keys to the game: Syracuse's rebounding and Wisconsin's three point-shooting. On paper, this looks like the best possible matchup and timing Wisconsin could have asked for to face a No. 1 seed. Davidson in 2008 and Butler last year looked like pretty favorable Sweet 16 matchups too. *runs head first into a brick wall*    

I'm the Badger fan on the side of the fence that expects them to do more. Part of this, I admit, is because I was not around during the dark years. I'd probably feel different if I'd watched them miss the tournament for 45! straight years. I don't particularly like college basketball and especially don't like 34-second possessions, but familiarity did not breed contempt in my case. Winning basketball games if more fun than Wisconsin's style of play and that is something I think all Badger fans have come to accept. There is a certain beauty to watching Bo Ryan's teams though. Five players playing without a set position, all five getting the most out of their abilities, taking care of the ball, rotating on defense perfectly, frustrating the hell out of more talented opposition, etc. The 'fun' things about this team are the fundamental aspects of the game that most fans either aren't aware of or pay no attention to. You'd convince yourself of the previous sentence too if Wisconsin was your alma mater.

While the swing offense is ideally suited to a 30-game regular season, it tends to be a hindrance in tournament play. The swing offense is built around milking the clock for about 30 seconds before finding an open shot. Sometimes there will be an open shot and sometimes Jordan Taylor will be one-on-one jacking up a fadeaway three. In the swing offense the only bad possession is a missed shot that doesn't take time off the clock. It is a system predicated on making less mistakes than your opponent (not turning the ball over, shooting a high percentage from the free throw line). The problem is, in a win-or-go-home tournament, there is no room for an off shooting night. An off shooting night gets a team sent home and it is almost impossible to put together six straight good shooting nights while running the swing offense. Maybe three or four, but not six. When that off night comes in the third or fourth game, Wisconsin is up against an opponent they can not afford to waste possessions against -- and wasting possessions is a big key to their success.

I can't look away. My fault and nobody else's.

Punching A Hole

I examine the hole in my wooden closet door. It's staring back at me, laughing at my sadness and anger and momentary lapse of judgement. It taunts me everyday in a way only damaged personal property can. I open that closet door everyday to grab the day's clothes and there it is, smirking. I open that closet door later in the day to retrieve a pen, and the hole chuckles. I examine this hole and it looks like a poorly executed scoop of ice cream.* The brown-colored wood is not dark enough to pass for chocolate ice cream. A thin horizontal crack runs over the top of the damaged area to further punctuate the sadness which led to this hole's creation. It's only been here for three days and I already cannot stand this fucking hole in my closet door. This hole is pissing me off more than what led me to put it there.

*Upon further review, the hole also resembles the outline of Hitchcock's face in the intro to Alfred Hitchcock Presents...

I've always prided myself on being a fair, level-headed sports fan. I don't let team tribalism affect my ability to enjoy other players or teams or the sport as a whole. I couldn't imagine taking shit-talking beyond some good-natured jabs, much less swinging on someone because they don't support the same team I do. I don't let the outcome of a game ruin my day. I'm barely even nervous or frustrated while watching because I'm doing just that, WATCHING. The teams I root for have been on the good and the bad side of the score plenty of times and neither outcome has changed anything about my life. My view goes: sports are a diversion. A beautiful, time-consuming diversion from things like work, bills, illness, taxes, and spirituality. When serious, non-diversions cross over into the sports realm, as they often do, I become bored quickly. I just want to see the ball cross the goal line or put through a hoop.

I struggle to maintain this calm and collected ideal while watching college sports. I don't know why this is, but I always manage to lose my shit while watching the University of Wisconsin play football or basketball. Maybe there's more of a connection there because I walked the same campus as the athletes. I have just as much right to take pride in the school's name as they do. Maybe it's the lower skill level or the absence of 5-year 50 million dollar deals. I don't know. I've though about this often and have never come to a satisfying conclusion. All I know is I'm more invested in the outcome of college games even though, if given the decision, I'd much rather see the pro teams I root for win championships. Which makes the way I acted during the Rose Bowl so puzzling. These are real thoughts, quotes and adamant beliefs I expressed during the game:

Oregon is cheating with those shiny helmets. The sun is reflecting off them and making it difficult for the Wisconsin players to see the ball.

"Oh, fuck you Musburger, you insinuating son of a bitch." In response to Brent Musburger pointing out Wisconsin's sideline was in the shade, while Oregon's was roasting in the Pasadena sun.

Sure, it's easy when you're only 800 fucking miles away from Pasadena.

"Phil Knight is buying a championship for Oregon. The program would be completely irrelevant without him. No players would want to go there."

"That's a hold!" After 95 percent of Oregon's plays from scrimmage.

These are just the ones I remember. Point being, I said and thought some stupid things in the middle of the game that I wholeheartedly believed at the time. Then I see Jared Abbrederis -- the most dependable player on the team, the player I would specifically put in the ball in the hands of if I wanted to make sure it would NOT be turned over -- fumble the ball with the game on the line. The football stopped and lay dead like a fumbled football is never supposed to do. It fell to the grass and did not even make an effort to squirm out of bounds. The football lay there for what seemed like 30 seconds for an Oregon play to come and swoop it up. An Oregon player did swoop it up. "HE DIDN'T HAVE CONTROL," I shouted as the replay clearly demonstrates that he did have control.

Wisconsin gets the ball back at their 13-yard line with all of 16 seconds and no timeouts. My faith is nonexistent. Russell Wilson completes a pass to Abbrederis to the 42-yard line. The clock stops until the ball is set. Wilson completes another pass, this time to Nick Toon, down to Oregon's 25. My faith skyrockets. Surely, they can do this. Only 25 measly yards. But the time, oh I forgot about the time. Only 2 seconds. Not enough time to spike it. They'll have to run to the line, snap it and hope Oregon's secondary is the more confused of the two units. There's Russell Wilson, and he's spiking the ball. Zero seconds are on the clock. "ONE SECOND," I yell at the TV. The replays show the ball is still in Wilson's hand when the clock runs out.  Even my dilapidated brain is processing the information correctly. Wisconsin just lost a second straight Rose Bowl.

I calmly got out of my chair walked over to the closet door and punched it harder than I've ever punched anything before. Then I walked out, no emotion or feeling whatsoever, like I used to do after punching the old time cards at work. I didn't notice the damage until a couple hours later. My first thought was how could this have happened? Me of twelve-year-old-girl strength is not capable of punching a hole in a wooden closet door. But apparently I was because I was staring right at the fucking thing. When that thought sunk in I became ashamed. I had let the game become more than a game. What if the closet door had been a small child wearing an Oregon jersey? If they could see this closet door now, my loved ones would surely be embarrassed for me, a sober 24-year old who reacted like someone half his age would to a stupid football game. Like Michigan State, like Ohio State, all I wanted was a proper last play. A final chance to keep the ideas of glory and shared athletic experience alive.

I don't remember a single thing about last year's Rose Bowl. I remember the Badgers lost to TCU and the final score was 21-19. That's it. I very likely repressed the memory of that game. This year's Rose Bowl will not be so easy, mainly because it was such an amazing game. Oregon's speed and athleticism countering Wisconsin's bruising runs. De'Anthony Thomas. Montee Ball. Kiko Alonso. Russell Wilson. LaMichael James. A dizzying pace, two great offenses waiting for the other to have a letdown, an improbable fumble and last second spike that incredibly was even an option. I don't think I'll forget this game. If I do, there's a hole to remind me.           

Musburger and Bilas: Sleepin' and Slurrin'

BRENT MUSBURGER and JAY BILAS are set to broadcast a battle between Top-10 schools, No. 7 Wisconsin at No. 5 North Carolina. MUSBURGER gears up by watching his favorite reruns of Wheel of Fortune. 'That Sajak is an absolute pro,' he mutters. 'The last of a dying breed.' BILAS slips some codeine in his cup of coffee to prepare for the abhorrently slow pace. He disgusts MUSBURGER by solving the puzzles with very few letters on the board. 


MUSBURGER: Here we go folks. Chapel Hill. North Carolina set to take on Wisconsin. ACC/Big Ten Challenge. The tradition, Jay. The atmosphere, the titles, Dean Smith, Roy Williams, dashing powder blue ties --it's gets no better than this!


BILAS: Look for Carolina to try and lower the bang early, Brent. They're the more talented of the two teams. They're longer, faster, and they have 22 thousand of the most brutish, singular-minded people on Earth screaming their heads off.

MUSBURGER: Here we go. Carolina wins the tip. Strickland knocks down the jumper. Whoa, BABY! They're on FIRE!

