Sad Cat Hat Chat

The last Illinois coach to win the fabled Hat trophy was literally Tim Beckman, the state's most prominent doofus-coach.  Beckman did a heroic service to this particular blog as the first person I am aware of who went all-in unironically on the woeful rivalry between these two programs by printing what many prominent archaeologists recognize as the only anti-Northwestern rivalry merchandise ever produced, referred to Northwestern as "that school upstate" presumably because he was not quite able to wrap his head around Northwestern's northern and slightly eastern distance from Champaign, and, as we later learned from documents related to the lawsuit that led to his dismissal, made his injured players wear purple in order to show that they are weak.  

Former Illinois coach Tim Beckman dramatically demands The Hat

Beckman won in 2014 in the greatest game ever played between Northwestern and Illinois, a game between two five-win teams for a spot in the Heart of Dallas Bowl held in the dilapidated husk of the old Cotton Bowl.  Illinois fired Beckman a week before the season began the next season.  They've lost every Hat Game since.  Northwestern beat interim coach Bill Cubit in an extremely depressing game played at Soldier Field, and Lovie Smith went winless against the 'Cats in five tries.  For six years, the Hat has not graced the head of a single Illini.  The longest streak of wins in this series is seven, both done by Illinois; they beat Northwestern from 1979-1985 and in all contests between 1913-1927 that paused for the First World War with no games from 1916-1921 and for a reason that I have unable been able to discover between 1924 and 1926.  A Northwestern win here would also even the all-time record as Illinois currently leads 55-54-5.  These stakes are silly and sort of meaningless but they are important that, given Northwestern's dire reputation due to a few decades of being extremely bad, they would at least be as bad if not slightly less bad than perhaps the Big Ten's historically second-worst team.

But Evanston's emergency Potential Hat Loss sirens are flashing because Northwestern was once again throttled, this time at the hands of Purdue in a showdown at Wrigley Field that football experts have described as "extraordinarily silly."  The 'Cats held their own in the first half and looked like they could keep it close until Purdue discovered the One Simple Trick to defeating Northwestern by throwing a sideline route to Milton Wright (defensive coordinators hate it!) and the game turned into another boring rout.

The star of the game was not Wright or Aiden O'Connell or any Purdue player, but it was Wrigley Field, which was put into Football Mode by hastily constructing a slip 'n slide over the infield dirt.  Players lost their footing on almost every play in the Chaos Grass. On two occasions, the Purdue kicker lined up for a kickoff and completely ate shit; the sight of a Purdue player flying in the air like he has slipped on a cartoon banana peel was a very Purdue sight at the game, and the fact that his accidental onside kick bounced off a Wildcat and let the Boilermakers recover the ball can only be described as "brutally Northwestern."

 

pic.twitter.com/CO7IH73Dj2

— no context college football (@nocontextcfb) November 20, 2021

Northwestern is scheduled to play at least two more games at this wretched baseball diamond so hopefully they will either figure out how to install a surface that can be used for something other than the escape scene from a silent movie about bumbling art thieves or they just lean into it and just leave the infield dirt and pitchers' mound and bases on the field and let the players try to avoid them as the announcers say things like "well the bags are loaded" as players writhe around and grab their ankles near first, second, and third base.

In 2010, the Wrigley game was a college football event.  This was the only time I could possibly imagine ESPN's College Gameday, then at its peak as the official capital of college football, visiting a game between Illinois and Northwestern.  The game itself was a one-endzone debacle, featuring a miserable Northwestern team without an injured Dan Persa that gave up 300 yards rushing to Illinois's Mikel LeShoure.  By 20201, games at baseball stadiums have proliferated across college football.  This time the game was not nationally televised but featured on Big Ten Network Regional Action.  While the broadcast was unbearably hamfisted with baseball references, I did enjoy some of the shtick such as putting up the out of town Big Ten scores and playing Take Me Out to the Ballgame between the third and fourth quarter.  I doubt the game drew any additional curious onlookers. and those who did were treated to yet another desultory Northwestern loss on a sloppy field.  

