I have a crush on College Football. I love everything about it. The weekly matchups, the pageantry, the recruiting, and the dawn of hope that comes each August. Well this August my hope was quickly turned into pain. The kind of pain from taking a red pen and jamming it into your eye. My Irish are 1-7, and apparently, from what I read and hear, the laughing stock of college football. I thought I would share with you the evolution of a fan in this kind of pain. From wanting to jump off the top of my roof, to somehow, some way, seeing a silver lining in what could only be the worse Irish football season of my life. So here we go: the two voices inside my head.
The depressed, want to throw the remote through the tv voice: How could the IRISH be so bad? They are awful. They can't run the ball, can't throw the ball. Their special teams are atrocious and their offense could only be described as an unsightly bunch. A hideous team, plain and simple.
The somehow optimistic voice inside my head:Don't worry about it too much. It is only one season. And despite what Charlie says, this is a rebuilding year.
Remote Thrower: Rebuilding!! I thought Ohio State was going through rebuilding and they are No. 1 in the polls. The University of Notre Dame should still be an average football team when they go through the rebuilding. How in the world are they only 1-7???
Optimistic Voice: Yeah, they are 1-7, which sucks, no doubt about it. However, they have played the toughest record in the NCAA DI so far. Losing at Penn St and Michigan, and against BC and USC at home is nothing to hang your head about. They aren't going around playing Akron and NorthEastern Indiana St.
RT: Who cares? They should just throw in the towel. Where is the talent? The offense line looks like my Grandma's knitting group. My stomach is getting upset just thinking about it. They are never going to win another game again. Should I throw away my IRISH t-shirts? I am too embarrassed to wear my hoody out in public.
OV: Don't worry, the talent is on its way. The kids that are Juniors and Seniors right now weren't even ranked a top 25 class by Rivals100. And both of those classes only had 1 or 2 top 100 players. Ty was bringing in 2 and 3 star guys. Now Charlie has recruited two top 10 classes in a row and they have the number 1 class set to enroll next fall according to Scout.com and Rivals100. The young and inexperienced o-line still needs time to adjust and establish depth to be successful in the future.
RT: Recruits aren't making any difference this year. Jimmy Claussen...woopidy doo! He is awful and can't throw a ball more than five yards. I am so glad he is our reason to hope in the future. Plus, who says Charlie and the coaches can actually mold these guys into players. My alcohol consumed each Saturday is slowly on the rise!
OV: Just give them time to adjust to the speed of the game. NExt year: 8-4 and in 2009: back to BCS bound!! Corwin Brown, the Defensive Coordinator, is just the guy you want leading the defense. And Charlie will be ok once he makes the adjustment to coaching younger college kids instead of the established vets that he had when he came to ND. So get down off that roof and keep those Irish clothes ironed. Touchdown Jesus will uncover his eyes soon and be impressed by what he sees in South Bend.
RT: I will put the razor blades away for now. But if we lose to Navy, Army, or Duke the bonfire of Irish apparel will be at my house over Thanksgiving.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Baseball Purgatory: 99 Years and Counting
By: Chi-Town Toe
"Dad, where are we?" asked the pudgy young boy from the Northwest Suburbs of Chicago in 1984.
"Well, son, we are in a place called Baseball Purgatory. A place of endless waiting and suffering."
"Why does it smell so bad in here?"
"The smell is from the old people that have been waiting 99 years to enter those pearly gates over near the corner. But those old people have seen it all. I have only been waiting 58 years," says the father, "and you but a few years--they have been here forever. You weren't even here during 1969, when we all rushed up to the pearly gates with Ernie, Billy, and Ron and the beautiful angels were within sight. But right before we got there a black cat crossed our path, and next thing you know the angels were letting in Mets fans, fans who had only been waiting a few short years."
"Well that doesn't seem very fair," said the son.
"OH NOOOOOOO! It's not hell, but its close!" moaned Ron Santo.
"We got some talent this year!" said the father. "Rick Sutcliffe could hold the key to those gates!"
"Jo-dy Davis will surly get us in! Ryno and The Sarge could help him too!" the boy stated enthusiastically. "JO-DY! JO-DY!"
"What the hell is this?" the father exclaims. "Why is Leon Durham letting the ball through his legs?"
The boy stares in disbelief, learns his first cuss words from thousands of men in Cubby Blue, and slowly wipes away his tears in Baseball Purgatory.
5 years go by and all the boy hears is more cuss words from the other side of the room as fans in thick Boston accents saw their path to the gate smashed closed by Bill Buckner.
"Now this is our year, Dad," the growing boy states confidently. "We got the Rookie of the Year, Jerome
Walton and clutch hitting with Sandberg, Grace, and Dawson."
"I suppose your right," said the father. "But will the pitching hold up?" You could see the hope in the father's voice slowly dwindling each year.
The angels whisper Cub fans names, but waiting there to slam the door in their face is a determined Will Clark.
9 more long years, waiting, hoping. The Bulls win on the waiting room tv, but it doesn't fill the void. It is not the same as what would await us inside the pearly gates. Instead, it is just a tease. Sparkling grape juice around the room instead of the true champagne.
"Wait a second," the father moans. "These 7 Marlin fans have only been waiting minutes! I can't believe they got the key! I HATE expansion teams....NO, I LOATHE expansion teams!"
When 1998 comes, a new flame-throwe
r gives Cubs fans hope.
"Did you see what Kerry Wood did?" is whispered from fan to fan. "What about Sammy Sosa?" "He is a freak!" "This is it!"
The father and son both sit, still waiting, as a Kevin Tapani pitching performance is wasted and Matt Karchner and Jeff Blauser hold back the angels coming to escort the Cub faithful.
