Opposable Thumbs

Okay... this is late... really, really late, but it's finals week and, well... here you are.

Once again, I was in Comp and bored out of my mind. My Prof was going over something about the next essay or something, but I couldn't bring myself to pay attention. He constantly just rambles on about the same things, sort of like I do, I suppose, but I like to think I'm more interesting.

I saw the following on The Colbert Report a while ago, I have no idea when the episode aired because it was recorded on my DVR, but apparently Al Gore is cuter than Bitsy. War!

According to Washington Monthly, the SEC sucks. Of course, I always knew this about the SEC and the south in general, but it’s nice to be vindicated. Score one for the Midwest! Also, The M Zone on the awesome speed and competition of SEC football.

Knowing my readership, you've heard of Measure for Measure, but I certainly hadn't before I read the thing. It's not a bad play, I suppose, but not much really happens. Which is probably why no one has ever heard of the thing. It has something to do with the use and abuse of power, unjust laws, weak rulers and sex... I think. I'm honestly not all that sure. The dialog is pretty good, though.

In German the other week (as I'm now expanding this Comp Musings idea to include all of my classes) one of my fellow students said the most remarkable thing:

"I swear to God, I met a cat on Sunday that had opposable thumbs."

"I will kill you with my mind."

Megatron

Calvin Johnson, wide receiver for the Detroit Lions, is nicknamed Megatron; the name of the most destructive and evil of perhaps all machines ever made; Megatron, the leader of the Decepticons, and arch-nemesis to Optimus Prime, and I don’t get it.

Calvin Johnson is 6 ft 5 in, 235 lb, and un-fucking-stoppable.
Megatron is essentially an AK-47 with a Gladius bayonet. Or at least he might as well be. There is nothing very admirable about this villain. He isn’t misunderstood like Lex Luthor or Darth Vader. Instead Magatron is more like the Death Star, he’s really big, made of metal, and has a giant gun. And, even though Megatron is so horrible and evil the Lions have still nicknamed one of their players after him. Why is this?

Oh yeah, because he’s huge and un-fucking-stoppable. But that answer doesn’t satisfy me. First of all, HE’S A DAMN DETROIT PLAYER NOW! Why is a Detroit Lion, a motor city player, named after a Decepticon, and not an Autobot, their sworn enemies?!

Motor city = Autobots Motor city ≠ Decepticons

However, I guess there are some similarities between Johnson and Megatron. Many of these similarities seem to work in both directions though, comparing Johnson to either warrior; Megatron or Optimus.
Optimus Prime is an automobile, a good guy, and turns into a huge truck.
Megatron is pure evil and turns into a giant gun…

Oh wiat, Calvin Johnson is a Detroit player…Megatron turns into a giant gun…yeah, yeah I guess I get it now. Calvin Johnson is Megatron, no question.


Caleb, Lorax Prime

addendum- It has come to my attention that Johnson, like Megatron, has been relativly frozen as of late. BSD would like to wish both of them good-luck and safe recoveries.

A Sports Update

I'm moving my sports related articles away from BSD and over to Kudronia... perhaps I should start calling it by its real name, Genuinely Sarcastic. But, I'm sure this will result in Kudron and I coming to blows, but it's a better fit for my sports ramblings than BSD is. It just didn't fit in our aesthetic of random crazy things... it was too mainstream. I assume I'll be writing about sports again in this space, but it will be much more about waxing nostalgic than any actual news articles. Except pieces like "Opening Day" than reports on specific games.

As always, Caleb and I really appreciate all those of you who have come here over the past months and hope that you'll enjoy what comes next.

Yours,
Matt

Henne to Manningham

I’m sitting on the edge of the couch, watching, waiting for the kickoff. Michigan down by ten to the Spartans. My mind is reeling, trying not to think about what had happened to bring us here, trying to suppress that tightening in my gut. I try not to think about how well they had played coming out of the tunnel and how atrociously things had gone since the end of the first quarter, not to think about the first or eighth of September, not to wonder how hurt Hart really is.