There is only one game left for Northwestern to play before the season mercifully ends, and I can hardly bear the thought of it.

HAT HAT HAT HAT HAT HAT

The 2019 Hat Game, where a woeful two-win Northwestern team marched to what seemed to be certain doom against a frisky Illinois team that had upset Wisconsin earlier in that season, stands as one of the funniest and most satisfying Northwestern wins I have ever seen. The Hat was practically there on Lovie Smith's head, and Northwestern took it away by completely abandoning the passing game and just letting quarterback Andrew Marty run them over again and again in a truly disgusting, muddy, rain-filled slop in front of 29 people.  

To this day, I am not sure what happened with Lovie Smith.  Smith is the best Bears coach of my lifetime, and I am not sure how you go from getting a team with Rex Grossman as the quarterback to the Super Bowl to getting outfoxed by Mick McCall.  My theory is that Smith was not deranged enough for college football, where the coaching duties include becoming a complete maniac and abandoning oneself to madness.  Even as Smith tried to lean into lunacy by growing a legitimately insane-looking beard and losing to Northwestern five years in a row, he could not quite do it, especially in a rivalry game that I believe can be won only by the biggest Football Oaf on the field.

I believe that Smith would have been able to succeed if he didn't stop at the beard but added an additional Grizzled Accessory to his repertoire each season such as an eyepatch or a snake. 

Illinois has countered with college football's preeminent oaf, Bret Bielema.  Bielema, who traded a successful stint in Madison into a maddening run with Arkanas in the SEC and some NFL time with the Patriots and Giants, has returned to the Big Ten.  Bielema is not as splashy of a hire as Lovie Smith was, but he's an identifiable commodity, knows the Midwest and Big Ten, and is probably the exact type of coach who can get the Illini back to some bowl games once he recruits enough rectangular guys to run his preferred type of football.  

We're coming to you live from Bret Bielema's Car

But I am not interested in Bielema as a football coach.  I need to know that Illinois football is back in the hands of a Football Character that at least makes these games funny and interesting to write about.  He at least looks the part, somehow resembling a drawing of John Madden done by Gary Larson, and the internet is dying to show you pictures of his bare torso.  The SEC network found him to be so fascinating that they gave him a reality show in 2016 entitled "Being Bret Bielema," which consists mainly of people telling you how interesting Bielema is while watching him mumble quips into the camera and it is a grim reminder that Bielema's roguishly jolly uncle who is really into his Trans-Am affect is what counts as being a character in college football's grim ecosystem of joyless hardasses, scolds, and people who are shown on television every week screaming in a way that would be the most embarrassing public meltdown anyone reading this has ever had.  

There is no way a college football coach could ever come across as interesting in that sort of controlled media environment because the profession exclusively recruits personalities incapable of self-reflection or doubt.  Football coaches are almost always funniest when in the throes of their madness than in any canned press conference or documentary series.  Pat Fitzgerald is way funnier when he is seriously fuming about why he was upset about the disrespect shown to his program because Joey Galloway called his team a bunch of "Rece Davises" than Bret Bielema boomhauerishly muttering a tight five about why they don't serve egg nog all year into an SEC network camera because Fitzgerald has left his corporeal being and is vibrating at a pitch of indignation impossible for a normal non-football-brained human to comprehend.  I can think of nothing a football coach could do that would be funnier than asking Bob Diaco to patiently explain to the trophy store guy the exact specifications of the Civil conFLiCT trophy. 

I absolutely HATE to be that guy but UCF is using an imposter trophy. Compare the "vs" font and the diagonal lines. https://t.co/8LV5rAKq6g pic.twitter.com/zq0vxukGoq

— UConn football endurer (@NoEscalators) November 20, 2021

 The Civil conFLiCT trophy reappeared this year when UCF appeared to have it on the sidelines of their game this season, the plot has thickened where UCF appears to have commissioned an imposter "ringer" trophy specifically to mock UCONN as the original trophy appears to remain missing. Every single thing about exemplifies the very best of college football.

