Crimson Homecoming

WRIGLEY FIELD- Wrigley Field was red. It was strange to see so much red in the stands at Wrigley like the entire park had been taken over by Jim Edmonds cosplayers. Northwestern had chosen this venue and this opponent for its homecoming and the result was a stadium full of Ohio State fans with only tiny smidgens of purple visible. The effect was surreal: the video board cues and music and stadium art all had the markings of a Northwestern home game played to absolutely no one cheering for the Wildcats. They brought out the lacrosse team. They brought out a football team that went to a bowl game. They brought out Northwestern legend Corey Wootton to sing Take Me Out To The Ballgame at the beginning of the fourth quarter. DJ Commando was there. No one in the stands knew who any of these people were and instead clamored around some face-painted helmet man. 

The red in the stands in Wrigley made it seem like the team had been invaded by an army of Scotts Spezio

And yet, despite the farcical, surrendered homecoming, I found the setting to be kind of cool. I can’t help it. As a person with fatal Cubs fan poisoning, I am an easy mark for Wrigley Field, and this was my first time experiencing Northwestern football there. On a comfortably gray day, with the ivy showing its autumn rust and the scoreboard awkwardly transformed for football purposes, Wrigley was a fun, novel setting for the game. Somehow, the various sinkholes and turf pits that had pockmarked the field during previous years' Wrigley games seemed less of a problem this year and what unfolded was shockingly a relatively normal football game.

Northwestern fans may have been overwhelmingly outnumbered, but for much of the early part of the game it meant getting to examine a gallery of clenched jaws as sour-faced Ohio State fans grimaced through the first quarter. Northwestern held Ohio State scoreless in the first quarter then took a lead early in the second quarter. This brought to mind the last meeting between these two team where a rain storm and gale force winds stymied the Buckeye offense and allowed Northwestern to hold them to a tie all the way to halftime, leading to one of the happiest sights in football: thousands of Ohio State fans sitting wet and miserable in the rusted Ryan Field stands unable to understand what was happening to them.  For a second, even though I knew how unlikely it would be, I allowed myself to believe, to briefly ponder the logistics of storming Wrigley Field and carrying the goalposts into Belmont Harbor. 

This year also marked the 20th anniversary of Northwestern's last victory over Ohio State when Noah Herron broke the Buckeyes' hearts and sent a stadium full of Buckeye fans home in complete disbelief.

By nature I am not a very optimistic person, especially when it comes to sporting events. Part of it is a way of handling anxiety, attempting to feel some element of control from a sport I am not playing by pretending I have some idea what’s going to happen when listing what seem to me like inevitable disaster scenarios. Part of it comes from the expertise one gains from watching a sports team all season and coming to know the teams' exact weaknesses. Part of it also comes from a way to brace myself against disappointment and that by constantly prophesying doom I can hope to somehow shield myself from the awful feeling of not only disappointment but feeling stupid and gullible when I've allowed myself to believe and then it does not work out, a situation that is wholly unique to sports and has nothing to do with recent news events. Being a pessimistic curmudgeon doesn’t actually make any of this feel better and only makes me somehow even more annoying, but it doesn’t feel like that in the moment.

Northwestern's best case scenario right now is sneaking into a bowl by an academic technicality, Ohio State is the second-ranked team in the country gunning for a national championship, and eventually the game looked like that. But for about 25 minutes of real time, the Ohio State fans who filled Wrigley Field to the brim looked absolutely disgusted down 7-0 to a team that they probably were not sure is even in the Big Ten. The end, however, came quickly for the ‘Cats. Northwestern had to play a perfect game to have a shot against the Buckeyes, but they mangled a snap on a punt, a tragic play because based on their offensive output the 2024 Northwestern Wildcats should have absolute mastery of the punt play. After about three minutes elapsed in the second quarter, pretty much nothing else positive happened for the Wildcats, and Ohio State romped to an easy victory,

And so, in this Northwestern homecoming game, the Ohio State fans stayed and cheered. They brought out W flags, which as a Cubs fan finally found me on the other end of how annoying that is. They never doubted for a moment that their team would clobber the 'Cats and they escaped unscathed for a titanic showdown with Somehow Indiana. The 'Cats meanwhile continue to limp on through the rest of the schedule with their bowl hopes on life support. But fortunately what seemed like an impossible combination of games late in November looks slightly less daunting because what lies ahead in Ann Arbor is far less scary than it appeared last year.