The game returns from commercial after the State extra point and I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, my hands clutching the sides of my face just in case the unthinkable happens and I need to jam my palms against my eye sockets. My right leg is bouncing up and down frantically, I don’t even notice until the girl next to me tells me that I’m shaking the entire couch. I laugh slightly, and mutter, “Sorry. I’m nervous.” I settle my leg down, it requires a conscious effort of will to keep it still. And then the Spartans kick the ball off and Michigan has possession again, and hope begins to return…

Henne to Arrington, 12 yards.

And here it is again… that offense I remember from so many times before… Henne back in the pocket, calmly throwing the ball around the field, passes caught by receivers slipping out of bounds to stop the clock. And then the camera switches back to the heroic senior quarterback, who hadn’t played very well, but was about to bring us redemption… the quarterback who was now hobbling…

And then it’s Mallett, with his baseball cap on backwards and a look that was somehow a mix of boyish enthusiasm and grim determination, and maybe a little bit of fear, about to put his helmet on over his hat, before it is swiped quickly from his head. My breath catches in my throat and I can hardly even move as Mallett gets behind center, takes the snap… and fumbles…

Yet, somehow… somehow the ball skips forward, jumps into the outstretched hands of our Messiah, number 20, and he’s sweeping around the line and running up the field for a first down. I had no idea Hart was even back on the field, but it was as if he knew where he had to be that instant, and as if he reached out and called the ball to him with The Force.

And then Henne is back under center, surely hurt and in pain, but knowing that this was his last chance to turn it all around, that he just had to be magic one more time to get them through this all, that he had to be the one to lead them back from the jaws of defeat.

Henne to Manningham, 13 yards

Henne to Mathews, 3 yards

Henne to Arrington, 11 yards.

And they’re just picking apart the Spartan defenders, who are reeling. Henne looks like he’s a little kid back there, slinging the ball to his friends on the front lawn, down past the mailbox and over that old Cadillac parked against the crub. The Spartan defensive line is like a little brother counting hopelessly to five Mississippi, the ball always gone before he can even get to three because the cards are jus against him. And then it’s a touchdown, Mathews streaking across the back of the end zone and Henne finding him. Jubilation. The Victor’s.

And the looks on the MSU student’s faces are priceless; they are drawn and wide eyed and full of fear, because they have seen this all before, against the back drop of the Michigan band. They’ve seen their team collapse again and again, they’ve seen those men in maize and blue tear tooth and nail back from the brink of annihilation and they know they’re just as helpless as their peers on the field. They know it’s over, they know the miraculous comeback is inevitable, they know that Michigan is holding them at arm’s length as if with a Hart stiff arm.

And the Michigan defense stuffs the Spartan run, despite the fact that they have been on the field for the entire half, that they have to be sucking wind and running on pure adrenaline and will, and Michigan has the ball back, a little under 4:30 left and time for just one more drive for the history books.

Henne to Arrington…

to Manningham…

to Arrington…

to Manningham to the 29 yard line

… as if Henne is making sure both his star receivers get a little of the glory.

Then it’s a handoff, and despite Minor fighting for every inch of ground he can gain, trying to claw his way around to the outside while being completely covered in green, he’s tackled for a two yard loss. The next play is an incomplete pass and suddenly it’s third and twelve, the prospect of a 42 yard field goal and overtime staring me in the face. And I’m back crouching over, almost in a fetal position, my eyes glued on the TV, and my right leg surely twitching like a scared animal, though I didn’t notice it at all.

And then it happened, something magical… something that instantly recalls thoughts of that Penn State game in 2005…

Henne dropped back, and Manningham streaked down the field and the ball was hurled into the air, soared like a magnificent savior towards the corner of the end zone. And Super Mario, number 86, number 1, leapt into the air, hovered above the earth like some divine being as my breath caught in my throat and the blood thundered in my ears, just hung there defying gravity until the ball came crashing into his outstretched hands and he fell back to the earth, the ball cradled safely away as he landed… and then it was bedlam.

I’m on my feet and the Victor’s is playing. It’s comeback victories and Rose Bowls. People are embracing and cars honking all over the dark streets of Ann Arbor. It’s that first kiss and Christmas morning all wrapped into one, shouting and pumping my fist to the beat as the marching band blasts East Lansing away.

It’s Henne to Manningham… those three words I’ll remember for the rest of my life no matter what happens… those words and that time that ovoid ball found it’s way into Hart’s hands as if called back to where it knew it belonged, nestled in the arm of Mike Hart.

