Showing posts with label Gratuitous Mustache Reference. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gratuitous Mustache Reference. Show all posts

Friday, November 16, 2012

There are No Fists Pumping in Mudvanston

Good gravy, it happened again.  Northwestern fans had already steeled ourselves for the inevitable fourth-quarter comeback; those are old hat by now, and we face them with the steely resolve of a circus freak show man preparing to receive an cannonball to the solar plexus or the late Crocodile Hunter riling up a poisonous reptile and letting it lunge its fangs near his unprotected khaki crotch.
Another day at the office for Frank "Cannonball" Richards.  According to his 
Wikipedia page, "Richards began by letting people (including heavyweight 
champion Jack Dempsey) punch him in the gut. He then progressed to letting 
people jump on his belly, being struck by a two-by-four, being struck by a 
sledgehammer, and finally being shot by a 104-lb. (47 kg) cannonball from a 
spring-loaded 12 ft. (4 m) cannon," and then presumably finished the day by 
watching Northwestern try to hold a lead in the fourth quarter.

All Northwestern had to do to walk out of the Enormous House with a rare victory was to hold on for less than 20 seconds and prevent the ball from floating 30 yards in the air, getting batted by the defender, and having Roy Roundtree somehow pluck it out of the air with one hand while falling to the turf.  College football is an engine of cruelty.

THE RAMIFICATIONS OF A LOSS

Another close loss means for agony for Northwestern fans, who have witnessed the third frustrating collapse of the season.  The sour ending overshadowed a stellar offensive performance against a tough defense.  The offensive line opened holes for Mark, Colter zipped around befuddled Michigan defenders who actually expected him to occasionally pass, and Siemian came in led an impressive drive at the end of the half.  Even Demetrius Dugar, who had a tough game, managed to redeem himself with a crucial late-game interception.

What does the loss mean?  The Wildcats were unlikely to compete for the divisional crown; that dream died as Penn State and Nebraska receivers skipped merrily along through the Northwestern secondary in the dreaded fourth quarter.  It affects what bowl they go to, although one Pizza City is as good as another in my book, and the 'Cats will still be at the mercy of rapacious and unaccountable bowl representatives who tend to favor teams with more than four dozen alumni.  The most tragic circumstance of the defeat was missing the opportunity to ruin the afternoon for a large number of Michigan fans, which is one of the most noble goals for Big Ten Teams to aspire to.

The lack of stakes salves the sting a bit.  A Northwestern fan for the past dozen years has already seen the Wildcats lose a shot at the Rose Bowl in a barren Iowan hellscape, miss a bowl game after inciting the rage of Timmy Chang by throwing him at a sideline bench, miss the NCAA basketball tournament in the most heart-rending way possible, and literally every single thing that has happened to Northwestern in a bowl game since the dawning of the new millennium.  This includes two overtime losses, allowing Bowling Green to come back, and surrendering a 22-0 first-quarter lead which also included giving up two onside kick returns to the same fucking guy because the whole blowing a 22 point lead thing wasn't enough and it would have been too much for the game to end with 25 laterals or a hastily-added clause to the NCAA rulebook that prevents Northwestern from playing offense or a blimp attack or some sort of disembodied hand rising up from the turf at Sun Bowl Stadium and sacking Brett Basanez then doing some sort of elaborate sack dance with its claws or fingers.
 
The disembodied sacking hand may be similar to the 
one adorning Jim Varney's head in this cinema classic.  
The fact that the DVD cover has a picture of Varney 
dressed as Ernest as the main selling point is probably 
the most entertaining thing about this movie

On the other hand, cheer up, Gloom Beams!  The Northwestern University Wildcat Football team is 7-3, is definitely going to a bowl game, and still has a shot at nine wins.  We still get to watch Colter and Mark run faster than other people while Pat Fitzgerald punches the legions of invisible antagonists that torment him on the sidelines.  Maybe we won't get Brian Griese this week.  Let us talk ourselves off the ledge before getting onto another one as the 'Cats can potentially cling to another shrinking lead against the only team in the Big Ten more committed to destroying the lives of its benighted fanbase.

SPARTY?  YES!

When I saw Northwestern clinging grimly to a lead with 18 seconds left, my mind immediately flashed back to the 2001 Northwestern-Michigan State game, one of the most insane endings to a college football game I've ever seen.  For the sake of those unfamiliar with Northwestern football lore and people google image searching for pictures of Jim Varney in both Ernest and non-Ernest iterations, this is what happened: Northwestern scored a go-ahead touchdown in the final minute to go up four.  With 29 seconds on the clock, Northwestern kicked off, determined to hold off  any last-minute shenanigans from the Spartan offense.  They didn't get the chance.  Herb Haygood housed the kickoff, then went into the stands and punched every Northwestern fan in the gut.  But State got a celebration penalty and the 'Cats blocked the extra point to keep the lead to two.  And with sixteen seconds left, the Wildcats put the ball in the hands of folk legend Zak Kustok.