BILAS: Key question here coming up: Where will Wisconsin find their offense? Jon Leuer used to be that guy, but he's gone now. Much of the onus will fall on Jordan Taylor this year. Uhh, Brent?

[MUSBURGER dozes off watching Wisconsin swing the ball at the top of the key]


MUSBURGER: UH, oh yes. Bruesewitz with the THREE! Missed it. Thank God. Carolina has the ball back.

* * *

MUSBURGER: Carolina up 12-5 after the timeout. They're really starting to pound the ball inside.

BILAS: Wisconsin just can't contend with Carolina's size. Coach K used to say, 'Bilas, I can teach you to shuffle your feet. I can teach you how to get into a good rebounding position, but I cannot teach you size. I said, 'What can I do, Coach?' He says, 'We'll take a trip to the Medieval Torture Museum.' He wasn't kidding.

MUSBURGER: [Laughing heartily] Coach K, ladies and gentlemen. The Hall of Famer!

* * *

MUSBURGER: Wisconsin within two after the under-4 timeout. How have they done it, Jay?

BILAS: They really have Carolina playing their game. Carolina wants to get out and run with the mercurial Kendall Marshall but Wisconsin hasn't allowed them to. Wisconsin is dropping guys back and conceding offensive rebound opportunities. They're forcing Carolina into a half-court game and Carolina is obliging. They're jacking up outside shots and that is NOT their strength. 

MUSBURGER: What must Carolina do to get out of their funk?

BILAS: Well, I'm not so sure it's a funk, Brent. At some point we have to acknowledge Wisconsin's ability to win this game against a superior opponent.

MUSBURGER: We do?

BILAS: Play along, Brent.

* * *

MUSBURGER: 25-24 North Carolina with the lead to start the second half. How would you describe the pace of the first half, Jay?

BILAS: This was a Screw Tape come to life on basketball court, Brent. Imagine yourself in a dingy H-Town basement. Smoke swirling everywhere, drank in your cup, and a gaggle of fine tricks gathered around. Try to envision 2Pac lyrics to 'Keep Ya Head Up' blended with Nate Dogg's chorus from 'I Don't Wanna Hurt No More,' all over an obscure souped-up 5th Ward Boyz instrumental. The world will slow down for you. Trivialities pass. Enemies become friends.

MUSBURGER: I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm sure the younger members of our audiences do! Who was that you said?

BILAS: DJ Screw. Rest in Peace. I'll play some for you in the trailer.

MUSBURGER: I'm more of a Frankie Ford fan myself.

BILAS: Stay in your lane, Musburger. I can respect that.

     * * *

MUSBURGER: Miraculously, improbably, amazingly, STAGGERINGLY, Wisconsin is up five here at the under-12 timeout. Jay, what in the world is going on?

BILAS: I'm telling you, Brent, someone must have forgotten to tell Bo Ryan and his team how good North Carolina is supposed to be. Ryan Evans wouldn't look out of place as an extra in Wild Style and he's giving the pre-season All-American Harrison Barnes fits on defense. And I can't say enough about this kid Jared Berggren. How many 6'11 guys do you know who can give a pump fake at the top of the key and blow past his defender like Berggren has done tonight? 

MUSBURGER: There's not many, that's for sure.

BILAS: And you have to respect Berggren's shot, that's what makes him so deadly. North Carolina needs and answer, AND FAST. 

MUSBURGER: You know who would have loved this Wisconsin team, Jay? A man by the name of Adolph Rupp at the University of KENTUCKY.

BILAS: No doubt about it.

MUSBURGER: You look at a team like Wisconsin and the first thing you notice is they have a great color about them. Never flushed, always in control. Above all else, they're fundamental. They're not going to turn the ball over. And they do it, Jay....you look at them and they shouldn't even hold a candle to Carolina.

BILAS: No Brent, they really shouldn't. You almost have to wonder what Bo Ryan puts in the drinking water up in there in Madison.

[BILAS and MUSBURGER share a laugh].

MUSBURGER: Back to Adolph Rupp for a second. Now that was a man who recruited a specific type of player. They didn't have to be the flashiest or most athletic. They needed to get the job done and look responsible while doing it. Clean haircuts. Shorts at the right length.

BILAS: Rupp wasn't going to change his system for any one player. You see the same thing with Bo. He recruits players to FIT HIS SYSTEM. Not the other way around.

MUSBURGER: These guys on Wisconsin may be unheralded but they're not backing down. You can tell they're comfortable in their own skin. No tattoos, no baggy hip-hop shorts. They just play the game the right way. AGAINST ALL ODDS. Bo coaches 'em up, but they're going for it. They don't need the extra motivation.

BILAS: That reminds me of a fun Jimmy V story, Brent.

MUSBURGER: OH GOODIE.

BILAS: Jimmy used to get after the late great Lorenzo Charles. He wanted him to be more aggressive on the offensive glass. He'd tell him, 'Go up for that board like it's a hubcap!'

[MUSBURGER bursts out laughing]

MUSBURGER: That's Jimmy V for ya! Breathtakingly funny and an absolute class act!

[A timeout is called on the floor. The show's producer taps into their headsets]


PRODUCER: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH. What the fuck was THAT!!


MUSBURGER and BILAS: What?


PRODUCER: Like a hubcap? Like a FUCKIN' HUBCAP?


BILAS: Oh shit.


MUSBURGER: I'm failing to see the problem.


BILAS: All my fault. It was the codei--the uh, Code Red. Mountain. Dew. Code. Red.


PRODUCER: When we get back on the air, you need to apologize.

MUSBURGER: How do we know Lorenzo didn't steal hubcaps? We have a responsibility as journalists to investigate the matter further before we issue an apology.

PRODUCER: Do it you fucking MORON. AND JUST RETIRE ALREADY.


[MUSBURGER and BILAS are back on the air]


MUSBURGER: Hey folks, it's come to my attention that we made some rather insensitive comments in our broadcast a few moments ago. We seemed to insinuate that the late great Lorenzo Charles was involved with petty theft in his youth. We didn't mean to suggest blacks are more likely to commit these crimes. Hubcaps are just as often stolen by Mexicans and Filipinos, I'm sure.

[PRODUCER stabs himself in the jugular with his pen. His last words: 'Et tu, Bilas? I expected better of you'].  

* * *

MUSBURGER: North Carolina has taken control of this game behind the sweet shooting of Harrison Barnes.

BILAS: Big-time players make big-time plays. Barnes suffered an ankle injury in the loss to UNLV. Roy Williams wasn't even sure if Barnes would play tonight.

MUSBURGER: You know Mr. Barnes wasn't about to miss this one!

BILAS: Well, he appeared a bit hesitant in the early going, but he's been instrumental in Carolina's comeback. We have to credit North Carolina's defense. They've held Wisconsin scoreless for the last five minutes.

MUSBURGER: The dangers of passing the ball at the top of the key for 30 seconds.

BILAS: Absolutely. The Badgers have no low-post presence. John Henson has staked his claim down low. Valiant effort, but it looks just about over for Wisconsin.

[Jared Berggren hits a three to cut the North Carolina lead back to five. Both teams trade points before a Jordan Taylor three cuts the lead to four with 26 seconds left]

MUSBURGER: They just won't give up! What a scrappy bunch!

BILAS: They have talent, Brent. Deceptive, snail-paced talent.

[North Carolina has put the game away. Kendall Marshall sinks his first free throw to put North Carolina ahead 60-54. Marshall misses his second and Ben Brust grabs the rebound]. 

MUSBURGER: Brust with the half-court heave.....IT'S GOOD!! IT'S GOOD! THEY'VE DONE IT. WISCONSIN HAS PULLED OFF THE UNTHINKABLE. THEY'VE BEATEN CAROLINA IN CHAPEL HILL!!

BILAS: They actually just lost the game, Brent. They were down by six at the time of the shot.

MUSBURGER: Indeed they were. North Carolina 60 and Wisconsin 57. That's all from us, folks. Enjoy the Big East season.

Palate Cleanser

I've watched this Hail Mary exactly one hundred times since it happened two weeks ago. I told myself I would stop at one hundred, as the cleansing should be sufficient by then. Watch any video -- spectacular, brutal, harrowing, inspirational -- enough times and it will become ordinary. Desensitization is the name of the game. This Michigan State Hail Mary, as improbable and synchronically beautiful as it once seemed, is just another game-winner to me now, no different than a first down completion or kneel down in the victory formation. But enough about the Michigan State game. This post is about the Ohio State game and the moment of redemption that was set up perfectly for Wisconsin, and never happened.