While Bret Bielema is a Television-Certified Football Character, he is unfortunately lacking in the most important department, an insane obsession with antagonizing the Northwestern football team.  Bielema and Fitzgerald are good friends, and Bielema seems more concerned about returning to the sidelines after missing Illinois's last game with Covid and seeing off his seniors than about winning the Hat.  Beckman's anti-Northwestern signs remain gathering dust in some forgotten supply closet.  

Illinois has had an up and down year, with four wins including upsets over Penn State and Minnesota as well as a loss to Rutgers.  A fifth win would put Illinois on the Bowl Standby List and cap a successful season as they return to respectability.  A Northwestern win would tie all of the records mentioned above and bring this lousy season to end on a good note, with Northwestern players jubilantly clutching the Hat and showing that when it comes to rivalry games you can Throw Out The Records.  

A road loss to a better Illinois team is not in and of itself disastrous in this slog of a season.  I don't know if this game will ever regain the heights it did in the heyday of the Beck Man, when his frenzied desire to possess the Hat gave every single game an irresistible subplot that culminated in him finally holding the Hat aloft triumphantly in Ryan Field cackling with a mad glee blissfully unaware that he was about to be catapulted out of college athletics for the foreseeable future.  Bielema, frankly, and to my eternal disappointment, does not really seem that into The Hat.  Perhaps the only way to get some more juice into this rivalry short of one of the programs hiring a person who is at least willing to act like a buffoonish Football Maniac for my amusement would be if these two teams were sort of good at the same time.  That appears to be less likely.

A Stovepipe Showdown

It took all season, but Northwestern finally encountered a team more practiced in the art of the fourth-quarter fade.  Michigan State and Northwestern played a fraught battle, with both teams desperately keeping the jaws of victory at bay until finally the Spartans gave into their self-destructive tendencies and allowed Northwestern to hang on for their eighth win of the season.

The Wildcats won the Heston Bowl to determine which fanbase would 
end up walking out of the stadium cackling with demented incredulity

Ibrahim Campbell had a phenomenal game, as he was seemingly around every big play on defense.  Freshman Superback Dan Vitale rumbled around, over, and through hapless defenders.  Michigan State had the opportunity to tie, but came up short.  I can't imagine that most State fans even flinched.  Their team has lost every possible break, been victimized by every questionable call (including a generous pass interference that helped the 'Cats seal the game), and watched week in and week out as the lead has slipped from their grasp.  Now, they have to go to Minnesota to try to qualify for some bowl that no one wants to go to.   To call the Spartans snake-bitten at this point is a gross understatement; their football team has been bitten, swallowed, and partially digested by the type of snake that stalks Ice Cube or battles a fake-looking computer generated octopus for what we can assume is some reason.

Meanwhile, the Wildcats turn to a far graver matter than tying their best record of Pat Fitzgerald's tenure and improving their bowl position.  The Illini are coming bearing the Hat and now is the time to demand its return to rightful place on all of our metaphorical heads.

HAT WEEK IS UPON US

When Tim Beckman took the job at Illinois, he made a point to stoke the flames of college football's least intense rivalry.  "You'll never see me wearing purple," Beckman said, throttling a plush Willie the Wildcat doll.  He claimed that he would only refer to Northwestern as "that school up north," baffling his players who gathered and brainstormed dozens of Big Ten, MAC, FCS, and Canadian schools before remembering that Northwestern existed.  With the exception of the time that Northwestern lost more than thirty conesecutive games and cemented its place as the worst major-conference program in the history of college football and then the fans tore down the goalposts in mock celebration, Tim Beckman's War on Northwestern is the funniest thing that has ever happened to Northwestern football.

I have no idea how to react to Beckman.  Apparently no one told him how the Big Ten works.  Teams generally deign to play Northwestern and assume an automatic win.  Most fans  condescendingly cheer for the Wildcats in good years like you would for a toddler that has managed to successfully remain quiet for upwards of 15 minutes.  Northwestern has been more good than bad for the past dozen years, but no team other than the conference's most wretched programs expects to lose to them.  Every October road game is Homecoming, as Northwestern is inevitably trotted out like a Carl Denham ape show for win-starved alumni. 