Kustok, a nine-foot colossus who had come to Northwestern on a chariot pulled by bears, called for the ball.  He took off to the right, setting off minor tremors, then cocked his arm and launched the ball to John Schwiegert, who somehow managed to hold on despite the heat from the friction of a Kustok heave traveling through Earth's atmosphere.  They set up a David Wasielewski field goal, and he nailed it for a 25-24 win. 

The most improbable thing about that game is that the major people involved 
were named Herb Haygood, Zak Kustok, John Schwiegert, and David Wasielewski, 
an unparalleled confluence of Midwestern football names

Michigan State hosts Northwestern in an attempt to salvage the wreckage of its season.  Pundits had picked the Spartans as a Big Ten title contender; they are currently struggling to become bowl eligible.  Like Northwestern, Michigan State seems to have received a grant from the American Heart Institute to try to induce cardiac arrest in anyone who witnesses its grim works.  With the exception of a shellacking at the hands of the Fighting Irish, who are (cringe) undefeated BCS title contenders, the Spartans have lost every game in agonizing fashion by less than 5 points. These include a one-point loss to Ohio State, an overtime loss to the hapless Hawkeyes, and another collapse gifted to probable division champions Nebraska.

Somebody has to win this game.  Northwestern is eager to move past last week's loss and put away a Big Ten opponent.  Michigan State desperately needs a victory to qualify for a humiliating consolation bowl berth in Pizza City, Potato Town, or the Bowl Filled with Bitter Tears.  I predict that the fourth quarter will consist of a series of Alphonse and Gaston-style attempts to give the game to the other team, which will end when the ball is fumbled for 25 consecutive minutes from endzone to endzone with no one able to fall on it during the dying minutes of the 12th overtime period and the fans inside form rival tribes and begin organizing raids on the enemy-controlled popcorn and elephant-ear infrastructure.
 
A simulation of the ending of the Northwestern-Michigan State game

THE IRON DUKE

In 1952, the 18th Duke of Alburquerque achieved his dream of racing in Britain's Grand National Steeplechase.  His horse threw him and he broke a vertebrae.  Undaunted, he saddled up again in 1963, and again fell from his horse.  The Duke endured.  He did not seem to let what was either a criminally inadequate measure of horsemanship or possibly an uncanny ability to communicate hateful insults to horses that caused them to violently toss him from their back from stopping him.  His compatriots called him the "Iron Duke" for his propensity to endure equine injury, which is better than the other Spanish Iron Duke, who earned his nickname by acting like a ruthless Habsburg ogre in the Low Countries during the sixteenth century.  In 1976, the British steeplechase people finally barred him from competition because a bunch of horses trampled him, broke many of his bones, and rendered him comatose.    

The Duke of Alburquerque was an impressive Spanish pedigree.  Numerous Dukes had served as Viceroys of New Spain in the seventeenth century.


This was all a thinly-described excuse to post this picture 
of the Eighth Duke of Alburquerque because that mustache 
is not physically possible.  It may also interest you to 
learn that someone tried to assassinate him with a sword 
because that kind of facial hair increases the risk of 
assassination by swashbuckling by 80%

 WHY DO THEY HAVE TO PLAY IN THAT STUPID GLOVE STATE AGAIN

The Wildcats have to travel to Michigan again for another tough road game.  The Spartans may have drifted from their title hopes, but they still have a dangerous defense and Le'Veon Bell.  They also have nothing to lose.  Northwestern could be their most impressive win since the opener against Boise State.  Northwestern wants to bank another win before the critical showdown to restore The Hat to its rightful scalp.  Both teams are attempting to emulate the Iron Duke by mounting their horses, throwing caution to the wind, and causing their fans grievous internal injuries as they attempt to weather another 60 minutes of Big Ten LEGENDS Division action.  I couldn't possibly be more excited and also I am vomiting internal organs.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Northwestern Basketball In This, The Best of Possible Worlds

The most unlikely of basketball seasons is coming to its likeliest conclusion. For the past month, Northwestern basketball fans have been hunkered down in bunkers, counting their RPIs, reading Skip Myslenski, and occasionally sending the neighborhood children out for supplies of cigarettes, adding machine tape, and boxes of green visors in order to figure out if this was the year that Northwestern was going to make the NCAA tournament.

Northwestern plans its road to the Sweet
Sixteen


From the improbable upsets against mediocre major conference teams and a 10-1 non-conference record to the victories over Purdue and Illinois, to the crushing loss against Penn State, to say that the season has been a roller-coaster is to reach one too many times into the box of sports cliches that I keep in my sports blog bindle (I also have boxes for run-on sentences, seemingly unending parenthetical asides, and one labeled "gratuitous mustache reference"). Instead, the best comparison for the season is like accidentally walking into a rough dockside tavern and wondering how long it will take between ordering a beer and gaining pool cue as a permanent new appendage or finding an even rougher dock where Journey hang out and make you stare uncomfortably at the work of Steve Perry's periodontist. After long reflection, I've created a handy chart of Northwestern's season in pictorial form (Fig 1A):

Fig. 1A

So it appears that, barring a miraculous run in the Big Ten tournament (the 19th century political equivalent of a Henry Clay presidential run) Northwestern will experience the NCAA Tournament in the traditional way of watching on television until unable to tolerate a specific level of Vitale. Although it still is a bitter feeling to get as close as Northwestern ever has to the NCAAs and falter, fans should celebrate a remarkable season and chance to do some damage in the NIT. With Coble's return and the emergence of Crawford, Shurna, and Mirkovic, Wildcat fans should really look to next year for the inevitable heartbreaking disappointment as somehow things don't click for a team that could go down as Northwestern's best.