Unconsciously and sometimes consciously we try to make sense of things through comparison. Much of today's sports writing is is predicated on comparing last night's game to The Wire or The Shawshank Redemption. Or trying to find a historical comparison for a certain player, or a game in a similar ilk to the one that just occurred. This type of thinking can be lazy, and prevent us from forming any kind of original thought. But comparisons can also help in providing a larger context for sports and a more developed paradigm from which to work. I guess it all depends on perspective.

Comparisons are especially useful to shape a narrative. Take the last two Wisconsin games. Wisconsin lost on a last second Hail Mary and now found themselves on the other end of it against Ohio State. After letting their three-point lead slip away, Wisconsin received the ball on the 40-yard line, down four points with 18 seconds left. Looking to get the Badgers within a more manageable Hail Mary distance, Russell Wilson's first throw was an incompletion to Nick Toon. The second, again to Toon, bounced off his hands. But wait...a penalty! And not just any penalty, but a 15-yard personal foul on Ohio State safety Christian Bryant for grabbing the face mask. The clock had ran out, so Wisconsin had one play left from Ohio State's 45-yard line, the manageable Hail Mary distance they were looking for.

This was now venturing far beyond the realm of half-baked comparison. Michigan State's Hail Mary came from Wisconsin's 43-yard line. Cousins released the ball at his own 45. Russell released the ball at his own 44. Both quarterbacks faced a three-man rush and rolled out to their right. The only difference: where Wisconsin dropped back eight, Ohio State linebacker Andrew Sweat lingered around midfield until the pocket collapsed. He sensed his opportunity, blew past the Kevin Zeitler practically untouched and got just enough of Wilson's arm to prevent a throw of any consequence (4:22 in the video below).




What I sensed, even in real time, was a perfect narrative, a Hail Mary destined to redeem the Badgers from last week's gaff/bad luck. Except Andrew Sweat showed up to the table with a compass handy and attempted to draw perfect circles by hand. They of course came out misshapen and ugly. Fuck you Andrew Sweat for having the gall to change the course of something much bigger than you.

With two straight losses comes crazy consequences, like looking up a little bit higher at Penn State in the standings. The same Penn State that needed almost forty minutes to push across a field goal against Illinois, and for Illinois to miss a 42-yard field goal as time expired to come away with a 10-7 win at home. The same Penn State whose coach, 84-year-old Joe Paterno, sits up in the booth and does God knows what. Does he call plays, watch film, or do anything 21st century coaches do? I don't know. His recruiting pitch has been reduced to, "Come to Penn Staaaaaaaaaaaaaaate," as he clutches his coat pockets, bravely withstanding the ever-present chills of 80 degree weather. "It's either here or the Temple Owls," his recruits respond. "Sure. I'll come to Penn State coach." JoePa recently accepted a nice plaque to commemorate his Division I leading 409th win, to which he thanked the room for the thoughtful birthday gift. They didn't have to get him anything.

Penn State controls their destiny in the Big Ten, but the real test starts now. They have a bye next week, and follow that up with a home tilt with Nebraska, and back-to-back away games at Ohio State and Wisconsin. Wisconsin needs them to lose at least one of those games before their match-up to close out the Big Ten season. Should this happen, and as long as the losing stops, Wisconsin can still miraculously end up in the Big Ten title game. Two weeks ago it was the National Championship, this week it's, "Gee willikers, I hope the Nittany Lions slip up so we at least have a shot at playing for the BIG TEN title." How the mighty have fallen. Apologies to Purdue and Minnesota for what's going to happen in the next two weeks.

November 5th marks the start of a cleansing period for the Badgers. They've experienced the turbulence and can see clear skies ahead (fingers crossed). There's now officially no room for error, but don't worry, Bret Bielema gets off to that sort of thing. I expect a much more focused football team. Or a team that appears more focused but is really just beating up on shitty competition. I'm fine with either.

Nick Toon (No Nickelodeon)

Perusing Twitter a few weeks ago, I came across Wisconsin Senior wideout Nick Toon's Twitter handle -- @TOOOOOOOOOOON -- a tip of the cap to the fans who bellow his name after every catch. It's not the funniest or most clever, but it's my new favorite Twitter handle. My first thought was to count the number of "O"s because why not? I was pleased to count 11 "O"s. Solid. Eleven is an arbitrary, clunky number. Ten is nice and clean. The 11 tells me Toon typed a "T," placed his right index finger on the "O" key and held it there for a few seconds, and followed up with an "N." Had he been concerned with aesthetics or practicality, he would have made it an even ten. I immediately thought of situations in which his Twitter handle may be problematic:

UW-MADISON STUDENT: I'll hit you on Twitter about this Agricultural Journalism project. What's your handle?

TOON: It's TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON.

UW-MADISON STUDENT: Uhh, how many "O"s is that?

TOON: Jesus, I have no idea. Just type my name in the search box and my account should pop up on the right side.

UW-MADISON: So you want me to type your name into Twitter? Is this some kind of lame attempt to show me how many people are talking about you?

TOON: I have over five thousand followers.

And so on.

I've often wondered if athletes seriously consider why the crowd chants their name. They're fan favorites or good players, those seem like the obvious answers. Sometimes familiarity with a player -- he's played most or all of his career for the same team, or even tradition -- we chant his name because we've always done it, play a part. During pregame introductions in the 1990s, roars of LUUUUUUUUUUUUUC would fill the United Center when Luc Longley was introduced. Nowadays, Luc has been replaced with LUUUUUUUUUUUU for Luol Deng. For Bulls fans, tradition meets appreciation in the form of pregame introductions. Each time Packers fullback John Kuhn touches the ball, Lambeau is engulfed in KUUUUUUUUUUUUHN chants. Kuhn is a short and stout white guy who does all the dirty work. His primary role is that of lead blocker, but he will occasionally be asked to pick up short yardage or catch a checkdown out of the backfield and take on a linebacker head on. Kuhn's look and style of play appeal to the blue-collar sensibilities of the Green Bay fans. He could be and probably is the guy sitting next to you at Joe's Texas Barbecue, wolfing down the hefty pulled pork sandwich.

TOOOOOOOOOOON is a combination of all of these elements. Former walk-on Luke Swan preceded Toon at Wisconsin and became a fan favorite. Camp Randall shouted LUUUUUUUUUUUUUKE after every catch and held their right arms at 90 degree angles, rotating their hand to resemble a swan's head. Aided by his father's impressive NFL and UW resume, Toon endeared himself to the crowd with his athleticism and knack for making the spectacular catch. Now a Senior, Toon has developed into the consistent Number One receiver the team envisioned him as two years ago. Chants of his name are as much an appreciation for his development as a player as they are an adherence to tradition and nepotism.

As nice as it is to talk of tradition and performance, we cannot ignore the obvious. There are many great players, iconic players, all-time great players who have never heard their name chanted in a stadium. This isn't because they are overlooked or their home fans are shitty. They simply do not have names as aurally pleasing or compatible with a sustained chant. Peyton Manning, Brian Urlacher, James Harrison, Adrian Peterson -- great players, but names that need to be broken down to multiple syllables in order to chant. They just wouldn't sound as good.

Not to take anything away from the Nick Toons of the world, but he clearly is the beneficiary of a perfect name. The special sign of appreciation Camp Randall shows to him is as arbitrary as the number of "O"s in his Twitter handle. The fans mostly scream his name because the close back rounded vowel sound in "Toon" is nice to listen to for 5-10 seconds at a time. And this is why @TOOOOOOOOOOON is my new favorite Twitter handle. It caused me to contemplate an otherwise glossed-over subtlety of fan behavior, and I now know what a close back rounded vowel sound is. 

Neither of these pieces of information are useful in any way.  

Eternal Heartbreak

Click To Enlarge

File this one away with the pictures of your ex-girlfriends. Call on this image when you're trying to remember why you ate a whole box of Oreos, big bag of Doritos, and carton of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream all on consecutive days. You've gained 15 pounds and no one will ever love you. You're a fat slob and you like it that way because now you know who your real friends are. Want to scare the little trick-or-treaters this Halloween in your quaint Wisconsin suburb? Go to Kinkos, blow up this image and tape it to the door. Underneath it, tape a handwritten note saying, "This is what you have to look forward to, future Madison students. Eternal heartbreak. Signed, Satan."

Enlarge this image, press you eye to the computer screen and try to focus on the football. If you're 50 or older you don't see a football game, more like a really difficult Rubik's cube. If you're between the ages of 26 and 49, you can make out some green, lots of green, and some red, and some white. If you're 25 or under and have 20/10  vision or better, you can probably spot a tiny brown turd that barely crosses the goal line. At some point, every sport has been dubbed "a game of inches." Sometimes this cliche is the only way to make sense of what happened. Like today, where an inch or less just cost Wisconsin a long-shot chance at a National Championship.