"What the hell!" the son explains as his Cub hat slams to the floor. "How the sam-hill did those Diamondback fans sneak in after only a few minutes of waiting? This is Freakin Ridiculous!"
Its 2003 and the Cub fans are on their feet. The angels call their name, they see the streets lined with gold. The noise is deafening. And then, Darkness and silence, followed by tears and jeers.
"Why did that idiot fan touch the ball?" "Alex F'n Gonzalez!!!" "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
The boy breaks down, the father threatens to run out of the room. They will give up baseball for sure. This can't be happening. Most fans feel like their dog just got shot in front of their eyes.
More waiting and waiting. And the room gets less crowded every year. The Red Sox nation breaks down the pearly gates in 2004 after Babe Ruth finally gives them the key. The Cubs fan sit quietly, mourning as White Sox fans taunt them from behind the gates in 2005.
"Well, Dad its 2007. We got the hitting. Soriano, Lee, and Ramirez won't let us down."
"They sure better hit, we payed enough for them," exclaims the father.
"Well, at least we didn't have to get out of our uncomfortable chairs that are now conformed to our bodies," says the son. "We should have seen this coming. Losing to the no-name Diamondbacks!"
"I am getting old, and worry I might never see what is inside those gates," moans the father.
The waiting room gets darker and less crowded every year. Only Alex Rodriguez sits alone on the other side of the room. The smell never goes away and always gets worse. Those pearly gates look better every moment and Cub fans sit alone in Baseball Purgatory.
Pics
Dawson and Wood: www.chicagocubs.com
Jody Davis: www.agonyandivory.com
"Dad, where are we?" asked the pudgy young boy from the Northwest Suburbs of Chicago in 1984.
"Well, son, we are in a place called Baseball Purgatory. A place of endless waiting and suffering."
"Why does it smell so bad in here?"
"The smell is from the old people that have been waiting 99 years to enter those pearly gates over near the corner. But those old people have seen it all. I have only been waiting 58 years," says the father, "and you but a few years--they have been here forever. You weren't even here during 1969, when we all rushed up to the pearly gates with Ernie, Billy, and Ron and the beautiful angels were within sight. But right before we got there a black cat crossed our path, and next thing you know the angels were letting in Mets fans, fans who had only been waiting a few short years."
"Well that doesn't seem very fair," said the son.
"OH NOOOOOOO! It's not hell, but its close!" moaned Ron Santo.
"We got some talent this year!" said the father. "Rick Sutcliffe could hold the key to those gates!"
"Jo-dy Davis will surly get us in! Ryno and The Sarge could help him too!" the boy stated enthusiastically. "JO-DY! JO-DY!"
"What the hell is this?" the father exclaims. "Why is Leon Durham letting the ball through his legs?"
The boy stares in disbelief, learns his first cuss words from thousands of men in Cubby Blue, and slowly wipes away his tears in Baseball Purgatory.
5 years go by and all the boy hears is more cuss words from the other side of the room as fans in thick Boston accents saw their path to the gate smashed closed by Bill Buckner.
"Now this is our year, Dad," the growing boy states confidently. "We got the Rookie of the Year, Jerome
Walton and clutch hitting with Sandberg, Grace, and Dawson.""I suppose your right," said the father. "But will the pitching hold up?" You could see the hope in the father's voice slowly dwindling each year.
The angels whisper Cub fans names, but waiting there to slam the door in their face is a determined Will Clark.
9 more long years, waiting, hoping. The Bulls win on the waiting room tv, but it doesn't fill the void. It is not the same as what would await us inside the pearly gates. Instead, it is just a tease. Sparkling grape juice around the room instead of the true champagne.
"Wait a second," the father moans. "These 7 Marlin fans have only been waiting minutes! I can't believe they got the key! I HATE expansion teams....NO, I LOATHE expansion teams!"
When 1998 comes, a new flame-throwe
r gives Cubs fans hope."Did you see what Kerry Wood did?" is whispered from fan to fan. "What about Sammy Sosa?" "He is a freak!" "This is it!"
The father and son both sit, still waiting, as a Kevin Tapani pitching performance is wasted and Matt Karchner and Jeff Blauser hold back the angels coming to escort the Cub faithful.
"What the hell!" the son explains as his Cub hat slams to the floor. "How the sam-hill did those Diamondback fans sneak in after only a few minutes of waiting? This is Freakin Ridiculous!"
Its 2003 and the Cub fans are on their feet. The angels call their name, they see the streets lined with gold. The noise is deafening. And then, Darkness and silence, followed by tears and jeers.
"Why did that idiot fan touch the ball?" "Alex F'n Gonzalez!!!" "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
The boy breaks down, the father threatens to run out of the room. They will give up baseball for sure. This can't be happening. Most fans feel like their dog just got shot in front of their eyes.
More waiting and waiting. And the room gets less crowded every year. The Red Sox nation breaks down the pearly gates in 2004 after Babe Ruth finally gives them the key. The Cubs fan sit quietly, mourning as White Sox fans taunt them from behind the gates in 2005.
"Well, Dad its 2007. We got the hitting. Soriano, Lee, and Ramirez won't let us down."
"They sure better hit, we payed enough for them," exclaims the father.
"Well, at least we didn't have to get out of our uncomfortable chairs that are now conformed to our bodies," says the son. "We should have seen this coming. Losing to the no-name Diamondbacks!"
"I am getting old, and worry I might never see what is inside those gates," moans the father.
The waiting room gets darker and less crowded every year. Only Alex Rodriguez sits alone on the other side of the room. The smell never goes away and always gets worse. Those pearly gates look better every moment and Cub fans sit alone in Baseball Purgatory.
Pics
Dawson and Wood: www.chicagocubs.com
Jody Davis: www.agonyandivory.com
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