Nothing But Iron: Tricks and Treats, Trials and Tributes by Steven R. Lagman, M.D., C.A.S.W. November 2, 2008 This first part is about Linda. Most of you don’t know Linda, but the best way to understand who she was to us is to think of the people who make you smile when you know you are going to see them. From the first time Kelly and I met Linda we knew we would look forward to seeing her again. Was it her teacher’s wisdom? Her generous nature? Her sense of humor? Her need to learn about our kids and jobs and our lives? Yes, it was all of those things. We knew Linda through her boys too, especially our good friend Paul, Linda’s eldest, a diamond who didn’t fall far from the mine. I am sad to be speaking about Linda in the past tense. She died a week ago. But she lives on in her husband and her sons and grandchildren and her students and all of the people who smiled because they knew they were going to see her. Maybe that’s what they mean by a full life. I can’t recall an occasion to doubt Bret Bielema’s leadership qualities, and it seems now that I may not find one anytime soon. You might think, in the midst of a crushing four-game conference losing streak, that Bielema’s dark side might have erupted: Maybe lash out at the critics (Tom "Grain Man" Oates gets my vote), throw a couple players and an assistant or two under the team 16-wheeler, or maybe remind us that all would be well if the team just followed his plan. Instead, according to the local paper, Bielema put together a season highlight video and played it continuously in the locker room in the week before the Illinois game, to remind his players of their potential for success. Surely a few people teasingly applauded Bielema’s creativity, or perhaps his use of slow motion, to get over an hour and twenty minute’s worth of good tape, but I doubt that he cared. The win over Illinois felt more like a masterpiece than it probably looked. I liken it to the way a cheap domestic beer tastes when it’s 90 degrees outside and you just played basketball for two hours. Masterpiece or not, it was a lot of fun. I was (mostly) dead wrong about the crowd. Yes there were visible gaps in many rows and many sections. Some of these gaps were filled with orange folk chanting three letters at a time. But the UW crowd was engaged, supportive and responsive. Sometimes it nurtured like a mama bear feeding its cubs. Only once, after Travis Beckum dropped a pass, did I hear boos, like a mama bear clawing the eyes out of its cubs. That black mark aside, I was proud to be a Badger that day. Even Mr. Negative managed a personal best in ssssssssssssssscheering. Hey, did you ever start to fall asleep and realize you were leaning on the s key? Anyway, Mr. N, cheered and encouraged well into the second quarter, after which time he reverted to the hypercritical caricature that we have come to know and mock. I make fun of him, but I suppose he is probably a pretty nice guy when he changes out of his red clothes. Shortly before criticizing "Number 67" for not getting his feet out of the way of the running back behind him, Mr. N warned me that the strap had fallen off my seat back. He then helped me put it back on. I have to remind myself that a person is not just one entity. I must also remind myself that the old version of myself, circa 1980-2002, could have been Mr. N’s kid brother. Yikes. We also have Mr. COP in our section, which for me makes Camp Randall a virtual house of mirrors. COP stands for "Come on people!" He stands up, flaps his arms, and glares at his section mates, who often succumb to his guilt-laden influence. I may be Mr. COP’s only fan. His methods may be forceful, but his motivations are honorable. Reminds me of myself in the Kohl Center trying to resuscitate near-comatose fan imposters in critical parts of a critical games. After a coulda-shoulda-woulda-wasn’t at Michigan State crushed all hopes of a two-game winning streak, I came to understand just how precious that Illinois game was. It may have been the high-point of the season. No matter what happens, we can always look back and say, Yeah, but we beat the Illini. I disagreed with some of the coaching decisions in the fourth quarter, as would be my prerogative as a highly-acclaimed sports writer, author of numerous books on football strategy and former coach of seven or eight (one loses count after so many) different national champion college football teams, which is not the case. Paltry credentials notwithstanding, I offer this critique for entertainment purposes of my readers. It’s a friendly disagreement, or it would be if the Badgers coaches knew I existed, and