I wrote a few days ago that I didn't believe Wisconsin would play for a National Championship -- too many factors beyond they're control, and they wouldn't go undefeated. My reasoning for both opinions went: they're Wisconsin, good things aren't allowed to happen to them. If things worked out how they were supposed to, the winner of LSU-Alabama would play the winner of Oklahoma-Oklahoma State for the National Title and an undefeated Wisconsin team goes to the Rose Bowl. As it stands now, Wisconsin can power sweep right through their five remaining games and find themselves in the B1G Championship game with a Rose Bowl birth at stake. A hypothetical one-loss Wisconsin team in the Rose Bowl would be easier to stomach than an undefeated Wisconsin team screwed out of a shot at the big game. I'll refrain from saying the Michigan State loss was beneficial, but it did push the Badgers down an inevitable path.

The last three weeks or so, I've taken great pains to watch the Top-5 teams and root against them. I'm not this kind of fan. I find it much more satisfactory to root for teams rather than against them. This is fun for about a quarter before the Top-5s start to pull away. They will never lose. Wisconsin will never catch a break. Wisconsin loses to Michigan State and I turn to the Oklahoma-Texas Tech game. Texas Tech is up 31-7 early in the second half. Oklahoma has won 39 straight games at home, they'll find a way to come back. Like clockwork, Oklahoma rips off 17 straight points to put themselves within seven. But Tech somehow holds strong, and scores 10 points on their next two possessions. Three minutes and one touchdown later, Oklahoma has a chance to cut the lead to one score. Their kicker booms a 28-yard field go off the upright, killing their chance of a comeback. He missed by inches.

I know what I just witnessed. One of the key dominoes just fell. Oklahoma lost. Now if they can defeat Oklahoma State on December 3rd, the door is wide open for Wisconsin to sneak into the National Title game against the SEC champ. Then I remember Wisconsin lost an hour ago. I polish off the rest of the Oreos.

Just The Thought Of It

"What should I write about?"

"You should write about why you've been so mean to me lately," she said.

It's true. I have been mean to my girlfriend lately. Just yesterday, I snapped at her for some unknown reason. I was sitting at the computer, searching for a song on 97.1 The Drive's website. I was scrolling through their playlist, trying to find the song that had been playing on the radio ten minutes ago during our drive home. I skipped from song to song and was having terrible luck. Suddenly, I turned around and there she was -- standing over me, looking down. My girlfriend appeared to -- No -- she wanted to hurt me. But why?

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped.

Blank stare. Thought bubble: I happen to be standing behind you at the moment. Is there a problem? Would you like me to step six inches to the left or right. Would that make you feel more comfortable?


"Why are you looking right over me like that?"

As is the custom when I'm acting stupid, she simply turned around and left the room. I sat there wondering  why her standing behind me triggered such an emotional response. My heart was beating fast, and the edge of my forehead began to sweat a little. Some time later I apologized for being an idiot and asked her what I should write about. I ask this from time to time in order to stave off the ideas, or more aptly put, the half-formed ideas swirling around my head. Rather than try to grab one and run with it, I find it easier to have someone else narrow my search, and provide direction. Kind of the columnist's equivalent of writing a column in response to someone else's column.

"You should write about why you've been so mean to me lately," she said.

And that's how we got here.

Naturally, I've been thinking about college football a lot, more specifically, the log jam of undefeated teams atop the rankings and their National Title implications. Here they are: Kansas State and Houston (LOL), Stanford and Clemson (bless them, but they are going to need many, many things beyond their control to break in their favor), and LSU, Alabama, Oklahoma, Oklahoma State, Boise State, and Wisconsin. The last six teams are who I'm most concerned with.

Two weeks from Saturday, LSU and Alabama will battle for the privilege of representing the greatest thing to happen to college football since college football itself. A month later, Oklahoma will visit Oklahoma State and engage in what will be the last time the state of Oklahoma will exist until next September. Boise and Wisconsin will continue to hack away at their Grade D meat schedules. There's really only three ways this can end:

1) Winner of LSU-Alabama meets winner of Oklahoma-Oklahoma State in the National Championship. If you have no rooting interest in any of the above teams, this is what you want.
2) Three of the above teams end up losing a game, Wisconsin goes undefeated, cuts in front of undefeated Boise in the National Title line, and everyone tries to figure out what just happened. It'll be a cold day...
3) All four teams lose, Wisconsin and Boise run the table and meet in the lowest rated BCS Championship game ever. We're going streaking.

I've resigned myself to the fact the first scenario is going to happen. So the question, for me, becomes: Does Wisconsin lose a game at some point and eliminate themselves from contention, or is there one of those strange situations we've seen twice in the last ten years, where three automatic qualifiers go undefeated and the computers determine which two are most deserving? The latter would suit Boise. They've went undefeated four times this decade and passed over in favor of automatic qualifiers. The difference is the last two years, they've been ranked highly in the preseason poll, giving them more clout within the BCS formula. Still, it's going to happen again. Boise will go undefeated and finish the year 3rd or 4th in the BCS.

But what about Wisconsin? My team. I refuse to believe the BCS Gods? would be so cruel as to let them go undefeated and still finish 3rd. They don't deserve that. Wisconsin is doing what they always do: scheduling a Charmin-soft non-conference schedule and taking advantage of a down B1G. This year they just happened to fall into a really good quarterback. So my karmic-influenced logic goes: If undefeated, Wisconsin will be in the BCS Title game. The BCS Title game will not feature Wisconsin. Therefore, Wisconsin will not go undefeated. I realize this is not a valid argument, but it's been five years since I took that one Logic class, and I think you get my point.    

* * * 

I've been having a reoccurring nightmare. I'm living out of a tent in Fresno, California. My possessions consist of a scratched-up lighter with no lighter fluid, a red (possibly Fresno State) XXL sweater, and a deflated "Happy Birthday" balloon. I keep to myself mostly, afraid of the crack, the crackheads, and people in general. I try to fall asleep but never can, the people can be quite loud when they want to be, which is always. I'm lying on my stomach trying to fall asleep, when I here a knock on the tent. This is a dream, so the knock on the tent sounds like a knock on the door. 

"Go away," I yell. "There's nothing for you here."

My response elicits even more powerful knocks. I turn around to yell again and I see this man, overlooking me.

I jump back, but I'm trapped in a tent. He says nothing and sticks out his giant right arm in my direction. He seems to be suggesting I should grab his hand and follow him, so I do. We exit the tent into a colorful land of rainbows and waterfalls. This man is now stark naked, wearing only his helmet. A large emperor's chair appears and he sits down. A 32' non-HD TV appears along with a VHS player. The man stands back up, pops in a video, picks me up and places me gently on his lap. The video begins and the man explains to me that this naughty little girl has ran away from home and is seeking refuge, but mostly a warm bubble bath.  Luckily, the butcher, who lives alone and sports a handle-bar mustache has offered to help. He runs the bath water.

The man continues to pet my head and fast-forwards to last year's Wisconsin-Michigan State game. There's Keshawn Martin returning a punt 74 yards for a touchdown. There's John Clay, stoned at the line of scrimmage, and Scott Tolzien throwing another incompletion. There's Kirk Cousins completing the 4th and 1 TD pass to BJ Cunningham to ice the game. I look down dejected as this man continues to pet my head. Things become a bit hazy after this. Then I wake up.

"You should write about why you've been so mean to me lately," she said.

Well, there's the answer. The unsuspected sight of my towering girlfriend transported me back to my nightmare encounter with Sparty. The Michigan State game is this weekend and the circumstances are similar to last year's. Wisconsin taking advantage of a mediocre schedule, Michigan State at home coming off an emotional win. If Wisconsin is destined to lose a game this year, this will be the game. Just the thought of it makes me uncomfortable, and apologetic for my mood swings.   

A Letter To Russell Wilson

Dear Russell Mr. Wilson,

I don't usually do this. On an imagined level, I too know what it's like to be famous and great at what I do. The last thing I want is for a stranger to pen a long letter telling me what I already know: My life is infinitely better than theirs. Despite this, I feel compelled to ruminate on the effect you've had on me, and undoubtedly, thousands of your peers. Like I said, I don't do this sort of thing. I don't elevate athletes to hero-worship status, but I would bow in your presence. I really would.

