Nothing But Iron: Four on the Floor December 10, 2007 by Steven R. Lagman, M.D., C.A.S.W. Sorry for not writing, but figured I would try out the writer’s strike for a few weeks. Wasn’t doing much for me, so today I crossed the picket line, with nothing left to show for it but the same old day-job doctor’s salary I had before. Mostly I crossed for your benefit and at great peril of being viciously attacked by, for example, by an angry mob of soap opera writers who might, for example, beat me senseless for my lack of solidarity. Of course I would retaliate by emerging from my coma, having plastic surgery and returning as either Cliff Tyler or Tyler Cliff, a divisive, power hungry soap opera producer who would fire and blacklist my assailants once the strike was over. Then I would have affairs with all their wives and some of their mothers. Who would have thought that Wisconsin’s win over Georgia would usher in one of the worst sports weeks in the history of the existence of sports weeks? O.K. I exaggerate, but the disappointments were persistent. Not for a minute on that Saturday afternoon did I consider that the Badgers might soon get trounced by Duke, the Packers might soon lose to Dallas and that both my sons’ basketball teams would soon lose at home to rival Monroe, whose varsity is the defending state champion. No minute actually passed that allowed for such a glimpse into the future because I was focused on taking pictures and trying not to have a seizure in my floor-level seat that at one point was close enough to Brian Butch that I could have reached out and touched him, which, for the record I had no desire to do. I would like to tell you that my wife and I deserved the privilege of such proximity, but that would only be the case if one of us had recently cured cancer, beaten Roger Federer in straight sets or won the presidency of a prominent country. I instead attribute my good fortune to dumb luck and the generosity of our friends Michael and Rita. Kelly got the call from Michael a couple days before and she accepted the invitation without even consulting me. After a brief reminder about how the husband and wife share the decision making in our family, I agreed she did the right thing. Michael Johnson (not his real name, and no, even if you are a huge client of his business he cannot invite you to sit in the floor seats for the Indiana game) is a big shot at Smith (not its real name) Bank. Not long ago Smith Bank took all of the money (my estimate) out of its vault and gave it to the Badger Fund in exchange for four floor seats, which quite comically bear the face value denomination of $26. Seeing the printed ticket price we offered to pay Michael for the our seats. Well, actually, we offered to give him 25 bucks for the pair, but he thought we were joking, so we just ran with it. At this extreme of close range the sights and sounds and intensity of the game were magnified a thousand times, especially during Wisconsin’s furious come back early in the second half. I tapped Michael on the shoulder and pointed straight across the floor to Georgia’s head coach. "You have the same seat he has," I said. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that could not have been more complete if there had been glass slippers and a horse-drawn pumpkin-turned-carriage to shuttle us back to our car. Fast forward to Tuesday night’s Big Ten-ACC Challenge. Wisconsin finally got to play one of the ACC’s premier teams. The match up happened about a year late, but no matter. To play a McDonalds All America All Star team in Cameron Indoor Stadium would be an opportunity to measure just how far the program had come. To the casual observer, the Badgers were overwhelmed like an orphaned baby robin in a blizzard, suggesting the program has advanced about half and inch on the yardstick by which elite programs are measured. That’s why you have me to offer the opinion of the formal observer: the Blue Devils were lucky and the refs cheated. Fine, I don’t really think that. I really think that Duke is highly talented, very fast, well coached and shot lights out in the first half. By contrast the Badgers, with the possible exception of freshman Jon Leuer, played like they were in awe of their surroundings. So what’s the redeeming value of a wire-to-wire rout? Experience. What did I like about the game? I liked what I always like about Ryan-coached teams: the guys never give up. Fast forward to Friday–no, too far. Rewind to Thursday. The Packers lost what seemed to be the biggest game of the year, the one that seemed to have home-field playoff implications. Could there possibly be anything redeeming about losing this game? Experience. It is possible that the y+F (young + Favre) Packers might play in Texas Stadium again. I think they would have a snow ball’s chance in Dallas of wining the rematch, but I also believe that having played there before would improve the likelihood of snowball viability. I should also remind myself that even with key injuries, too many penalties and a back up quarterback, Green Bay had a chance to win. So the post-season is set: Packers lose to Dallas, in Dallas, in the NFC championship game, the Cowboys are unceremoniously beaten by the perfect Patriots in the Super Bowl and the Celtics win the NBA Championship. I know this because history teaches that what we think will happen always happens. Astute readers will recognize my facetious tone. In fact I believe, with all the conviction I can convey, that something will happen that we will not have predicted. That thing could make us very sad or very happy. I vote for happy. Fast forward to Saturday and the collapse of major college football. The whole improbable mess reeks of meddling, computer malware and other improprieties. There they sat hand in paw, West Virginia and Missouri, atop the BCS standings, poised to save college football by advancing to what would have been the most absurd, most mythical national championship game in BCS history. Missouri failed in its quest to win its rematch against Oklahoma. In another era, the Sooners would have a good shot winning all three of their playoff games en route to a national title, so Missou’s loss is certainly forgivable and does not compromise the credibility of the Tigers’ season.  