Denham expected to make millions with his best-selling Broadway revue
entitled "Take a Look at This Gigantic Ape, People"

Do any Illini fans actually care about beating Northwestern more than Michigan or Ohio State or Wisconsin?  Do any Illini fans sit around talking about their program's big wins over Northwestern?  Will any Illini fan take any solace in a win on Saturday to salvage their miserable season because it was against the Wildcats and not Indiana or Purdue or Minnesota?  Would any deranged Illini fan attempt to destroy The Rock with rock poison and then call into a Big Ten radio show to confess to his deeds because he is so inflamed with hatred for Northwestern and also using football as an outlet to explore the darkest realms of his psyche?

GIVE US OUR HAT BACK, BECK MAN

Despite the Illini's rather disastrous attempts at playing Big Ten football, Pat Fitzgerald is not taking the game lightly.  Do you think that Fitz mentioned throwing records out for the rivalry game?  “You can throw the records out,” Fitzgerald said to the surprise of no one. “You can throw everything out when you get into rivalry games."  He then unleashed a fleet of dump trucks that carted off every desk, chair, Bednarik trophy, paperclip, and inspirational fist-pumping manual from the Athletic Office and began attempting to locate the nearest cliff.

This space reserved for hat

For those of you not up on your American history, the hat trophy comes from an obscure American hat enthusiast named Abraham Lincoln, whose life is finally being brought to the attention of the American people through a major motion picture.  Lincoln, who won the presidency based on his length, wingspan, and executive upside, battled a brief period of unpopularity in the South.  The Hat is the third iteration of the Northwestern-Illinois rivalry trophy, and the first that has to do with presidential rather than stereotypical Native American iconography.  It is a good thing that Lincoln came from Illinois and not some shitty president.  Imagine if the two programs battled for Chester A. Arthur's muttonchops, William Henry Harrison's overcoat, or Franklin Pierce's bo staff.

Pierce defeated Winfield Scott in the 1852 presidential election, somehow pulling together a 
campaign that was able to beat a man nicknamed "Old Fuss and Feathers."  Pierce's campaign 
team put together the winning slogan "We pierced you in 1848, we shall Pierce you in 1852"
because nineteenth-century voters In 1856, Congress abolished the Giant Bird Race as a cornerstone 
of national election campaigns.  

Beckman faces a tough test in his rookie Hat Week.  Pat Fitzgerald has had several years to hone his inspirational Lincoln quotes and to pace the locker room in full nineteenth-century regalia to fire up the 'Cats.  Beckman may find Ron Zook's fake beard in a utility closet.  I am, of course, assuming that both football coaches conduct their pre-game rituals while dressed as Abraham Lincoln, because otherwise what is the point?  I normally don't condone fan movements to fire a coach, but if Beckman is not taunting the Wildcat sideline by wearing a novelty stovepipe hat for the duration of the game, he deserves to have someone register firehatlesstimebeckman.com, because that is unforgivable.

Meanwhile, in Evanston, this game is about more than just a hat: it is about revenge.  The Illini ran over the Wildcats in Wrigley Field.  Then, last year, vowel-hoarding quarterback Nathan Scheelhaase and receiver A.J. Jenkins lit up the Northwestern secondary en route to a gut-wrenching comeback win.  After beating Indiana, they then lost every single game on their schedule except for the Kraft Fight Hunger Bowl.  The Hat has not been in Evanston for two long years, years that Pat Fitzgerald has spent plotting an elaborate scheme of revenge so complex and diabolical that it defies description-- it involves look-alikes, the heir to the throne of Monaco, a carriage swap on the banks of the Elba, and an elaborate cipher that can be solved only by manipulating a suit of armor at the Art Institute to mimic a fist-pump, but largely it involves scoring at least one more point than the fighting Illini in Saturday's football game.