Michigan vs. Minnesota

Blegh...

I'm not quite sure what else I really have to say about yesterday's Michigan game. The 34-10 score does not indicate how awfully they played awfully in the first half, but after the beginning of the season, I'm not going to complain. A win is a win.

Minnesota carved up the Michigan defense in the first half with that halfback hand-off from the shotgun, the back running between the center and guard. I think it's a zone read of some kind, but correct me if I'm wrong. They ran it all day long.

Things got better in the second as the weather got colder. Mallett threw some nice long passes, but also made a couple really awful ones, a particularly bad screen pass to his receiver's feet comes to mind. Both Manningham and Arrington came up with some amazing circus catches that make me wish I had remembered to record the game.

Lastly, both Minor and Brown were sick. I'm not sure how much of it was a product of the atrocious Minnesota defense, but Minor rushed the ball 21 times for 157 yards and 7.5 yards a carry, and Brown rushed 13 times for 132 yards and 10.2 yards a carry. 10.2 yac?! That's just insane. That number is skewed by his 85 yard touchdown run, but that was a thing of beauty in itself.

Did I mention it was freezing? Maybe next time I'll be smart enough to wear something warmer than a raincoat.


Links:
The M Zone

Disclaimer: As always, all pictures taken from The Detroit Free Press.

Champaign

I was gone on Saturday to Stratford, ON, so I missed the Michigan game. However, I managed to avoid hearing about the game (thanks to the fact that I was in Canada, I suppose) and I watched it last night at eight. I'm not sure whether it was the fact that I fast forwarded through all the commercials and pretty much all of the commentary between plays or it was just an exciting game, but it was exhilarating. I was nervous, but it was just a fun game to watch.

I don't have much time to write about the game or do any research because I have to read Measure for Measure, finish German classwork and finish writing an essay on The Canterbury Tales, but I do have some impressions.

- It was a great game, pure and simple and one of the most fun to watch all year.

-I thought that Michigan really opened up the offense on Saturday night, something I've wanted them to do all year. The end around to Arrington, who passed it to a wide open Manningham in the end zone was the sort of thing I'd been waiting to see for a long time. But it wasn't just one trick play, it was the fact that DeBord actually spread the offense with a variety of passes and formations and utilized the run well.


-Carlos Brown had a great game. 25 carries for 113 yards and a touchdown.

-How many fumbled snaps has it been this year?

-Mallett wasn't great, but I thought he did a good job of moving around in the pocket and avoiding the Illinois pass rush. His run for the first down and the toss to Brown really showed poise and thinking on his feet.

-While the interception he threw early was bad, Henne completely redeemed himself. It was an amazing performance from a hurt player and showed his leadership ability. What a badass. 18 of 26 for 201 yards only playing about half the game. Hart has carried this team all year, and Henne really stepped up when he was needed.

Lastly... holy shit did Illinois fuck that game up. Bone headed penalties, the muffed punt, and the revolving door at the quarterback position were just horrible. Zook can't coach for shit. Ten penalties for 107?! Come on. And Vontae Davis... he should be driven out of the Illinois. Wow did he have an awful game. Every the Illini made some stupid mistake, the camera was on him.

Kudronia
MGoBlog
Michigan Sports Center
The M Zone
Snyder

Disclaimer: Image taken from The Detroit Free Press.

Basketball on Grass

Our Messiah

I didn’t go to the Homecoming game yesterday vs. Purdue because I have some sort of cold (complete with fever, coughing and copious amounts of snot draining down my throat), but it allowed me the opportunity to sit smack dab in front of my TV and thanks to the power of DVR watch every play in pretty good detail. I just fast forwarded through all the commercials and time between plays and focused on the action. This had the added bonus of my not really having to listen to the Big Ten Network commentators. I’m going to make a few quick observations before moving on to my main point:

- Michigan played well yesterday, offensively and defensively.

- While Michigan only got two sacks, the line seemed to contain Painter pretty well and actually closed the pocket on him.

- Henne was 21-28 for 268 yards and 2 touchdowns… just incredible.

- Hart had 21 carries for 102 yards and 2 touchdowns… in the first half. I’m starting to really get excited about the Heisman, he just better not be hurt badly.