A FRESH PERSPECTIVE

The New York Times's Chicago News Co-operative scores again, this time with James Warren's take on Illinois and Chicago corruption. Warren, the former managing editor of the Trib and current publisher of the Reader, among other gigs, has a wonderful perspective on the state's maintenance of what I would describe as Hamburlgar democracy:
“Compare the corruption of an alderman who takes a few thousand dollars from a developer to the corruption of Abdul Qadeer Khan, the head of the Pakistan nuclear program, going around the world, selling atomic bomb technology to Libya, North Korea and Iran to make a buck,” said Moisés Naím, editor of Foreign Policy magazine and a former Venezuelan trade minister who writes about the ravaging impact of corruption worldwide. “Look at the differing scale of consequences.”
Warren offers a fresh perspective by pointing out that Illinois is a shining beacon of clean government, non-existent graft, and completely justified bulldozings when compared to organizations such as international drug traffickers, Russian robber barons, Somali pirates, and the state of Florida.

Sample posters for Illinois residents hoping to throw an at least
we're not as corrupt as party in their homes or places of business


This article should be seen as a proper throwing of the gauntlet, and I urge residents to vote on the next Illinois governor or Cook County trash commissioner based on whether he or she could top Mobutu, who began all newscasts with an image of him descending from the clouds, probably with a giant canvas sack of celestial plunder to deposit in his Swiss bank account.

DINKING THE HINK

Try as they might, no modern politician could pull off graft, chicanery, bribery, and other sordid manipulation of the political system for their own gain with more panache than a nineteenth century Chicago alderman. The cabal of "Gray Wolves" ran Chicago's Levee district in a selfless attempt to reach the Platonic ideal of municipal corruption. So confident were they in their shiftless feudalism that they brazenly adopted nicknames such as "Bathhouse John" and "Hinky Dink" from the Chicago Bureau of Disreputable Nicknames or Potential Harlem Globetrotter Aliases.

Gray Wolves "Bathhouse" John Coughlin and
Michael "Hinky Dink" Kenna in their watch-
chain, boater, cigar-chomp pinstripes, not to be
confused with Silver Foxes and their chain-smoke
Kansas flashdance ass-pants


Coughlin and Kenna owned Chicago's First Ward. Bathhouse John, the more flamboyant of the two, made speeches and composed bawdy lyrics for their decadent First Ward Ball thrown at the Chicago coliseum for the variegated criminal types in their constituency. Hinky Dink, meanwhile, tended to his fantastically named tavern called the Workingman's Exchange from whence he ran his innovative booze for votes program targeted at the local hobory. But this article from Time Magazine eulogizing his reign as he chose to forgo reelection in 1942 sums it up far better than I can:
For a nickel The Hink sold schooners as big as buckets to bums, roustabouts, prostitutes. They could always put the bite on him for two bits; he let the bums sleep in the back room. Once in a while he would go back to touch them on the head. He wanted to make sure they were not dead...On election days they voted as Hinky Dink wanted.

Hinky Dink and Bathhouse John ran an area of Chicago known as "The Levee," an area of the city rife with saloons, houses of ill repute, gambling, gangsters, book-makers, back-alley surgeons, trick handshakes, false mustaches, and unprovoked purple nurpling. Along with Johnny Powers of the 19th Ward, they became experts in "boodling," or basically awarding the franchise to operate public utilities to men who had adequately bribed them. In one case, they even invented a company called Ogden Gas in order to force the actual franchise holder to buy up its shares, which is pretty much the municipal corruption version of swashbuckling.

John Coughlin ready for ordinary boodling and preparing for the Odgen Gas
deal


Both Bathhouse John and Hinky Dink never got in much trouble for their showboating, sticky-fingered style of local government. Though their legacy lives on in clout and the old Chicago handshake which is like a regular handshake except that the recipient ends up with either a fistful of cash or nuclear green relish product, their milquetoast, unhatted prodigal offspring lack that Sandburgian swagger that made corruption as much a part of the fabric of old time Chicago as the constant stench of entrails.

PLAYING OUT THE STRING

With very little left to play for other than an NIT Home Game and some Big Ten Tournament momentum, Northwestern fans are suffering from a tournament hangover tantamount to waking up in the Levee, possibly with a knife as a new appendage in the ribs. On the other hand, the Cubs are preparing to do more lasting damage to Chicago's psyche than more than a century of graft-induced inefficiency by showing up to Spring Training. You can count on BYCTOM to keep you abreast of these and other crucial sporting news items with sporadic updates on nothing in particular.