I'm not going to pretend like I followed your career at NC State, I didn't. ACC football is as foreign to me as emollient-based products and Perfect 10 models. I just knew you were supposed to take my beloved Badgers to new heights and I was skeptical. I doubted the impact one man could have on a group of teammates he was unfamiliar with. I doubted one man's ability to basically reinvent the quarterback position in Madison, showcasing skills we've never seen here before, and capture the imagination of an entire campus -- an entire city. Critics will you say you haven't been challenged yet. Your non-conference schedule was a step below "Cream Puff." The Nebraska game was at home, their defense leaves something to be desired, and Taylor Martinez was forced to throw the ball 22 times. I watched you smoothly step to the side, as if you couldn't be bothered by a defensive lineman's pass rush. I watched as you turned a 10 yard loss into a 15 yard gain. As you rolled out of the pocket countless times to buy a few seconds, and found the open receiver every time. I remain in awe of the way you never take a big hit. You either absorb contact as if it was a natural geologic occurrence or run out bounds. You realize a crushing blow is not worth, in the worst case scenario, your team's season, or simply an extra yard you can easily pick up on second down.

Above all else, there never seems to be a point where you are not in control. I cannot understate this enough. Nothing rattles you. Your demeanor on the playing field is the type of assurance us regular people strive for in our everyday lives.

You probably wouldn't have guessed it, Russell Mr. Wilson, but I played football once, ages ago. I was 11 years old. My brief career was shaped by a set of circumstances largely beyond my control. Before the season started, many of the player's parents were bickering. I had no idea what they were bickering about, but you know how parents get when it comes to sports and their children. This bickering resulted in a mass exodus of most of the best players our town had to offer. They went on to play in an independent Pop Warner League, while my parents, who were as clueless as myself concerning the matter, signed me up for the Park District League. Being part of the Park District team was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing being I had an opportunity to play right away and despite my lack of experience, was already one of the better players on the team. The curse, so to speak, was a very poor team. Our team was composed of a few nominally good players, inexperienced players such as myself, and a bunch of younger kids who were too fat to play within their age group. We won our first game by six points. It was our only win all year.

I was a receiver for the Park District team. Now, I know what you're thinking: Wide receiver, that's a fine position which requires speed, agility, and good hand eye coordination. You should be proud of your ability to step in and play such a demanding position right away. While I appreciate the sentiment Russell Mr. Wilson, do you have any idea how many times we threw the ball per game? Zero. An 11 year-old receiver is nothing more than a glorified offensive lineman. Except where O-Lineman can develop some sort of camaraderie that stems from battling in the trenches side-by-side, I was alone on an island. I charged at defensive backs like a bull, exerting all I had with the knowledge that we were running the ball up the gut anyway. One time, I became so frustrated that I started to make growling noises in the middle of a block. The d-back laughed at me, and mockingly exclaimed, "Ooh, I'm so scared. Gems hit me." The joke was on him however, as I bypassed his hand in the middle of the postgame handshake line.

It was also during this time I began having trouble eating. I had choked on a piece of chicken some months earlier, which resulted in the scarring of the tissue lining my throat. I experienced sharp pains in the area that felt like my throat was swelling up and closing. I became afraid to eat. A meal that would take a normal kid 15 or 20 minutes to eat took me two hours. I grinded away at my food until it had practically dissolved because I was afraid to swallow it. I thought every swallow of food would result in my death. Thanksgiving was hell. Friend's birthdays were even worse. Having to answer questions about why you're breathing so deeply and touching your throat after every swallow were embarrassing. Meals are supposed to be some of the day's most enjoyable moments, but to me they were a reminder of my inability to live a normal life.

I made numerous doctor visits. They all said I was fine, my throat was fully healed. Any thoughts of choking or swelling were purely my mind's creation. The mind is a powerful thing, as you know. I had convinced myself every bite of food was a death wish. For this, I suffered, mostly mentally, but a bit physically. I lost some weight but continued to play football. I was 70 pounds, playing with 95-pounders and dealing with the inevitable: At this rate, there was no way I could play next year against better competition and a 125 pound weight limit.

While my time on offense amounted to little more than playing dress up, I found my calling on the defensive side of the ball. I played defensive back and was able to shed blocks from receivers who would rather be catching passes. Playing defensive back was great because teams rarely threw the ball, meaning I was given plenty of room to improvise. The moment I recognized the ball wasn't going to be thrown, I could play the run. I loved playing the run. There was something about challenging backs, especially ones who outweighed me by 25 pounds, that felt exhilarating. I knew they underestimated me, Russell Mr. Wilson, that was probably it. One game I made over 20 tackles, we lost, but the outcome wasn't so important as long as I was able to hit someone.

It took a year to finally get over my fear of swallowing food. I can't imagine how ridiculous it must be for someone else to read and try to comprehend that sentence. Turns out that even after eating regularly I couldn't put on weight, still can't. High metabolism. So my desire to be a hard-hitting enforcer on the football field was doomed from the start. I didn't sign up for football the next year because of another irrational fear -- I thought my weight disadvantage would be too much to overcome. You know as well as anyone that size doesn't matter. Do you hear the announcers? They're comparing you to Drew Brees. You're pulling off something remarkable.

When I think of my year playing football, I go back to a time when I seemingly had no control of my life. I fell into deep depressions over my inability to eat and grew frustrated over being phased out of the offense. I've watched Chicago Bears quarterbacks my entire life. When I think of football, I think of chaos. I think of a game that an individual could never impose his will on. You're slowly changing my perception of football, Russell Mr. Wilson. For that, I am eternally grateful.

My sincerest regards,

- Joe          

Cornhuskers, Lend Me Your Ears

True story: years ago, my friends and I would sit around, get drunk, and look for things to pass the time. One of the games we came up with was a surprisingly fun memory game. Each of us grabbed a piece of paper and pen and agreed upon a category. Each category was to be simple and plentiful. For instance, NFL, NBA, or MLB teams, Simpsons characters, European countries, etc. The aim, with nothing but paper and pen, was to recall and write down as many of the category we could think of off the top of our heads. On the surface, this seems like an incredibly easy game. Let's say you consider yourself an NBA junkie and someone asks you, "Quick, can you write down the names of all 30 teams on a piece of paper?" You'd probably laugh and start scribbling away at the easy request. Except after 25 or 28 teams, you're going to get stuck for a minute or two. You'll hate yourself for it, but inevitably, when asked to recall a large number of items, even items you're very familiar with, you're bound to suffer a brain freeze and maybe not be able to recall one or two items all together.

The category I remember best was "The 50 States." With a category like this, the game becomes much more than a game. Your pride, education, and reputation are on the line. There are no excuses for a born and bred American to not be able to recall all 50 states. I began scribbling. I was somewhere in the 40s when I began to hit a wall. I couldn't remember anything. I calmed down and started to envision the US map in my head. I knocked off a few more states. The time came when I thought my list was complete. I counted 49 states. For the life of me, I could not think of the state I was missing. I sat there for what seemed like ten minutes, trying to recall the missing state.

I obviously was very upset and gave up. I scoured down my friends' lists. The state I could not remember was Nebraska.

While this story mostly just serves as an illustration of my ignorance, I tell it because I want everyone to know how little I once thought (and still think) of the city of Lincoln, state of Nebraska, and Cornhusker football program. They literally did not exist to me and exist now only to serve as a stepping stone for Wisconsin's national title hopes. Now it's true that Nebraska's football program has historically been much more successful than Wisconsin's football program. To that I say, "Which team's hasn't?" It's also true that corn, and the name "Cornhuskers" specifically is easy to make fun of. "Cornhusking" could replace "Masturbating" in our everyday language and no one would notice the difference. To paraphrase Socrates, "Anticipate what your opponent will use against you and begin to attack the shit out of their point before they bring it up." So I cannot expect to rag on corn without cheese being thrown in my face, and quite frankly; corn, mixed with cheese, chili powder, and a little bit of pepper is delicious.

The inspiration for Nebraska's current outfit is the once-beautiful, now "in his early thirties and selling something" Eric Crouch. Already experienced in the intricacies of salesmanship, Crouch sold his hopes and dreams to the Nebraska faithful at the turn of the millennium. His efforts culminated in the 2001 Heisman trophy and a Rose Bowl loss to Miami. Drafted in the third round by St. Louis, the Rams aimed to convert Crouch to wide receiver. To which Crouch responded by pounding his fist on the table and shouting, "I'm a quarterback, goddammit!" His NFL days promptly ended after suffering a leg injury and he was last seen playing 4th-string quarterback* for the CFL's Toronto Argonauts.

*The assumption being, a 4th-string quarterback holds two clipboards.