- I thought Carlos Brown ran the ball well as Hart’s replacement, and he didn’t fumble, which was a nice change of pace for Hart backups.

- K.C. Lopata: 2/2 FGs, 6/6 PATs.

“When you look at our season, we needed a game that we played our best game. I think we did that." –Lloyd Carr

The team really did play great, and my confidence has actually been restored to this team for the first time since the summer.

Finally, what the hell was Tiller doing at the end of the game? Did he pull Painter to give his second string QB some reps, or was it because Painter was sucking? And what was with the two onside kicks at the end of the game?

Was he trying to give Michigan some practice fielding them seeing as they have been shitty at it (and special teams as a whole really) all season?

Did he actually think he had a chance to come back down by 41 with about two minutes remaining in the game?

Does Basketball on Grass require onside kicks at the end of the game? Is this like full court press?

Was he trying to make the score look less embarrassing by putting two touchdowns on Michigan’s second string defense?

Was he having so much fun that he didn’t want Michigan to run out the clock and have the game be over?

Okay, half of those ideas are complete jokes, but I honestly don’t know what was going through his head. Maybe someone else has an idea about this. If I’m not mistaken, he still had all the rest of his starters in (save Painter), which I don’t really understand seeing that the outcome of the game was a forgone conclusion and Michigan had pulled all of their starters. Give your scrubs a chance to play, Tiller!

Holy hell, is that Wilford Brimley?

Links:

Kudronia

Michigan Football Saturdays

Snyder

Wojo

Note: All pictures taken from The Detroit Free Press website.

Comp Musings

It’s been a while, and I guess I could apologize, but I’m not sure I want to. I’m not even sure what is with all the Oedipal references lately. With the semester under way and things settling down, I hope I will get a chance to write more.

Sitting here in Composition, I decided that it would be a good idea to write something, considering that I’m not paying any attention to my professor. It’s not slacking off too badly, because I am composing… and my prof just told the class, “sharpen your diction”, so let see how that works. Besides, I find it hard to listen to a Comp professor who says “libarry”.

So, apparently they finally found the Northwest Passage, and Canada is getting militaristic about it. Good for them. It’s nice to see them take a stand on something other than hockey or how much they hate Quebec.

Speaking of which, I really wish Quebec would secede. I really think we need another country in North America to make things interesting.

I sat in the boondocks at the Michigan football game. I could barely even see the end zone opposite the student section because of the stupid press box. The game itself was rather gruesome… Michigan had control the entire game, but they never really pulled away until the third quarter. Lloyd needs to learn to stomp on opponents’ throats before trying to run the clock out. I think I’m hopping on the Les Miles bandwagon, but I’m keeping the right to jump off at anytime.

“Trickeration” is very important in Chaucer. And because I don’t want you to have to slog through The Canterbury Tales I’ll just tell you. Three drunken idiots wander about and decide they’re going to outwit Death. They find some gold randomly (see: trap) and want to celebrate. One of them goes off to find some food and drink and while he is gone the other two decide that if they kill their friend they’ll get more gold for themselves. Of course, the man who went to town to get the provisions decides the same thing, and puts some rat poison in the wine bottles he brings back. When their friend returns, the other two stab him in the back and then sit down to drink their wine, which kills them quickly. This needs to be made into a Halloween episode of some TV show. We get a million adaptations of A Christmas Carol, but none of The Pardoner’s Tale?

Lastly, I’m addicted to ebay. I’ve been passing my time bidding on things I know I won’t win, but which would be insane deals if I did. It’s very addicting. I think I’m going to start an auction site where you don’t actually bid on physical items or use real money… no that’s a horrible idea. No one steal it.

Cheer, cheer for Old Notre Dame

Maybe I'm odd, but after a good Notre Dame drubbing, I like to go around humming the Notre Dame fight song. I only know the first two lines, but everyone knows the tune, right? It's probably because I'm such a smug bastard, but it really lifts my spirits to know that we defeated the Fighting Irish for another year. I know I have a long list of sports enemies, but Notre Dame is at the top of it... I hate them with everything that I have. I at least can understand why some people might be Ohio State fans if they live in Columbus, or Yankees fans if they live in New York, but Notre Dame fans? It's not like anyone actually lives in Indiana... I've been there, I know (more on that soon). And if you do happen to live in Indiana for some odd reason, you should root for Indiana or Purdue or someone like that... even Utah.