West Virginia’s fall to Pitt, however, was egregious, possibly representing the biggest coughed up hairball since the extinction of the saber-toothed tiger. The Mountaineers–hardly distinguishable from the Mouseketeers–even with the officials cheating on their behalf–somehow managed to choke away my dream of the BCS being publically stripped bare of its cloak of synthetic legitimacy. There could even have been swirls of icing on my cake's frosting; imagine the screaming if WVU, regardless of the BSCCG opponent, would have advanced having barely beaten the 5-7 Panthers. I demand an investigation. The upshot is that the BCS, like a not-enough-times-dead cat tossed from a jet liner, has landed safely on all fours with LSU and Ohio State in its premier game. We will never know if either of these are the best two teams in the land, but most people will figure it’s close enough, and the BCS is, once again, off the hook. Excuse me while I vomit to get the taste out of my mouth. I owe an apology to Sports Illustrated, which I accused of whore mongering because of its paucity of articles critical of the BCS. Austin Murphy ("Can You Say Playoff?" December 10, 2007) wrote a brilliant, if overdue, in-your-face-o-gram calling for the obvious solution that even includes a sample bracket. He methodically listed, then logically dismissed each of the BCS’s laughable excuses for its own existence, and he outed obstructionist BCS lackeys like Jim Delany and Tom Hansen, commissioners of the Big Ten and Pac Ten, respectively, who, in their defense of the sanctity of the Rose Bowl, won’t even allow for the possibility of an infinitely doable Plus One game, the rough equivalent of a four-team playoff. Though insufficient without good reason, Plus One would represent a step in the right direction. By the way, I don’t care if the 9th-best team is really the 8th best team or the 11th best team should have been included or excluded or vice frickin’ versa. I don’t care that once in 20 years the would-be champion (not provable) doesn’t get in the play-off. Perfection will not be achieved, but at least we will have the satisfaction of knowing that we tried. Alas, there is nothing we can do. But wait! We may be the only ones who can do anything. We can write letters to college presidents, chancellors and coaches. We can flood the NCAA and conference offices with calls and e-mails. Would that matter? Maybe a little. But what if we quit the BCS? What if half of us didn’t watch LSU and Ohio State and their associated sponsors? I say we’d have a playoff in about the time it takes to reboot a BCS computer. In other words, I dream on for another year. When that year is over, I’ll make the same arguments I did this year. You’ll shake your heads and say I should just get over it. And I won’t. Quick commentary on UW’s basketball loss to Marquette. Reader Gene Miller said it best: "That was one of the most intense games I have ever seen." I missed the live version because I was watching my boys lose their own intense basketball games. For those of you who thought Marquette’s guards were sometimes too good to be true, I offer this observation: The officials missed five indisputable traveling calls against the Warriors in the first half alone. All five missed violations led to field goals. The rules are: 1) You can pick up your pivot foot, but you cannot legally put it back down. 2) You cannot legally pivot after a jump stop. 3) If you jump stop, both feet must touch the floor simultaneously. 4) The first foot down after a dribble is stopped is the pivot foot. Simple rules, but tough to apply in real time, especially given the quickness of Marquette’s guards. I had the benefit of TiVo slow motion, although I only replayed plays that looked suspicious in real time. On the other hand, the refs had the advantage of being major college basketball officials. Marquette fans will probably cry, Whatever. I admit it’s not true science. For example, I did not count missed calls on the Badgers, but that’s because I like the Badgers. That’s probably enough small-minded commentary. Marquette is good. You don’t win in the Kohl Center unless you are good. I think Wisconsin is good too. It make take most of the season for this team to reach its potential, but I say again, there is a huge upside to this group of players. I look forward to following them. No sports column is complete without weather small talk. It is winter, and, yes, it is cold enough for me. I am amused that this recurring climatological theme seems to surprise people who live in Wisconsin. In anticipation of the last week’s storm, the radio announcer advised us to have nonperishable food on hand. Who doesn’t have that? Besides, if the power goes out, it’s not like the perishable food will suddenly perish because the whole house will be like a giant live-in freezer. I do agree that there is more snow and cold than we have seen in many recent Decembers, but it is nothing like it was when we were kids. Back then driveway snow drifts of 25 feet were common by Thanksgiving. We had to shovel by hand with no gloves, using only soup spoons and scraps of cardboard. Worst of all, nonperishable food had not yet been invented. Did I mention that this issue is your Christmas gift? It’s the perfect gift because you can re-gift it by simply hitting the forward arrow on your e-mail program. _____________ Nothing But Iron is an amateur sports column. The author apologizes for making fun of striking soap opera writers and of the soap operas they write. This issue is dedicated to our floor seat hosts, Michael and Rita Johnson and Smith Bank, and to my parents and grandparents, who taught me how to talk about olden times just like they did. ©2007 DrTM Enterprises. All rights reserved.