On Several Things I Pondered Over The Thanksgiving Respite

1. I understand why the question must be asked, but I'd like to think there's a dividing line between those of us who temper our irrational affinity for sports with a certain amount of perspective and sanity, and those who actually believe laughing in the midst of defeat is some sort of capital offense, and are probably the same the people who bother to phone death threats to college sports bureaucrats, and are in danger of some kind of grand, Buffalo 66/Big Fan-esque spiral of humiliation and ignominy.

2. Which brings me to Boise State, and the worst column I've ever written. I was in college, of course, and Penn State's kicker missed a field goal to lose a game. I cannot remember the game, and I cannot remember the circumstances, but for some reason, this inflamed my sense of righteous indignation to the point that I ended my column with the emphatic declaration: "Leave (said kicker) alone." A few days later, I was at a fraternity party when some girls recognized me from my photo. "You wrote that column about (said kicker)?" they asked, and when I nodded in the affirmative, they giggled and walked off. And so went my first lesson in the dangers of overt self-righteousness; that column was the first of many missed attempts in my career. Which is why I am glad I fell asleep before the end of that Boise State game, because there is nothing more demonstrably more painful in sports than a kicker failing in a clutch situation; it is a nightmare come to life. It is us standing in our underwear. It is us forgetting our lines. It is a scenario that makes for great literature, of course--and I suppose there's a bit of irony in the fact that I shanked my first attempt at capturing those emotions in such a major way. I still wish I could take it back, that I could have tempered my thoughts in a more elegant manner, but I can't. I'm sure, at some minute level, Kyle Brotzman feels the same way.

3. It is amusing how everyone tacitly acknowledges that the NBA regular season is essentially meaningless until March/April, but the Heat appear to be dead in the water after eighteen games.

4. Just when I thought narrative journalism, I returned from frigid New England to read this excellent piece on Laura Hillenbrand, and this outstanding piece by Chris Jones on Randy Quaid, and this edifying two-part interview with magazine writer extroardinaire Michael Paterniti, who published this ridiculously good Thurman Munson profile a few days after I'd published my own Thurman Munson profile in the Akron Beacon Journal Sunday Magazine, which even now serves as a humbling reminder that I'm not too far removed from being the clumsy bozo who wrote all those terrible columns in college.

On Boise State, TCU and Democracy in America

I wrote this piece for GQ.com.

In late 1969, one Richard Milhous Nixon, whose most prominent gridiron accomplishment involved having his front teeth separated from his jaw, declared the University of Texas the champions of college football. What gave Nixon the right to do this, no one really knew. Years later, Penn State football coach Joe Paterno, whose team went undefeated that same season, would wonder aloud how Nixon could know so much about college football and so little about Watergate.
Of course, Paterno—the closest thing college football has to a Northeast intellectual—is himself a Republican; he once gave a convention speech seconding the nomination of George H.W. Bush. Such is the overarching ethic of the sport: a 2009 survey found that college football fans, as an entity, were slightly to the right of NASCAR fans. College football lore is crowded with reactionaries, and this is how many Americans prefer it. This year, Alabama is the defending national champion and the preseason No. 1, and it feels perfectly natural, a throwback to the days when Bear Bryant surveyed practice from a tower and George Wallace openly insulted hippies.
And yet, despite that, 2010 has the potential to be the most progressive season in the history of college football, for two reasons.

Read More http://www.gq.com/blogs/the-q/2010/09/wanna-strike-a-blow-for-democracy-root-for-boise-state-and-tcu.html#ixzz0yICqUfew

(Photo: AP)

On The Final College Football Game of the Season

A few disjointed thoughts on a bizarre championship game:

--In 1972, the NCAA permitted freshman athletes to participate in football and basketball; in the 1980s,* with the NCAA considering a repeal of said rule, a freshman named "Never Nervous" Pervis Ellison led Louisville to the national championship in college basketball. Hence, the notion of youth conquering all plowed ahead, and in the two decades since, we have come to expect remarkable accomplishments, sans neurosis, from the blue-chip adolescents who now essentially form the core of college basketball. If John Wall melts down, we don't blame youth; we blame John Wall.

In football, I know, freshmen are not quite as impactful, but I will admit, when Garrett Gilbert entered the game for Texas last night, I kind of figured he'd be fine. None of these guys get nervous anymore, I thought. Maybe he'd struggle with reads and progressions and blitzes and all the inherent complications of the position--maybe the football would bring him down--but I didn't imagine that anyone who was deemed strong enough in his inaugural season to back up Colt McCoy--not to mention win a pair of Texas high-school state championships, which is about as emotionally stresstful as running for governor anywhere else--would become so emotionally bamboozled. I mean, you could actually see Gilbert melting down into a puddle of adolescent angst come halftime; his body language was more overtly frightened than anything I'd seen on a football field (barring catastrophic injury) in many years. It's not something we witness very often anymore, and it was kind of humanizing and Saracen-esque,**and I'm relieved Gilbert was able to pull himself together in the end, because for a while there, I thought we might be witnessing the implosion of an otherwise promising career. Now I have this feeling we'll see him in this game again, and he won't appear nearly as uptight the second time around. Though I can't say the same for his coach, who appeared to plow through an entire case of Juicy Fruit in the first half.

--Speaking of coaches: Even when being showered with Gatorade, Nick Saban comes across as an entirely dishonorable human. He got away with that doltishly overaggressive fake punt early--basically, if McCoy plays one more series in the first quarter, Texas probably wins the game--and I have to imagine this will be the last championship he wins at Alabama. I have to imagine it will all seem far too easy for him after this, that he will lose interest, that his program will become embroiled in scandal or general malaise, and he will bolt in the middle of the night for a new challenge, while assuring us all along that he had no interest in the job he just took until 9/11 changed his life forever.


--Boise State deserves at least a few first-place votes. Boise State could have played Alabama tight. Anyone who doesn't believe that was not paying attention.

*In 1986, to be exact, which you can read all about in this book. Now with updated cover art!
**There is no question that Friday Night Lights completely altered the way I viewed that game last night. I'm starting to think it's permanently altered the way I view football players. If Moneyball was the previous decade's ultimate triumph of rationality over emotion, Friday Night Lights is its polar opposite. It's made watching football far more emotionally charged than ever before.

(Photo: Rodolfo Gonzalez, Austin-American Statesman)