Moving on to the real reason for this post... we won. Michigan finally got a victory, and did it with conviction. Throughout the day I kept hearing "Is Michigan this good or is Notre Dame just this bad?" on the television. My opinion is that we will see after the Penn State game... But Michigan played much better than they had been, and that's all I really care about. I'm also thinking about breaking out the rubber mallet, painting an block M on it and taking it to the PSU game.

I know I should probably have something gloriously bombastic to say about this win, but nothing is coming to mind. Perhaps it is because we're 1-2 and I felt more relief than actual joy and excitement with the victory. All I can say is that there was a grin on my face throughout the entire game and a grin on my face the rest of the day. Wandering around Ann Arbor was amazing, just basking in the afterglow of the win, watching those dejected Irish drunkards stumble around and the drunken screaming of the Michigan students... it was all music to my ears. It was epic and sensational and I could not have asked for a better pick me up. I finally feel like there is something to look forward to. So, ;et's just all think of Mike Hart, the man who willed this team back from Armageddon with the sheer for oh his personality, grit and spirit, and be happy.

Blank, redux

The old anecdote goes that when the upstart Continental Army defeated the British at Yorktown, Cornwallis refused to meet Washington after the battle and sent an aide to present his saber to his American counterpart. It is said that the British band started playing “The World Turned Upside Down”, a song that I have never heard, and perhaps never will, but I can still somehow sing in my head right now. I have never sympathized with Cornwallis, not until now… I feel like nothing makes sense anymore, a issue that is only further emphasized by the fact that the Lions actually didn’t completely choke this game away, that a last minute fumble actually went their way. Michigan is winless and the Detroit Lions are undefeated… I’m not sure I can explain any further.

In 2003, I was in High School and my dad was cooking duck on a September day that was supposed to be a good joke, a little arrogant celebration after Michigan defeated Oregon. The duck was still good, but it was tasted bitter with irony in my mouth. This time there was no duck, only Free Hot Dog man hurling frankfurters in the student section of the Big House. Sadly, the best part of the game, but fittingly ended when stadium security came and took him away.

I don’t know what part of the day was the saddest, but it wasn’t the performance on the field or the lack of adjustments b the Michigan coaching staff. I’m not sure how it happened, but the loss didn’t hurt as much as it should have, it simply left a hollow feeling in my gut. I don’t know if it was shock, some sort of defense mechanism, or the fact that deep down inside I saw this coming. I swear I thought they would win, but maybe I didn’t believe it deep down inside. So another running quarterback shredded Michigan’s defense, that’s nothing new, but the complete and utter domination was. I feel numb to it all, despite all my efforts not to. It’s Notre Dame week now and I don’t even care. I’ll be in the Big House on Saturday, but I think I’ll sit in section 22, with all the old timers instead of sneaking into the student section like last week. I want to sit there and quietly take in the game, instead of stand amongst my peers and curse.

I realize that my writing has deteriorated into gloomy musings, but I don’t really have a timetable for when I’ll write about anything else. Sorry all.

BLANK

I had planned on writing a preview for Michigan when I came home on Tuesday. I had planned a bombastic ramble about the virtues and greatness of the Wolverines, of how their glories would be unsurpassed this year, how they would sweep through the teams they played, vanquish Ohio State and I would be on that field at The Big House with the players and my fellow students, running and laughing and without a doubt happier than I have been in my entire life.

Now… now I’m just empty. I feel like a shell of my former self. I cannot even bring myself to type the words that are required to explain what happened. I guess I’ll just post a few links later… it’ll be less painful that way. Besides, I didn’t even see the game, I say helpless and watched the scoreboard online, sat and stared in shocked, unbelieving horror at those numbers. Those impossible, unfathomable numbers.

And as I watched, a knot formed in my gut, no not in my gut, of my gut… and I watched as my one last hope of redemption was shot down, as the defense caved again, as they scored a field goal and as that last field goal was blocked despite being on the twenty. I can only imagine the torture I would have went through had I seen the game live… because I would have been there had I not been here, in Massachusetts. And that’s the crux of it all… I can’t help but feel that this is all my fault, that had I been there things would have been different. Honestly, I know that they would have been.