POSSIBILITIES IN MICHIGAN

The Michigan Wolverines are not going to win a national championship this year. Last year's team weathered innumerable scandals from a Jim Harbaugh hamburgers suspension to a ridiculous espionage saga that involved accusations of wet work on the sidelines of Central Michigan, a suspicious vacuum repair venture, and several court injunctions on the way to what football scholars are calling the most annoying national championship of the twenty-first century. Michigan fans tend to see themselves as the protagonists of college football and they got the entire spotlight last year where they got to see their team kill everyone in their path but also got be extremely aggrieved and litigious the entire time, which I imagine was something like a dream scenario for them. On the other hand, no one was happier about this than Northwestern's administration because the spotlight on the Michigan Spying Doofus kept its program's scandals, which were far worse than anything Michigan did, in the shadows.

The most indelible image of the 2023 college football season

But the 2024 team is not a fearsome national championship squad. Michigan is vulnerable in ways they have not been in a decade, a five-win team that needs a win against Northwestern just to qualify for what is described in college football circles as a Northwestern-style bowl game. Harbaugh, pursued by the NCAA's elite squad of violation-spotters, has fled to the NFL along with numerous key players from last-year's squad. While Michigan still has a tough defense and running game, their passing game has gone away. A year after winning it all, Michigan football has become something unimaginable: a Big Ten West team. What we're looking at here is Fancy Iowa. And now Michigan is a Big Ten West team staring down the barrel of a rock fight against a weaker opponent that also is clawing away for the right to play in the Buffalo Jim's Tailgate Injury Tables Bowl. Michigan this season is in a hall of mirrors and just seeing a bunch of Northwestern reflected back at them.

Of course, Michigan remains heavily favored. Northwestern has already faced real Iowa and could do nothing against them and also faltered against Wisconsin, an even lesser version of this team. The Wildcat offense has trouble stringing long drives together, and the defense can only hold out for so long. The one bright spot from the Ohio State game was the return of Bryce Kirtz, who shares an almost mystical connection with Jack Lausch and helped the 'Cats move the ball against a fearsome Buckeye defense. Enough bombs to Kirtz, a few turnovers, and some gritty runs by Lasuch and Cam Porter could keep the 'Cats in this long enough to slop their way to a rare victory against Michigan. It would be a shame to squander the opportunity because it is unlikely that Michigan will be this bad again.

A win here would immediately make Northwestern viable for a bullshit bowl sneak-in and turn the Illinois game into a Bowl Qualification Hat Showdown. A loss ends any hope for a normal bowl season. Northwestern football has a singular power over other schools in the Big Ten because no team at any point believes they can lose to them. But this season, with Northwestern struggling in the Enormous Ten, the possibility for this particular Northwestern team to beat Michigan no matter how diminished they might be, would be an incredible opportunity to train the catastrophic You Lost To Northwestern weapon on Ann Arbor.

MICHIGAN STADIUM, ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN

After the construction of Michigan's colossal new stadium in 1927, university authorities feared that they could have trouble filling it. So to drum up interest, they released a radio adventure serial set in and around the stadium filled with intrigue and plots against the beloved local team foiled weekly by the intrepid Conrad Mustangs. Today, here the script from an episode taken from the Michigan Radio Archive.

Note: None of the things I wrote about above are true. I made it all up. It is fiction. For entertainment purposes. Michigan fans, please do not email me about Historical Inaccuracies.

BIG MESS AT THE BIG HOUSE: EPISODE 14: A SINISTER UNIFORM CONUNDRUM

ANNOUNCER: Tonight’s broadcast of Big Mess at the Big House: A Conrad Mustangs Adventure is brought to you by Vance Crayfish’s Leaded Paints. No paint is more brilliant, more beautiful, and more bold than Vance Crayfish’s. Your neighbors and friends will be stunned by the bright colors of your walls. Other paints are dull and faded because they do not provide the American consumer with the lead he deserves. Vance Crayfish’s patented formula has nearly 40% more lead than all other paints available. Write to Vance Crayfish, 432 Rinsdow Ave., Moth, Ohio. Today’s program is also sponsored by hogs. Next time you have pork, insist on hogs.