CLOSING THE SEASON

I began the season with modest expectations.  Instead, the Wildcats are 8-3, poised to go to a bowl game, and arguably something like nine combined minutes from an undefeated season and a berth in the Big Ten Championship game.  Though the losses have been the result of disappointing come-backs, the Wildcats have been good enough to win every game on their schedule.  This season has seen the return of the running game led by Venric Mark and Kain Colter, and defensive standouts Chi Chi Ariguzo, Ibrahim Campbell, Tyler Scott, and David Nwabusie. 

There is still one thing missing, though, and that is The Hat.  Each win has been gratifying this season, but none has come with a ridiculous trophy and bragging rights in a comically tepid rivalry.  Nothing is more gratifying than an Illini coach who seems determined to imbue this rivalry with an actual amount of football hate and so BYCTOM salutes you, Tim Beckman, for burning your purple clothes with the zeal of Professor Plum hastily destroying the evidence, for denigrating Northwestern by replacing its name with a ludicrous directional euphemism, for hanging a "No Northwestern" sign in the Illini locker room, for desperately trying to make something out of this game other than a precious hat mounted to a base.  And in the spirit of this renewed rivalry, I hope the Wildcats run the Illini out of the stadium and down I-57, with no win, no hat, and embittered to demand vengeance for next year and for all eternity.

Northwestern Football Is Exhilarating, Terrifying, and Bowl-Eligible

Northwestern is vincible.  We all knew that the Wildcats would face trouble once they got into the Big Ten schedule, and they lost both games against difficult opponents.  At the same time, they took care of business on the road in Minnesota and became bowl-eligible for the fifth consecutive season.  Northwestern had only qualified for six bowl games in the entire history of the program before Fitz took over, although bowl requirements were much stricter in the 1950s and 60s; you didn't have the Winston Cigarettes T-Zone Bowl, or the Coppertone Asscheeck Bowl, or the Score a Touchdown/Give 'em Trouble/Lick 'em Like You'll/Lick That Stubble/Burma-Shave Bowl.


Unlike today's bowls named for ridiculous corporations, earlier bowls were 
named after solid staple crops and advertised to people with the exciting prospect 
of a gigantic naked infant lounging menacingly in the stadium.  Note in both 
programs, the stadiums are full of people who seem to be perfectly content 
with their football game being converted into a crib for a baby the size of the 
Chrysler building with no control over its own bladder and no sense of remorse

Northwestern has played more or less the same game for several weeks.  The 'Cats go into halftime with the lead, then the coaching staff unveils its Sword of Damocles packages on offense and defense as we watch the lead evaporate.  During the fourth quarter, the best word to describe Northwestern's playing style is "besieged."  It's tremendously exiting.

Someone who actually knows something about numbers will probably see in one 
second that this graph doesn't really show anything, but I would counter that a falling 
blue line and rising red line correlate directly with the number of household objects 
that I am destroying with my forehead as I watch Northwestern games because that is 
the proper way to watch football.  That's why I bring a briefcase full of scrap wood 
with me when I watch a game at a bar, so I can quietly excuse myself after a big play 
and smash it into smithereens with my forehead in a parking lot

COME BACK!

Northwestern has allowed comebacks in all but two of its games this season-- the South Dakota steamrollering, and the actual Northwestern comeback against Vanderbilt.  The Commodores were so confused by the ordeal that they have refused to play Northwestern in football, canceling future dates with a letter to the athletic department instead of the traditional method of football scheduling, which involves sending a courier with a wax-sealed parchment or, at the very least, a falcon.  Fitz faxed the Vanderbilt Athletic Department 145 pages of ASCII pictures of a fist that, when bound together, create an animated fist-pump flip book.

The Wildcats managed to hold on until the Penn State game, when the offense disappeared in the second half.  This gave the Penn State offense the opportunity to unleash Matt McGloin, the flame-headed hobgoblin of Northwestern football.  McGloin and human battering ram Mike Zordich found new life against an exhausted Northwestern defense in the second half, took over the game, and rallied the Nittany Lions to victory.