then chose me to be their friend and knew that I welcomed their public commentary on the conduct of my medical practice. After a holding penalty wiped out a game winning first down, Wisconsin ran a draw play on third and long, essentially conceding that its drive had ended. Do you–at 1-4 in the Big 10–put the outcome in the hands of your two weakest facets–punting and pass coverage? Of course not. You try to get the first down. Make a Dustin Sherer to Garrett Graham pass on third and eighteen the game-deciding play. If they stop it, they deserve the chance to win the game. Asked another way: Do you hand the Spartans the chance to win, or do you make them take it from you? Again, and I will repeat it until I am severely brain damaged, severely enlightened or the avoidance method of coaching dies its overdue death–The difference between trying to win and trying not to lose is often the difference between winning and losing. I also disagreed with the time out before MSU’s game winning field goal. I understand the concept of icing a kicker, but I think that the focus-stealing necessity of beating both clock and scoreboard would trump the benefit of ice time. And no fair playing the retrospect card. If I had not said these things in real time, with witnesses (available upon request), I would not repeat them here. It’s probably still not fair, but if I don’t write about something, what will you read? Note to David Gilreath: Run, David, run! Don’t stop until you see a sign that says: Stop, David, Stop! In one late drive Wisconsin ran the end around on back to back plays. The first went for 15 yards. The second, a six-yard loss, when Gilreath stopped and tried to cut up field on a pursuing tackler. Speed is your weapon, son. There are few defenders who can beat you to the corner. Don’t turn until you get there. Note to punter Brad Nortman: Try shortening your first step by about an inch. Plant firmly with the ball of the heal of the foot–not the ball. Point the football slightly downward and rotate the strings just a little more to the right. You should feel a distinct pop on the mid shaft of the fourth metatarsal when you hit the ball just right. That should do it. Baseball coverage: Philadelphia wins something for the first time after seven hundred years of no titles at any level, even in Little League baseball and at state fairs. My favorite headline appeared in the WSJ: "No Reign Delay." Clever play on words. I know it is pathetic, but I was too busy to actually watch any of the series (I did hear 7 minutes of it on the radio). It is even more pathetic that I am not embarrassed about being pathetic. Here is my summary of the World Series as it pertains to basketball: If Bo Ryan is happy, I am happy. Trick-or-treating is not a sport, but I think it may be time for instant replay, just so the world will be able to share in the comical ugliness of what I hope is not a societal barometer. Here’s what you would have seen at our house: 1) Several groups of teenagers, dressed only as teenagers, asking for candy. My wife, who is a kick-butt wife, told the bewildered beggars, "Sorry. No costume, no candy." You go, Wife! 2) Multiple kids neglecting to say thank you. Wife would shout after them, "You’re welcome!" 3) A woman holding open two pillow cases: "These are for my lazy nephews," she said, with perhaps a hint of regret. And you thought the witch costumes were scary? I think that Wife was too stunned to say what she wanted to say: "Lady, are you sure you should be giving candy to kids too lazy to go trick-or-treating?" Alternatively: "Dude, you must be present to win." If anybody knows where I can order shrink-wrapped swift kicks in the ass that’s what I will hand out next year. In lieu of that, I’m stocking up on celery and carrot sticks. On that note, isn’t trick-or-treating a weird tradition? The costumes are fun, especially for the people who enjoy the fruits of a billion-dollar industry that sells them, but does anyone else see a need to reevaluate the part where we hand out sugary poisons to cute (except for the adolescents who make no attempt at cute) little developing humans. High fructose corn syrup vs. razor blades concealed in apples? At least the latter is obviously harmful enough that kids won’t become addicting to eating them. __________ Nothing But Iron is an amateur sports column. The author receives no financial support from either apple growers or razor blade manufacturers and is not likely to receive support from corn sugar producers any time soon. The author wishes Linda’s family many special memories of her. © DrTM Enterprises. All rights reserved.