On-again-off-again* "quarterback" Taylor Martinez is Nebraska's present-day Eric Crouch. First, let's clear up a few things: Taylor Martinez is not a girl. And despite his last name, "doesn't look like one of them Mexicans," according to Lincoln residents. One assumes he watched Crouch play growing up and realized quarterbacking the Nebraska football team did not require any quarterback-specific skills. Martinez is one of the best athletes in college football, has an identical number of carries, rushing yards, and touchdowns as his running back Rex Burkhead, and his unable to complete a pass over 10 yards. His 50.6 completion percentage is vintage Crouch.

*The term is used to describe a literal switch that can be used to turn Martinez's brain on and off.

Martinez garnered headlines last season when ESPN cameras caught his coach, Bo Pelini, laying into him during the first half of a Texas A&M away game. Staring into the maroon colored sea, Martinez thought of the prime Texas ribs he'd be digging into that night. He said nothing. Pelini was hot over a phone call Martinez apparently made to his father in the locker room. Martinez was injured and taken into the X-Ray facility. After being cleared to play, Martinez headed over to the locker room, retrieved his cell phone, and made a call to his father to tell him he was alright. Pelini caught wind of the incident and confronted his quarterback. According to team rules, cell phones are banned from the locker room. Pelini was also upset because his only chance of winning was dicking around in the locker room when he could have been playing. He suspended Martinez for the next game. Martinez's dad caught wind of the suspension, informed Pelini his son was transferring, and suggested his son wear a boot at practice to make it appear as if he couldn't play because of injury. Martinez left the switch off and put the boot on his uninjured foot. Martinez's father felt it would be harder to find a transfer school if other teams found out his son missed a game to suspension. News of Martinez's imminent transfer hit the papers and everything went to hell, including Pelini himself during the offseason for what he called, "a pleasant little vacation."

Here is the video of the incident:



Pelini's outburst is misunderstood to this day and more accurately went down like this:

Pelini: Were you fucking talking on your cell phone. [posed as a question but not meant to be one.]

Martinez: ...

Pelini: You were talking to my daughter. My goddamn daughter. Weren't you. ['']

Martinez: ...

Pelini: She's nine fucking years old. NINE!

Martinez: ...

Pelini: I know you weren't talking about Wizards of Fucking Waverly Place.

Martinez: ...

Pelini: If you fucking call my daughter ever again, under any circumstances, but especially on the fucking field during a game again it'll be the last fucking thing you ever do. Now get your fucking ass out here mother fucker.

Martinez: [under his breath and after Pelini is a safe distance away] Little bitch.

This is the relationship Nebraska is working with here. These are the two people whose civility determines whether or not they win football games. Martinez left the switch off all offseason and forgot his father decided for him to transfer. He's still in Lincoln, still the starter, and a beloved playmaker until Nebraska loses their first game. Now for the mascots.

Well, it appears to be in the shape of a Big Boy. Well, in many ways the Big Boy never left, sir. He's always offered the same high-quality meals at competitive prices. This photo also serves as a visual representation of the Cornhuskers' passing game.

Mmmm Hmmm. Narm narm narm. Which one of you fine ladies gets off on being tied up and strapped onto the end of my tractor? Really, Lil' Red? This is your hero?

Bold Prediction Number One: Taylor Martinez accomplishes the opposite of the Chicago Bears' offense last week: 278 rushing yards and 13 passing yards.

Bold Prediction Number Two: Both teams combine for over 80 points, and 65 of them will not be scored by Wisconsin.

Final Score: Wisconsin 45 - 40 Nebraska. Neither team can stop the other. Bielema and Pelini's postgame handshake is gif worthy. The 30,000 Nebraska fans that are supposedly making the trip to Madison turn out to be closer to 15,000. Most of those 15,000 get lost on the way back to their irrelevant state because they don't know how to read a map and/or cannot afford a GPS.

Why Don't You Like Me?

Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems that the younger generation, which I still consider myself to be a part of, has an unhealthy obsession with being hated. Perhaps this this just a poor reflection of the people I associate with and am trying to distance myself from, but I can't go on Facebook or sometimes even Twitter without someone mentioning their "haters." Whether these haters are perceived or real, I'm going with perceived 99 percent of the time, is besides the point. I blame rap music. (Just kidding).

For one to be hated, at least in the context of this younger generation, is usually the result of having achieved success in life. The "haters" are jealous of success and turn to bitterness and hatred of others as a way to mask their own problems. This is by no means a new concept, just one I feel is being flipped around and used as a badge of honor nowadays. I don't think 1950s businessmen gauged their success by the amount of negativity surrounding them, but I also wasn't alive in the 1950s.

The so-called normal people's (by that I mean not rich or famous) claims of being hated usually fall on deaf ears. Let's use my life as an example. I spend hours of my day reading books and Internet articles. I hand-write an unfinished novel in my former high school and college notebooks. When I'm not writing in those notebooks, I stare at the computer screen and think of sports-related things to write on this blog. I own one pair of jeans and about 8-10 T-Shirts. I have a medium-sized record collection, half of which was inherited. No one in their right mind would waste their time being jealous of me.

However, being hated is something the sports fan knows all too well. Miami football. Duke basketball. Yankees baseball. Cowboys football. Big-Three Heat basketball. Ask fans of these teams how kindly they're received. Chances are fans of these teams probably start to enjoy the hate after a while. Save for the still-in-the-process-of-trying-to-win-it-all-Heat, all of these teams have had tremendous success in the past. There are certainly other factors that contribute to the hatred of them and their fan base, but it all starts with success. No one cares about a perennial loser.

Since so many "normal people" gravitate towards sports, it seems natural that one's affiliation with a sports team is probably their only hateable offense. I've always wanted to know what this feels like. The closest I ever felt to hatred because of the team I rooted for was sophomore year of college. I went to school in Wisconsin and the Bears went to the Super Bowl. I wore my Bears hat like a scarlet letter. The Bears went on to lose the Super Bowl, so the joke was kind of on me in the end. The Cubs exist as a mere punchline. Outside of New York, the Bulls teams of the 90s were more revered than hated. 

I think this year's Wisconsin Badgers have a real chance of being the college football team everyone loves to hate. College football teams like Miami, Ohio State, and Notre Dame will always have their fair share of detractors regardless of how good they are, but hatred in sports moves in cycles. When the constants are losing, the public needs a new whipping boy. For Wisconsin, I think all the necessary elements are there for a one-year hatred period.

Take a look at Wisconsin's schedule. Now think of a sexually inappropriate joke to signify how easy something is. Their non-conference schedule includes home games against UNLV, Oregon State, and Div. 1-FCS's own South Dakota, and a game against Northern Illinois at "neutral" Soldier Field. Given the size of Wisconsin's fan base, number of alumni who live in Chicago, and the close proximity to Madison, this is basically another home game. Wisconsin doesn't face a true road contest until October 22nd in East Lansing! Add in the uncertainty surrounding Michigan State, Ohio State, and Penn State's programs, and it's very possible a home game against Nebraska, the fifth game of the season, will be Wisconsin's only roadblock to an undefeated season. Indiana, Purdue, Minnesota, and Illinois are well-dressed punching bags. People love to hate on team's with easy schedules. Especially those god-forsaken SEC supporters.          

Viewers of the Big Ten Network will remember the above commercial well. It's notable now because half of the featured coaches have since been canned, and for just how creepy Joe Paterno is. Would you entrust your child's future with this 84-year-old man? I thought this was supposed to be a promotional tool...You'll notice Bret Bielema sporting his patented Bielema voice.

"Big Dubyah. On the helmet."

"Alrighty, boys. Let's run the pigskin up the gut now. Woo-boy is it a good day for football."

Bielema grew up on a hog farm in Prophetstown, a tiny city in northwest Illinois. "I always chuckle because I came from a town of 1,800 people," Bielema once said. "But I had 2,500 pigs on my farm." If there's a better person to represent the state of Wisconsin and the Midwest as a whole, I can't think of anyone. During his time at Florida, head coach Steve Spurrier used to play with the dumb southerner stereotype. "Well, aww shucks, guys," he'd say. "I'm just slingin' the ball 'round, not worried bout scorin' no heap a points." He ran up the score on opponents and played dumb while doing so.

"We're just playing Wisconsin smash-mouth football," Bielema says. Bielema may just be the Midwest version of 90s Spurrier. Score points, a lot of them, and then rationalize it in the form of regional colloquialisms. Bielema already has the reputation of being a bit of a prick in that respect. The Badgers scored 201 points in their last three games of last year, including 83 on Indiana. They scored 70 or more in three different games. The motivation for this seemed to be because they could. People don't like when teams show up lesser opponents, and if his previous years at the helm are any indication, there will be plenty of that this year from Bielema.