So now I sit here and stare ahead of me, a day later and feeling no different. I’m not even sure if it has entirely hit me, or even how I am supposed to react. Last years loss to Ohio State was brutal, without a doubt the worst in my life… until yesterday. At least that loss to OSU had meaning, had honor in it, yesterday was just a disgrace. How am I supposed to trust Lloyd Carr’s coaching ability? Or the defense’s ability to stop anything? How am I supposed to trust Chad Henne and Super Mario and Mike Hart to be super heroes and save the day anymore? I am not placing any blame, because I didn’t see the game and only heard a little about it, because I am far past the point of blaming anyone… but, it truly feels like Superman just died.

Simply put, I’ve lost my faith. I’ve lost my faith in story book endings, in the notion that things turn out right in the end. I’ve lost my faith in fate. The Michigan fanbase as a whole is one of the most cynical and self-deprecating there is… probably right after Red Sox nation pre-2004 and Michigan State, but I never was one of those people. I had hope and confidence and the belief that all would turn out right in the end. But, how am I supposed to believe that now? How am I supposed to believe that anything will be OK when the one thing I was always so sure of was ripped apart limb by limb in my absence? I feel like Zeus has smote me with a thunderbolt, that God is laughing at me from somewhere I will never be able to see, that the Fates are cackling madly in Hades. How can I trust anything anymore when my life is controlled by circumstances that I cannot even comprehend, much less influence? I go through life hoping that things will turn out all right, that somehow I will find what I am looking for, but it never seems to come. There is no comfort anymore, just vacant, staring eyes and a rock in my stomach.

If you want to know what I’m talking about, just go to ESPN.com or Yahoo Sports or probably the fucking Wall Stree Journal, too… I’m sure it will be plastered everywhere just to spite me.

Meanwhile, the Michigan blogosphere is in shambles, after about a million (probably more around a thousand… but that’s a fucking lot” comments on MGoBlog, they experienced “technical difficulties”, and now there are a lot of kittens on the site. I think Brian might have gone insane with grief.

RBUAS seems to be down, too.

Everyone else is calling for the end of the world, including Kudron of course. I haven’t even been able to bring myself to read any of these posts for very long, though.

The M Zone
Michigan Sports Center
Michigan Against the World
Kudronia

Lastly, I'll leave you with a quote from my friend from Pennsylvania who I made into a Wolverine, and who I would like to apologize to for the pain I have brought her.

"Can you explain to me how this happened? I was home for the weekend, but even at school we don't get BTN. PA is BTNless. So I am really confused as to how we lost to a team that I can't even place on a map."

...

Lions

I’m not quite sure what the point of this article is, because every football fan already knows what I am about to say, and no one else cares, and its not even football season, but here it goes anyhow…

I’m beyond hurt, I’m beyond caring… I’m just sick to my stomach. The Detroit Lions were never great, but when I was a kid they had greatness. There was Barry Sanders to watch, the greatest running back ever to play the game. Watching him run was like watching a gazelle evading a cheetah, it was pure motion, pure elation. He was a little blue streak doing things that were not humanly possible. It was simple greatness. The Lions might not have won any games that actually mattered, they might have disappointed, but at least they won. At least they had players who you felt cared, who you knew were good and at least you figured that the people in charge knew what the hell they were doing.

Not anymore. I’m not even going to name names. It’s just gone all downhill from there. Our GM is a complete moron, our owner is senile, our coach has no experience. How can you give a guy a contract extension when everyone on the face of the planet can see that he deserves to be fired? I’d rather have Black Manta running the team than the idiot who is now. And, the saddest thing is, I don’t even fucking care anymore. I’m so numb to it all. Why should I give a fuck when they don’t?

I guess I’m still a Lions fan, but I don’t care anymore. I feel like I’m in an abusive relationship and I can’t get out. I’ve finally just accepted my fate. Maybe I’ll still wear my Lions jersey, and maybe I’ll watch a few quarters of the game if it’s on and I have nothing else to do… but I won’t care anymore. Their perpetual loosing will no longer affect me. I just expect it now. The losing wouldn’t be so bad if I just felt they cared. But, whatever, I give up.