And now, here he is, the man of a dozen faces, the fearless fighter for freedom and football, your hero Conrad Mustangs in another thrilling adventure. Last week, Mustangs outwitted the hoodlums and punch-merchants of the dangerous Maroon Syndicate by replacing their cigars with ones tainted with undetectable gut-tonics. These blighted belvederes put these toughs in such a gastric distress that they were forced to flee the Big House for an outhouse, and Mustangs was given the Key to the City while his enemies groaned out a stomach symphony. But there are sinister forces afoot in the shadow of the old stadium who have it out for the Wolverines.

We start our story with two mysterious figures having a clandestine meeting outside Michigan Stadium.

(sound effect: the sound of someone getting a sap to the bean attained using a baseball thrown into a pile of burlap sacks and person yelling HURGH and the sound of someone getting dragged away by putting a cantaloupe in one of the burlap sacks and dragging it across a table)
SHADOWY FIGURE ONE(whispering): Hurry up you nitwit! Change into this sap’s clothes while he’s out of it.
SHADOWY FIGURE TWO: The hat doesn’t fit.
SHADOWY FIGURE ONE: Well, we didn’t have time to wait and find someone coming who had a noggin as gigantic as yours. It would take us all day. You must be a world record holder with that cranium. Just jam it on. Here. (sound effect: a hat being pulled over a large head using a paper sack being pulled over a basketball).
SHADOWY FIGURE TWO: Ow!
SHADOWY FIGURE ONE: Just shut your kisser or I’ll wax you in the brainpan. Hurry up, grab those football uniforms and bring the ones we brought in. But don’t manhandle them with those mitts. I was told not to touch them without gloves. We need everything to go perfect for the big game Saturday. Then those Wolverines are in for the surprise of their lives. Ha ha ha ha.
SHADOWY FIGURE TWO: Haw haw haw haw haw
SHADOWY FIGURE ONE: You don’t even know what you’re laughing at you ox.

ANNOUNCER: Meanwhile inside the bowels of the stadium, Conrad Mustangs meets with Coach Van Roast in his office.

COACH VAN ROAST: I say, Mustangs, that Maroon Gang really had us in the soup there. Good thing we had you around to give them the what for with those stogies.
MUSTANGS: Well, it is all in a day’s work. We have to remain vigilant. As you know, the enemies of Michigan football are everywhere and they will stop at nothing to foil our exploits on the field.
COACH VAN ROAST: That’s right. There are plots from crackpots and eggheads constantly popping up against our lads to prevent them from winning fair and square, the Michigan way. Mustangs, tell me, with a big game coming up this week, have you seen anything hinky?
MUSTANGS: My network of street urchins informants have been telling me that something strange might be going on at Cooley Technical High School so I disguised myself as a rough-back named Quig Pomona and infiltrated their game.
COACH VAN ROAST: Did you find out anything?
MUSTANGS: Well, we were down 4-2 in the final quarter so I told the lads to dig deep and execute the headbutt dive. Coach, we pummeled those kids into fields behind the school and got the winning score and afterwards we went out to celebrate at the meat stand. But then Moose Frangella and his Red Street Boys came by looking for a fracas. Things got heated very quickly and I had to give Little Jake Mastodan the old one-two right in the breadbasket and then I beat my feet right out of there.
COACH VAN ROAST: Troubling. But did you find anything out about the game?
MUSTANGS: Yes, we’re going to thrash Johnson High on the field next week after we slapped them into next Sunday at that meat stand donnybrook.
COACH VAN ROAST: No, did you find any plots against Michigan before the big game?
MUSTANGS: Oh yes. Michigan football. No. Not yet. But I know as we speak an unknown enemy is moving among us, Coach.

ANNOUNCER: And Mustangs is right. For even as we speak, there are evil forces afoot that are threatening your beloved Wolverines. 