Last week, Northwestern was unable to hold the lead against Nebraska, as Taylor Martinez led the Cornhuskers to two unanswered touchdowns.  Martinez has had two of his best games doing whatever it is he does that resembles passing against the Northwestern defense; the Wildcat coaching staff will be training DBs before next year's game by firing footballs at them from Napoleonic War cannons.
 
Allumez la mèche et trouvez le trou dans la zone de couverture

The comeback also happened while Northwestern was wearing its fancy new Big Game Black Alternates, which marks another loss in dandy duds.  These new uniforms featured a stenciled Wildcat on the helmet instead of the traditional sculpted N, although by the end of the game, the logo seemed to be yowling in frustration as the Huskers marched towards the with the aid of the inconsiderate forces of inevitability.

Northwestern's running game remains impressive.  Venric Mark is an electric back who terrorizes opposing special teams coordinators, and the option game with Colter is dangerous near the goal line.  The passing game, however, is still developing.  Northwestern averages just over 172 yards per game, good for dead last in the conference.  That's less than Wisconsin, a team with a playbook that consists of two plays labeled "give the ball to Ron Dayne," with the words "Ron Dayne" scratched out and replaced by whoever is the current running back.
 
The Badgers are trying to find an Aaron Gibson equivalent for their Replacement 
Daynes to run behind, but NCAA regulations currently prohibit tying two tackles 
together and letting them share the same pair of pants

Kolter has drifted back into his role from last year, working as an option quarterback and slot receiver.  Siemian is sent in on obvious passing downs.  Fitz plans on slowly rotating running backs, receivers, and backup linemen into the quarterback spot; one day the entire Wildcat offense will come off the sideline all yelling "I'M QUARTERBACK," which will confuse the defense.

THROW OUT THE RECORD BOOKS, SORT OF

Northwestern has a burgeoning quasi-rivalry with the Hawkeyes: we don't like them, and they are vaguely indifferent.  The Hawkeyes suffered some tough losses in their non-conference schedule, but are in the mix for the LEGENDS DIVISION.  Like Northwestern, they've struggled in the passing game as they learn Greg Davis's system.  It is Davis's sorry fate in life to be universally despised by fans of whatever team he happens to coach for-- crowds gather to chase him from town like a Reverse Pied Piper.  Their offense has been boosted by unheralded walk-on Mark Weisman, who has managed to stagger out of the Hawkeyes' gruesome human rights disaster at running back to the backfield, like the football version of William Brydon at Jalalabad. 
 
Weisman reports to practice after avoiding a diseased piece of dining hall turkey,
an out-of-control cement mixer, a crate of marbles spilled precariously around 
the quad, a pack of wild dogs, and a crazed pre-med student desperate to collect 
as many knee ligaments as he can before the authorities find him

Both teams see this as a crucial and winnable game.  The game will be played at Ryan Field, and I expect a supportive crowd of 30,000 Nebraska fans who will be staying in Evanston as fans in residence after winning a grant from the Northwestern Department of Football Culture.  Like all Northwestern games, this will probably come down to the last minute because I picked the wrong football season to stop sniffing glue.

FUCK IT DUDE, LET'S GO BOWLING

This season was supposed to be a rebuilding year.  Instead, we've seen the emergence of exciting young players on defense, such as Chi Chi Ariguzo and NickVan Hoose, and Venric Mark is as dynamic a playmaker as the Wildcats have ever had.  Northwestern has qualified for a bowl game, and the Big Ten's new status as a national joke has kept them in the LEGENDS DIVISION title hunt, where a championship will allow them to take their place in the pantheon of LEGENDS with the Legends of the Fall, Hercules's Legendary Journeys, and the Legends of the Hidden Temple.  It is important to keep that in mind as the 'Cats dangle precariously from another fourth quarter cliff.   And Northwestern is in position for an eight or even a nine win season, in position to go to a marginally less crappy bowl, and in position to wrench The Hat off of Tim Beckman's head and parade it in victory down Sheridan Road.  Northwestern and Iowa may not have a fancy rivalry trophy, but they do have the opportunity to ruin each other's season, and that may be the sweetest trophy of them all.

Actually, it is not, it is still the hat, give us our damn hat back.