Wisconsin wins the old-fashioned way. Run the ball (preferably 50 times a game), draw up a few intermediate passing routes to keep the defense honest, win the special teams battle, and play reasonably stout defense. There's nothing pretty about this kind of football unless you enjoy seeing 12 yard runs up the middle for six straight minutes. Plenty of people, including myself, love to see a good rushing attack pan out, but plenty others, especially neutrals, want to see the ball fly more than two times every drive. People hate to see boring win, and Wisconsin wins in boring fashion.

To recap: college football appears to be in need of a team to hate this year because the traditionally hated teams probably won't figure prominently in this year's national title race. Wisconsin has many of the necessary elements to make a team worth hating. They have a pathetic non-conference schedule and possibly a weak conference schedule as well. They have a coach with a reputation for running the score up, who represents the Midwest a little more strongly than anyone outside the Midwest is comfortable with. And Wisconsin does not play an exciting brand of football. Get your tomatoes ready.

There's only one thing left to say:

Pack It Up, Pack It In. Let Me Begin.

"Jump Around" is the most well-known thing about Wisconsin football, even more so than anything they've done on the field. At the end of each 3rd quarter the PA system blares House of Pain's 1992 hit and the student section at Camp Randall jumps around. ESPN and the BTN love it, Brent Musberger loves it, and the non-student sections love it; sometimes choosing to join in, looking foolish amongst those seated in their area, or just reminiscing about the glory days of their college youth. Wisconsin away crowds even take Jump Around on the road, adding to its lore in the process.

As a youngster watching on TV, I too was entranced by the sea of red jumping around. It looked like the fun, free, drunken good time college is supposed to represent to the people who either never went, or are buying their time in high school. When it came time to pick a school, Jump Around had no bearing on my choice. It didn't hurt though that before looking into anything academic, Jump Around was the only fully formulated thought I had of the school. Turns out, Jump Around is indicitive of the football program at large.

I didn't win football season tickets my freshman year. Each student had to enter a lottery, and a few thousand were selected. Sophomores, juniors, and seniors were guaranteed tickets if they wanted them. As the ever-so pessimistic 18-year old me expected, I didn't win and was forced to watch from my dorm. My freshman Saturdays usually consisted of waking up at 10:58, sometimes working off a hangover, and watching every game. This was OK until my roommate (who did win tickets) came home and told me about the pregame parties, short skirts, keg stands, and postgame parties. Occasionally he'd mention something about the game. His presence reminded me how low I still was on the totem pole.

Sophomore year rolled around and I finally had those tickets. I received them in July and cobra-clutched those things until school started. This was it, my first game as a season ticket holder, and almost as important, my opportunity to be a part of Jump Around. Wisconsin led Western Illinois 20-3 at the end of the third quarter. Neither team scored in the third quarter.*

*Had to look up these details. Most definitely didn't remember them.

The build-up to Jump Around was incredibly exhilarating for a first-timer. First, they played an animated race between the letter of each student section (apparently they still do, as evidenced by the above video from last year), while each student held up four fingers to signify the start of the fourth quarter. Then the distinct, DOO (pause), DOO, DOO, DOO lead in to the song.

Watching from afar or on television, Jump Around appears to be a coordinated, synchronized effort. I was shocked to notice a few things. First, half the students don't even jump, they just appear to be jumping. They're really bouncing up and down because they either aren't athletic enough or too drunk to jump. Also, there's not much room to land if you do choose to jump, so jumping more than two inches isn't the smartest thing to do anyway. People do fall over, in fact, quite often. They tend to get lost in the sea of red, but falls happen. The only truly safe students are in the front row (meaning they likely bypassed pregaming to get there early), or about twenty rows up where there is a railing to hold on to while jumping.

I left that game feeling kind of cheated. Jump Around was fun, no doubt, but it wasn't nearly as impressive as an insider. This is how I feel about Wisconsin football. Using the year I started college to the present -- 2005-2011 -- as an example, Wisconsin had a pretty good run. Their 2005, 2007, and 2009 teams were good, their 2006 team looked better than it was because of an easy schedule, their 2010 team was really good, and the 2008 team was terrible. Those six teams amassed a regular season record of 57-17 with two Capital One Bowls and a Champs Sports Bowl victory. They lost four home games in this six-year span, and two of those came from the atrocious 2008 team. These are pretty good numbers for a Midwestern college football program not named Ohio State, Michigan, Penn State, or Notre Dame.

Listen to the studio analysts, football and basketball, and they'll tell you how underrated the Wisconsin program is. They'll tell you they do nothing but win, but they do it under the radar. Compare Bret Bielema's resume with more well-known coaches and it will stack up nicely. The problem is and always seems to be with a Wisconsin team, is they can't win the big game. Last year would have been Wisconsin's first Rose Bowl win in over a decade. They were a better team than TCU and choked. I don't have enough space to run down the list of men's basketball NCAA tournament failures.

This is why Wisconsin football is like Jump Around. Watching Jump Around from across the stadium looks like the students are impressively jumping a foot in the air in unison. A .770 regular season winning percentage from a team that doesn't attract 5-star talent looks like a great achievement. But once you step foot inside Jump Around or look at the Bowl Games Wisconsin has either lost or failed to qualify for, you'll see neither are as great as they appear.

I attended all fourteen home games in 2006 and 2007. 14-0. I jumped around a the end of the 3rd quarter all fourteen times. Strangely, even after thinking I was "over it" each time, I found myself looking forward to the next Jump Around. Such is the case with every Wisconsin football season, especially this season. Is this the year they finally get it right and win the Rose Bowl? I don't know, but I'm sure they'll look good doing whatever they do.

We Will Be Back, We Have To Be

"Let's Go Red. Let's Go Red. Let's Go Red."

The whispered chants of the Badger faithful scattered faintly across New Orleans Arena. Down 20 with just over 10 minutes left, Wisconsin had scored just three points in the second half. I felt sorry for those chanting. Were they looking for something to do? Did they feel obligated to cheer, knowing they had spent all of their parent's Spring Break money on a trip to Louisiana? Or did they actually believe the Badgers would come back and win?

Fandom is funny like that. Rooting for the same team, through thick and thin, by nature is extremely irrational. We wouldn't continue to support an artist who has consistently put out shitty albums the past decade. We wouldn't clamor to see a director's next movie if his first one was a dud. Hell, we might even divorce our spouse or disown our child if having them around continued to depress us year after year.

Any rational, die-hard Badger fan, not content with mediocrity has surely been tested the last decade. On one hand, it's easy to be pleased with Wisconsin's new found success. The Badgers have notched ten straight NCAA tournament appearances, four Sweet 16s, one Elite 8, and advanced to the round of 32 nine of ten times since Bo Ryan took over. Ryan's predecessors, on average, took Wisconsin to the tournament about once every ten years. Progress, yes. But progression is a relative term. Wisconsin basketball is in fact progressing, but doing so at a snail's pace.

Speaking of snail's pace, Wisconsin's offense has been known to stall to almost unbearable levels. Their historic 33-point effort, historic for all the wrong reasons, against Penn State in the second round of this year's Big Ten tournament provided a collective chuckle for college basketball fans across the nation. That game also showcased how dependent the Badgers are on their outside shooting. They have a very difficult time winning, particularly when they're not hitting threes.

First-team All-Big Ten center Jon Leuer is the Badgers' only consistent low-post threat. He posted up early in both the first and second half but couldn't get anything going. He seemed to abandon the block all together after missing some shots he would normally make. Leuer finished the game 1-12, hitting a lone three-pointer at the 16:32 mark in the first half. Those would be his only three points in the game. Wisconsin can't win with only three points from Jon Leuer.

It's easy to single out Leuer, Wisconsin's leading scorer during the regular season, but the entire team struggled offensively. Beginning in the end of the first and half and extending into the second half, the Badgers had a 9-minute stretch where they didn't score a single point. Think about that. Nine minutes! Leuer missed three shots during that stretch, and his teammates missed ten.

Then the chants came. The Badgers had scored three points in the last 12 minutes. It's hard to say how much a crowd inspires a team. I'm sure those cheering would like to think they could make a difference. Otherwise, what's the point? Whatever their thought process was, a small Wisconsin contingent, existing within a Butler scattering and the abandoned seats of Florida and BYU fans may have inspired a run.