(Sound effect: thunder and lightning, rain steadily rattling off a rooftop)
SINISTER MAN: Did you switch the uniforms?
SHADOWY FIGURE ONE: Yes, no thanks to this lunkhead here.
SHADOWY FIGURE TWO: Hey! I did my job, I socked him good.
SINISTER MAN: You know what they say about a bad workman and his tools. But excellent. Years of research and finally, a way for toad venom to soak into a garment, putting the victims into a stupor, and those Wolverines will finally be exposed for the bilious worms they are.
SHADOWY FIGURE ONE: And a job well done by us. Which brings us to our arrangement. Ingots, as we discussed.
SINISTER MAN: This is a delicate manner. I have had to move with great caution because I am not just an ordinary criminal mastermind. No, you have been hired by Dr. Jacopo Manbanner, the Chairman of the Big Ten Conference. My goal is to destroy the Michigan Wolverines whom I don’t like because their university president once snubbed me viciously at the All Universities Toasting Fête.
(sound effect: organ playing a diminished chord)
SHADOWY FIGURE ONE: That is a tremendous story, Professor. But we want our money.
(sound effect: cocking of a revolver)
(sound effect: the BLATT BLATT of a heavy liquid hitting someone in the face achieved by dropping marmalade from great height onto an old casserole.)
SHADOWY FIGURE ONE: Argh! My face!
DR. JACOPO MANBANNER: That’s a double dose of my toad venom. By my calculations, you have about thirty seconds before your mind starts to take you on a journey to realms of insanity from which you’ll never return.
SHADOWY FIGURE TWO: Boss, did he just say he’s turning us into toads?
SHADOWY FIGURE ONE: No, you lugnut. We’re going to fall into a reverie of madness. Say, why do you now have two enormous heads?

ANNOUNCER: Our hero Mustangs has not yet uncovered the sinister plot against Michigan football. But he is undaunted and trying. We now find him in a nest of iniquity, a speakeasy where Mustangs is wearing a false nose and large, bushy mustaches while he tries to get a whiff of a plot while mingling with the dregs of the Ann Arbor criminal underground
(sound effect: hot jazz music blaring)
(sound effect: a boisterous crowd buzzing and shouting and clinking glasses and occasionally shouts of HUZZAH or “Boatman’s Uncle”

MUSTANGS (as his alter ego Trent Ghent): Haha the festivities are ripping. Sir please give me an alcohol, and make it extra illegal. Hey fella. As you can tell by this alcohol, I love breaking the law. Do you know of any criminal plots against Michigan football?
MAN AT SPEAKEASY: Get away from me!
MUSTANGS: A tough nut. Maybe one of these dames can tell me something. It’s time to cut a rug. Ladies, may I? No? You’re waiting for Moose? Oh I understand. Tell me, is he involved in any illegal plans to cost Michigan the Big Game? Ok, I’ll scram. I’m scramming.
(sound effect: shoes running away gotten by playing a coconut with drum sticks)
MUSTANGS: You, mister. You look like a strapping young fellow. In fact, you’re someone I have in mind for my criminal operation targeting Michigan football. Would you like to help? Or maybe you’re already in some sort of anti-Wolverine scheme that I can join.
ANOTHER MAN AT SPEAKEASY: Mustangs.
MUSTANGS: I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m the tool and die magnate Trent Ghent.
ANOTHER MAN AT SPEAKEASY: Mustangs,, cut the malarkey. I’m working for you! I’ve been working this room for weeks. You don’t recognize me? You called me your brightest bean!
MUSTANGS: Of course. Jimmy The Neck. This, eh, was a test. And you passed most admirably. Do you have any leads?
JIMMY THE NECK: No. But I keep hearing something about toads.
MUSTANGS: Preposterous!
JIMMY THE NECK: I thought so. But it keeps coming up. Every underground football criminal has been saying all sorts of nutty things but they all somehow involve toads.

ANNOUNCER: And so our hero Conrad Mustangs goes to his famous Disguise Closet this time for a false beard, a bright green suit, and some alligator shoes. His investigations have taken him to Ann Arbor’s reptile district, a bazaar of boa constrictors, a plethora of pythons, a variety of vipers.
(Sounds effects: lizard noises that come from the hissing from air being let out of a bicycle tire, voices periodically shouting “Turtles! Iguañas!” in the distance.

MUSTANGS: Toads?
VENDOR: Snakes only. Move along.
MUSTANGS: Toads?
ANOTHER VENDOR: Get out of here before I call in the police.
MUSTANGS: Toads?
A THIRD VENDOR: (loudly) I’ve never sold a toad here in my life. Those are illegal. (softly) You shouldn’t be that brazen. There are eyes everywhere. Come in, and be quick. (sound effect: opening and closing a door)
THIRD VENDOR: What makes a man like you in the market for a toad?
MUSTANGS (affecting a terrible and unplaceable foreign accent): Pleased to meet you. My name is J. Konstantin Kroboshkin, toad fancier, enthusiast, scholar.
VENDOR: You certainly do not appear acquainted with the toad market here.
MUSTANGS: (still doing the accent but it’s wobbling like a prizefighter who has been battered about the head for thirteen rounds) Sir, you must forgive. I am normally very active in the market overseas. Baku, Tashkent. Bratislava. These American restrictions are troubling. Land of the free, you say. Not in terms of toad.
VENDOR: You can call me Mr. Glenavery Hiss. What sorts of toads are you looking for Mr. Kroboshkin?
MUSTANGS: Exotic. Dangerous. What sorts of toads typically move through this market?
MR. HISS: Funny you should ask that. We’ve had a large uptick in venomous toads from South America. Big buyers.
MUSTANGS: Interesting. What can I do to get my hands on one of them? Do you have another shipment coming in soon?
MR. HISS: Let me check my ledger. (sound effect, rustling around in drawer recorded from rustling around in a drawer.)
(sound effect: a revolver cocking)
MR. HISS: Mr. Kroboshkin, your inquiries are a bit bold. You hardly seem to be a toad man at all. What are you, police? Customs? Out with it.
MUSTANGS: I am afraid you are mistaken. Perhaps my manners here are… uncouth. I am simply a toad fancier from a foreign land seeking to understand how you do business. There’s no need for guns.
MR. HISS: Very well. But if you’re as experienced of a toad man as you say, then you should have no trouble with this serum of toad-derived insanity poison. I am assuming the exposure should make you mildly odd. Of course a man who had never been exposed to toads would become completely deranged within seconds. But that’s not a problem with an experienced toad man like you.
MUSTANGS: Ridiculous. I am leaving. Someone else here surely wants my ingots. (sound effect: rattling a locked doorknob)
MR. HISS: I’m afraid I cannot allow you to leave, Mr. Kroboshkin. You will take the toad insanity serum right now and we will see about your toad tolerance.

ANNOUNCER: And so Conrad Mustagns finds himself in another pickle with a sinister toad merchant. Will Mustangs lose his mind? Will the tainted uniforms turn the Michigan Wolverines from a fearsome football squadron to a bunch of uncoordinated oafs in the Big Game? Will Jacopo Manbanner’s sinister plot against the Wolverines succeed? Tune in next week for Big Mess at the Big House: A Conrad Mustangs Adventure.

Northwestern Basketball Coaching Search

They're all gathered from 'round the globe, in their purple regalia and their academic hats and their business-casual khakis.  The Northwestern faithful are huddled together at the Rebeca Crown Center waiting for the signs of a decision: black smoke means no decision has been made, purple smoke means a new coach, red smoke means they've found an occasion to use that smoke machine that the University Police seized from the raid on an off-campus Dillo Day party, and white smoke indicates an overextended, overwrought, and clumsy comparison between hiring a new basketball coach and picking a pope.
 
In my defense, how often do you get to make topical Pope Smoke 
references?  Unless we can convince Hollywood to get a lot more 
secretive and ostentatious about how they choose the new host of 
Family Feud.

Bill Carmody, who served for thirteen years as the head coach of Northwestern, was fired after a depleted, injury-riddled squad did what every single Northwestern did in the history of the program and missed the NCAA tournament.  For thirteen years, Carmody's teams have tormented Big Ten opponents with barrages of three pointers, backdoor layups, and relentless Balkan trashtalk.  Now, the 'Cats will have to find a new identity that will hopefully lead them to the promised land, when the name "Northwestern" appears on Selection Sunday without that ugly, disappointing State appendage-- I'm convinced that Northwestern State University is a guy with a telephone in an empty office in Natchitoches, Louisiana that finds a dozen dudes to put into the tournament as an ongoing prank on Northwestern's futile morass of basketball ineptitude.