Jordan Taylor promptly dropped five points, cutting the seemingly insurmountable lead to fifteen. The Badgers would dwindle the lead to four after a Taylor three-pointer with 37 seconds remaining. That is as close as they would come. Wisconsin scored 30 points in the second half, 14 of them came in the final 3:23. The Badgers didn't deserve to win. They are the better team, but weren't on Thursday.    

Their nine-minute scoreless stretch is probably the most memorable portion of the game, that is, if you're a bitter individual. The more optimistic fans will look towards the final three minutes and point towards the resilience of this Wisconsin team. The proper recollection, I would say, is somewhere in between.

I honestly didn't believe this team would beat Belmont. Now I feel like they should be in the Final Four. Irrational thought processes at their finest. Such is the life of a fan rooting for a team drenched in mediocrity. Woulda, coulda, shoulda....But I, those watching on TV, and the brave, hopeful throng in attendance on Thursday will keep coming back. We have to, there's no other way.

LET'S GO RED. LET'S GO RED. LET'S GO RED.

Wisconsin In Need Of A Statement Tournament Win

Below are the overall records and number of Top 3 conference finishes in the last ten years of some of the high-profile coaches in college basketball. Their overall record is listed first, and number of Top 3 conference finishes in parentheses. Again, these numbers encompass the last ten years of each coach's career.

1) 294-64 (8)
2) 287-61 (10)
3) 287-73 (8)
4) 256-93 (6)
5) 242-90 (7)
6) 235-108 (5)

Now think about which coach matches which number. Surely, you guessed Coach K and Roy Williams at some point. Probably Bill Self, Tom Izzo, and maybe Jim Boeheim as well. Congratulations, you'd be correct. Chances are though, unless you're a college basketball savant, or follow the Big Ten closely, you didn't correctly guess number 5 on the list. That would be Wisconsin coach Bo Ryan, one of the most successful coaches of the last decade, but rarely mentioned in the same breathe as the other five.
It's easy to see why. Here's the same list, replaced by number of Sweet 16, Elite 8, Final Four, and Championship game appearances in the last ten years (2011 Sweet 16 appearances for Krzyzewski, Self, Williams, and Ryan were included).

1) Mike Krzyzewski - 6 Sweet 16s, 1 Final Four, 1 National Championship
2) Bill Self - 3 Sweet 16s, 2 Elite 8s, 1 National Championship
3) Roy Williams - 1 Sweet 16, 1 Elite 8, 2 Final Fours, 1 Runner-Up, 1 National Championship
4) Jim Boeheim - 3 Sweet 16s, 1 National Championship
5) Bo Ryan - 4 Sweet 16s, 1 Elite 8
6) Tom Izzo - 1 Sweet 16, 1 Elite 8, 2 Final Fours, 1 Runner-Up

Bo Ryan is as good of a regular season coach as there is in college basketball but his tournament resume pales in comparison to the above list of heavy hitters, which doesn't even include Thad Matta or Billy Donovan. My point is not to disparage Ryan, but to beg for a statement win.
Bo Ryan is the best thing to ever happen to Wisconsin hoops. Sure, Wisconsin won a National Championship (1941), and added a Final Four appearance (2000) before him, but those are two diamonds in a 78-year rough.
Ryan has been the model of consistency at Wisconsin, honing his system that won four Division III Championships at UW-Platteville. The Badgers qualified for the NCAA Tournament seven times in a 62-year period before Ryan's inaugural 2001-02 season. He has taken his team to the tournament in all ten years as Wisconsin head coach. The Badgers were never seeded higher than fifth before Ryan took over. They've been a four-seed or higher four times under him. Ryan's teams have also advanced to the Round of 32 in nine of their ten appearances.
Basically, pencil the Wisconsin Badgers into the second round of the tournament every year. 2011 is the year they have to take the next step.
I'm as realistic of a fan as any. Wisconsin never will be a Duke or North Carolina. They've successfully recruited one McDonald's All-American in school history and probably won't earn a commitment from another for the next ten years. Their roster is routinely composed of the best players from Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and three-star recruits from Illinois. They don't have the name recognition, facilities, history, or market to compete with the schools that hang banners every year.
With that in mind, Bo Ryan has done a wonderful job of developing and recruiting players for his swing offense. Every player needs to be able to pass, handle the ball, and hit outside shots -- including big men. Ryan has shown a knack for finding skilled bigs and hard-nosed defenders, most of which were passed over or neglected all together by bigger name programs.
Realistically, Wisconsin's ceiling is the Elite 8 with an experienced and talented Bo Ryan team. It's time to escape from reality. Ryan needs desperately to validate his program. The best coaches and teams carry over their regular season success to the NCAA tournament. Wisconsin has yet to do that.
Their 2005 Elite 8 run was a bit of a fluke. They earned a 6-seed and defeated 11th seeded Northern Iowa in the first round. Then due to a couple of upsets, drew 14-seed Bucknell in the 2nd round, and 10-seed North Carolina State in the Sweet 16. The two teams they avoided? The 23-8 UConn Huskies and the 23-7 Kansas Jayhawks.
A 2011 advancement to the Elite 8 will be much more impressive. Belmont finished the regular season with 30 wins and was probably one of the three or four best mid-majors in the tournament. Kansas St. was a Top 5 preseason pick that dismissed some key players early in the year but still finished the season with the core of their team together. Butler is a veteran team with five contributing players from last year's runner-up team.
There is no clear-cut favorite between Wisconsin, Butler, Florida, or BYU. If there was ever a chance for Bo Ryan to lead his team to a Final Four this is it. Wisconsin basketball needs this. But more importantly, Ryan's legacy needs this.
Deep tournament runs are the only thing that separates him from the other great coaches of this era. Well that, and I don't see Coach K cranking dat Soulja Boy anytime soon.

Next Thanksgiving, Big Ten Fans Will Be More Thankful

For those of us who have recovered from yesterday's Thanksgiving day feast, Friday's college football slate feels a lot like the dessert. Three games, (2) Aurburn- (11) Alabama, (21)Arizona- (1)Oregon, and (4)Boise State- (19) Nevada have all the makings of a drama-filled weekend prior to Conference Championship Week. National Championship implications, rivalries, and potential upsets are as essential as turkey, gravy, and mashed potatoes were yesterday.
That's great for the SEC (Conference Championship next week) and Pac 10 (who doesn't have a 3-team tie atop the conference), but Big Ten fans are once again, both literally and figuratively, left out in the cold. The lack of a Championship Game is nothing new in the Big Ten, but seems particularly important at the moment.
Consider tomorrow's marquee Big Ten games: Michigan - (8) Ohio State, (10) Michigan State - Penn State, Northwestern - (7) Wisconsin. Wisconsin lost to Michigan State and beat Ohio State, and Ohio State beat Michigan State. All three teams are currently 10-1, 6-1 within the division. Since neither team defeated the other two, the BCS ranking will be used to determine the Big Ten Champion (assuming each teams wins tomorrow).
The BCS, the vindictive system that it is, has screwed all of our teams over at one point. That's why we don't like it. Yet, Big Ten fans will likely be at its mercy this weekend.
As a Wisconsin fan, not only do I have to root for my own team, but either an Ohio State victory, or Michigan State defeat. If Ohio State loses, Wisconsin loses, even if they win. Make sense? Of course it doesn't, it's the BCS all over again. Michigan State owns the tie-breaker with Wisconsin, some if it comes down to a draw between them, Michigan State goes to the Rose Bowl.
Realistically, Wisconsin, Ohio State, and Michigan State should win tomorrow. If they do, Wisconsin will win the Big Ten. So what am I complaining about? The lack of competition. Allowing computers to decide which team is best. Not giving the two best teams in conference a chance to battle it out. I don't like doing things in a round-about way. If a championship is to be crowned, the champion should be decided by a game between the first and second best team.
Here's what I'm thankful for this holiday season: there will be a Big Ten Championship game -- next year. With the inclusion of Nebraska into the Big Ten and subsequent realignment into two six-team divisions, a Big Ten football champion will be crowned the right way next year.
Some people don't like like it. They want rivalries preserved. They want Big Ten schools to be more centrally located on the map.
Minnesota and Wisconsin have been playing each other for 120 years, and their recent rivalry with Iowa has developed into one of the more competitive ones in the Big Ten.
Paul Bunyan's Axe and the Heartland Trophy are filled with tradition but they're not the most important prize. That distinction belongs to the National Championship trophy. As a Wisconsin fan, I'm more concerned with having a fair shot at the National Championship than defeating Minnesota 41-23 in the sixth game of the season.
Today, I give thanks for the BCS system that happens to favor my team right now. Next year, the eleven other Big Ten teams can be thankful too.