THE BILL CARMODY ERA

It has been so long between BYCTOM posts that there is an unpublished draft pondering whether or not to fire Carmody.  And I had come down on it as a mistake.  This has nothing to do with basketball and everything to do with a concern about unbalancing the humors in Northwestern's coaching.  Bill Carmody served as a crucial balance to Pat Fitzgerald.  Carmody complemented Fitz's square-jawed,  crew-cut, fist-pump enthusiasm with his dour, sarcastic, miserablist sideline demeanor.  Fitz coaches the football team like it's a violent Boy Scout jamboree; Carmody comported himself like the basketball version of Sisyphus, forever trying to push a rock from the former Yugoslavia up the hill of the Big Ten basketball juggernaut.  What would happen if Northwestern hires another young, enthusiastic coach?  I don't want to alarm anyone, but I've done the research and it's entirely possible that the entire campus can be seized by a rash of spontaneous butt bumps, inability to function at any rate other than one game at a time, and the fist pumps, I can't even imagine the fist pumps.
 
A thoroughly scientific rendering of the Fitz/Carmody dynamic, 
which now may be seriously compromised

As much as Bill Carmody's teams have frustrated NU fans, they also reached unprecedented heights.  Even in dismal years, they provided memorable moments with his motley crew of overlooked locals and international findings.  Who can forget when Northwestern downed Iowa 40-39 in what was later prosecuted in the International Basketball Court as a crime against the sport, or that time the Wildcats trampled upon the hopes and dreams of Rick Rickert in the Big Ten Tournament, which sort of seemed like a big deal at the time for some reason?  Carmody led the 'Cats to numerous wins in dubious preseason tournaments held in unused Kumite arenas and three NITs, the only tournament that pauses for media timeouts and to allow shattered NCAA Tournament bubble teams to weep in the arms  of loved ones.  
 
A college basketball coach accepts an NIT bid

That progress was the essential Bill Carmody conundrum.  Fans braying for his head on a stick could seem unreasonably impatient with a historically woeful program, but it was also possible to wonder whether Carmody could ever get the 'Cats over the hump.  There is no sense in belaboring the debate.  Northwestern's administration has made its decision.  A new coach gets to stride into Welsh-Ryan arena and announce that he will be the one to break through the Tourney barrier, to compete in the Big Ten, and to be astonished that yes, that is actually where Northwestern plays its college basketball games.

NORTHWESTERN IS A FOOTBALL SCHOOL, HERE IS FOOTBALL STUFF

On a less depressing note, the 2013 Gator Bowl Champion Northwestern Wildcats return to the field to prepare for a season with dreams of Indianapolis in their eyes.  They'll be playing in the newly-named "West" division with all of the LEGENDS as well as Tim Beckman's Northwestern-hating Illinois team and one of Indiana or Purdue.  While many people are dancing upon the noble graves of the LEGENDS and LEADERS division names and the return to sane, cardinal direction-based titles, I'm extremely concerned.  Jim Delany has been defeated, which portends a new round of megalomaniacal pronouncements.  I expect that a cape-wearing Delany will mandate that Big Ten coaches stalk the sideline in full academic regalia in order to emphasize the conference's academic credentials, he will start replacing all positive adjectives in official press conferences with the words "legendary" or "leaderous," and he will purchase hour-long blocks of late-night programming on rival conferences' television networks that consist of him cackling on a golden throne and end with ominous threats of Big Ten expansion.
 
Scene from"You're Next, Missouri," set to air from 2-3 
AM on the SEC Network

Northwestern has struck a deal to make a return to Wrigley Field after the Cubs finish renovations.  The future Wrigley games will utterly fail if the renovations allow the full use of all available endzones.  I refuse to count any touchdown that is scored in the designated "bad endzone," and any player who breaks the plane should be followed around by a group of robed malcontents who will pester him constantly with spooky endzone chants for the duration of the season.  I've made my feelings clear to Northwestern and Cubs management by sending a literary letter that metaphorically describes the forbidden endzone as the former Soviet Union and scoring in it as taking my brain waves and using them to power a 30-foot mechanized Bukharin, so I'm sure they are taking the suggestions very seriously.

THIS IS MADNESS

As the nation full of college sports fans watch the empty, hollow, spectacle of March Madness, I'll be defiantly watching my reel-to-reel tapes of Tavaras Hardy, Jitim Young, Vedran Vukusic, Mohammed Hachad, Juice Thompson, John Shurna, and all of the rest of the Carmody-era Wildcats and pondering the future.  Unfortunately, the athletic department has refused to issue vague riddles and rhymes that will gradually reveal the identity of the new basketball coach, so there's nothing to do but sit tight and wait.  I look forward to cheering for Carmody wherever he ends up next, although I'd prefer not to see Northwestern victimized by backdoor cuts and the 1-3-1 zone defense anytime soon.  More importantly, I look forward to a basketball season less marred by suspensions and injuries that will see Northwestern return to the postseason, even if its not the glory of the Dance.  Perhaps we'll all meet back here next march, filled with insincere NIT braggadocio, ill thoughts about the Tulsa Golden Hurricane, and a new coach ready to launch Northwestern to the stratosphere of being the 68th-best basketball team in the nation.   

Wrigley Game

The possibility of a Northwestern-Illinois game at Wrigley Field heated up this week as Chicago Cubs president Crane Kennedy met with officials from both schools. According to this Sun-Times article, Coach Fitz remains hesitant about giving up a home game in front of what will certainly be an overwhelmingly pro-Illinois crowd.

Wrigley set up for Bears football-- the padding on the ivy gives it the feel of some sort of
jungle based arena league where you don't just play football but hunt the
ultimate prey: man

The argument about giving up a home game on the surface has merit, but on the other hand a decent Illinois team traditionally draws a crowd that dwarfs or at best matches the mustering of Wildcat fans at Ryan Field. More importantly, the Illinois-Northwestern rivalry is traditionally the worst rivalry in college football. A game at the Friendly Confines will surely provide the morale-boosting taunting, shouting, and potential drunken donnybrooks that will fuel this rivalry for years to come. More importantly, the game will attract both local and national attention to Northwestern football which may even distract from a media-created snit between Bears players rumored to equate teammates with various female genitalia. Giving up a home game is one of two ways to focus attention on the Land of Lincoln Trophy (the other involves dressing both coaches as Lincoln with Zook assuming the presidential beard and stovepipe hat look and Fitz as the younger clean-shaven Lincoln fist-pumping Stephen Douglas into a tiny submission).

A Wrigley Field game would give the Illinois-Northwestern game the cachet
and excitement depicted on this 1927 poster found at this blog full of vintage
football posters, including a 1936 clash between the Wildcats and the
Prisoner of Zenda

BASEBALL STEROIDS CONTROVERSY

This week, another bombshell broke in the never-ending national dirge about steroids in baseball as investigative reporters continued to name names and columnists began orgasmically quaking with moral outrage. The last round several rounds of outings have been spectacularly underhanded as players who thought they were submitting to anonymous tests have been ambushed by the pointed finger of the media. On the one hand, the test results continously demonstrate that the steroid problem has been endemic and that there absolutely nothing that anyone can do about it. On the other hand, it looks like it will continue providing hilarity as names continue to get leaked and eventually the steroid train gains enough momentum to crash resoundingly into the baseball's fortress of stodgy overreaction in the Hall of Fame.

The BBWA examines the credentials of a steroid-era player

The steroid scandal has pretty much everything one can hope for in a sports scandal: a posse of high horses riding out from major metropolitan newspapers, inevitable "what about the children" backlash, and the wonderful side effect that steroids occasionally made players develop comically swollen heads that has turned baseball fans into amateur phrenologists. The best part involves a player high-handedly denouncing steroid users before inevitably getting caught red-handed, like a bear reaching into a trap filled with salmon that would make it larger and more dangerously omniverous.

Rafael Palmeiro's "Never. Ever. Period." speech was the highlight of grandstanding
leading to invitable guilt, whereas Sosa attempted to make language learning a fun
adventure. According to this site, the text on Palmeiro's poster says: "Capital: I will
crush Soviet Russia in my fist!/But it only clenches its fist in impotent anger!"

Although one could probably become exhausted from the way that the steroid scandal is being played out in its predictable pattern of a leaked list, accusations, denouncements, tearing of the hair over the sacred history of a game marked by spitballing, sign-stealing, fake handshakes, trick mustaches, brawls, intentional vigilante beanings, segregation, Dominican birth certificates, and constant crotch manipulation in full view of polite society, the scandal has provided some bizarre sideshows. Take, for example, ex-White Sox pitcher Jim Parque's astounding 3,139-word confession to taking HGH printed in the Sun-Times last week. To say that Parque emerged from the shadows of anonymity granted to middle of the order pitchers is an understatement-- he tobaganned down from a Himalayan yurt of anonymity to a series of canoes, hand cars, dirigibles, and other obscure modes of transport in order to spray his mea culpa across the pages of a semi-reputable daily newspaper. In order to capture the full breadth of Parque's confession, I'll be placing it next to passages from Bukharin's confession of crimes against the Soviet state from his 1937 show trial:

Parque: I know that in admitting to this, I am a cheater, a villain and nothing more than a drug user in the eyes of the media and some fans.

Bukharin: I first of all wish to concentrate on my own theoretical anti-Leninist and anti-Marxist errors, in order to give a clear, general theoretical basis for the following exposition and in order not to repeat myself in my consideration of individual questions.

Parque: It was the sixth inning. There were two outs, and John Olerud was up. I had retired the last nine batters I had faced and was on my way to securing a Chicago victory. I threw a slider, striking him out looking, but I felt a pop in my left shoulder.

Bukharin: The substitution of dialectical flexibility and of the greatest degree of concreteness by abstract schemas of a renovated “theory of equilibrium”, with all assurances of mobile equilibrium, in reality meant a fixation on dead abstraction and stasis that hindered me from seeing the concrete changes in all of their multifarious and complex interweaving of appearances.

Parque: So, Kenny, as I have stated personally to you, I publicly apologize for putting you through what I did, mainly because you were the one responsible for giving me a chance. Your ability to separate the personal relationship we shared from business is a testament to why the White Sox won a World Series and have continued to be productive.

Bukharin: According to this notion the main road, the highway to the development of socialism in the countryside lay not through the productive unification of peasant households, but through a process of management, through attracting them by the market, by cooperation in trade, credit, the banking system, etc., during which the “kulak nests” would peacefully grow into socialism. In this way the most important question of the relationship between the proletariat and the peasantry was treated by me in a fundamentally incorrect manner.

Parque: Work harder, you say? Take vitamins and get in better shape? Did it, and I was rewarded with pathetic Triple-A stats, a fastball now in the low 80s and an average high school curveball.

Bukharin: Thus I was already beginning to create for myself cadres for the following struggle with the Party leadership headed by Stalin. In place were special ideological formulations, people, and their consolidation. The sense of closedness, fractional loyalty, conceitedness, anti-Party talks about Stalin’s supposedly low theoretical level, petty criticism, gossip and anecdotes about the leadership of the Party were made more serious by the fact that I, in a criminal manner, initiated the nucleus of this fraction to all the most intimate affairs of the Party leadership, acquainted this nucleus with secret Party documents of the CC, Politburo, Executive Committee and Presidium of the Comintern; I praised these young people and thereby corrupted them politically, sowed the seeds that would bring their own criminal fruit

Parque: I prided myself on working hard every day, eating properly and taking care of my body. For those of you who think otherwise, have you ever seen me in person? I stand 5-11 and weigh 185 pounds. I graduated high school at 5-5, 132 pounds. I looked like William Hung, another reason I spent many a dateless night in high school.

Bukharin: We gathered all possible information about the opposition to collectivization, about the various manifestations of peasant dissatisfaction, about the slaughter of farm animals, about the lack of bread, about the growth of price inflation, about various economic paradoxes (this was called “the economy rearing up”), we carefully gathered together facts such as that wagon-drivers were feeding their horses with baked bread because that was cheaper, etc. without end.


Jim Parque, mediocre baseball starter. Nikolia Bukharin, Bolshevik theorist,
communist fashion icon

Steroids in baseball are bound to continue popping up for quite some time. And, as each predictable revelation begets another round of breast-beating from baseball's self-proclaimed guardians, hopefully the Jim Parques of the world will come out of the woodwork and throw a monkey wrench in the proceedings until I get my wish of a Hércule-Poirot style j'accuse from one prominent player to another, igniting a hilarious Jose Mesa/Omar Vizquel-style blood feud that in the best of possible worlds involves Kyle Farnworth, leading to my surefire money-making scheme.