In general Big Ten news, Northwestern wide receiver Kyle Prater, who transferred from USC, has been ruled eligible to play this season, a decision from the NCAA which Wildcat fans have been anxiously waiting on for many months. Getting a guy like Prater would've been huge for Michigan, but for Northwestern he might as well be a literal fusion of Jerry Rice, Larry Fitzgerald, and Plaxico Burress in one DB-destroying form.
But seriously, this should be a big addition to what is somewhat surprisingly a very solid group of wide receivers, even after losing top receiver Jeremy Ebert to the NFL. Northwestern has a deep group, consisting of Demetrius Fields, Christian Jones, Tony Jones, and Venric Mark. Now, you can add Prater to the mix. Needless to say, Michigan's secondary depth will be tested. When NU spreads us out with four or five wide and Colter decides to run around, our linebacking speed will also be challenged.
A reminder: Prater is 6'5''. Considering that Michigan's corners are all very, very tiny, this could be a problem on November 10th when Northwestern comes to town. Kain Colter probably still won't be zinging it all over the field like he's Dan Persa just yet, but there's no doubt that he will probably have improved a decent bit by this November. If Michigan isn't careful this one could end up being the Inexplicable Conference Loss that was a regular thing under Lloyd.* FWIW, Christian Jones is 6'3'', Tony Jones and Fields are 6'0'', and Mark is 5'8''.
Prater was a 5-star prospect wanted by basically everybody, including Michigan. If he can contribute like his talent would indicate that he can, Northwestern might have a sneakily good offense despite not having a real solid option at tailback to take the load off Colter. It might be too early to officially dub this a trap game, but, you know, be wary. The Northwestern game, a week after traveling to Minnesota and the week before Iowa (and then Ohio State the next week), this could very well be one to watch
*You know, despite the fact that every Lloyd loss seemed like the "you shouldn't have lost to that team" variety"...the man still compiled a .753 winning percentage. Or, in Michigan Man parlance: UNACCEPTABLE.
Showing posts with label Lloyd Carr. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lloyd Carr. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Kerosene
The final seconds ticked off and Michigan had lost again. It wasn't even close and by the time it was over I was already numb to it all. Chris Relf plowing through the line become a philosophical reality, and Bulldog linebackers streaming through our line on all-out blitzes like so many Haley's Comets turned life-destroying asteroids, wiping out Michigan's chances like the dinosaurs. An era was over, and despite the brief hope I held that somehow the vast layer of dust left by the impact would catch fire from some random wayward spark--reigniting the hope that once existed about the spread and Rich Rodriguez and the new and certainly better Michigan that would arise of it--it did not, and everything went dark for a while. We were left, leaderless, to madly wander the heath like King Lear, in the cold and in the dark and without direction or any sense of purpose or meaning. We were kings reduced to common men, crazy men.
Rich Rodriguez waited for his fate after the catastrophic failure that was the Gator Bowl (and much of the rest of his tenure) like Meursault, waiting for the gears of justice to finish grinding in order to provide a favorable verdict. After a while, it is easy to trick yourself into believing that something will turn out better than it will. Meursault's lawyer told him he expected a "favorable outcome," which, for me, would have been the retention of Rich Rodriguez and his offense, with, of course, some serious changes being instituted in an attempt to fix what had obviously been broken. Maybe those fixes were impossible because they were fixes to problems caused by things so deeply rooted in Rich's personality that it would've been like telling a consistently pessimistic person to look at the bright side of life. I convinced myself that maybe that would happen, but, like Meursault's case, it did not.
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Five days later, Michigan had a coach. Each day seemed like a lifetime in and of itself as the program wandered like Lear, with the rain falling down turning the ash and the dust on the ground into a soft, extinguishing mud. Each day was stretched out and miserable, leaderless and void of anything, not even anything bad, by which to define ourselves. Each day we were left to twist in the wind, hoping for Harbaugh, for Miles (not me), for someone to come and say that they were the leader of this program and they would get on it then and there. Finally, we had that man, and, for a while, I was unhappy. But, as they say, it's in the past.
We're 72 hours and a tailgate away, and yet I get the feeling that it's happening too fast. I wonder if I've done everything I needed to do this offseason? I wonder if the team is ready? I wonder if Coach Hoke believes the things he is saying or if it's all a show? I wonder how media savvy Coach Hoke really is? Is Greg Mattison really that good? Does Borges really understand what he has in Denard? Does Denard really understand how fast he is, and how when there's nothing there on the pass he needs to go?
These aren't questions so much as expressions of anxiety. After a long hiatus, the 2010 season seems like the distant past, as does most of the Rich Rodriguez era. What came out of the Llody Carr era was rebirth, and from that hope, and from that resistance, and failure, and partial rebirth into failure and failure and failure and part of the partial rebirth into dread, the dread of the end and the dread of the beginning, like stabbing at the surface of a pool once, twice, three times before eventually taking the plunge for better or worse.
We're embarking on a slow shift the other way, the way we desperately strove to distance ourselves from after Crable blocked the outside guy on the final field goal against Appalachian State. The old way of doing things, whatever that may mean. There's nothing sarcastic or critical in that designation (particularly since this old way was more successful than the new way), as trying something new necessitates the existence of a prior way, an SOP of Michigan football. Everybody needs definition or else they risk extinguishing the fire of themselves, the thing that makes them do the things they do. For those five days, the fire fell to a low, dull glow, sickly and meek and embarrassing. It's a wonder what eight months can do. I went to bed on January 1st, thinking about what had just happened, what would happen, wondering what another restart would do to that flame. Those five days bore out our biggest inefficiencies, our at times hamfistedness, our determination to revert, to tear down, to criticize. Some threatened to leave if changes weren't made. Some said that all of this was a mistake. I had poured my entire heart into the revolution, and in the end, too many people had put down their guns and gone home.
I, myself, am furthering myself from certainty. This weekend marks the first home game for which I won't be in attendance since 2006. I don't know what I'll do, or how I'll handle it. This coming Saturday last year, I was in the stadium when Brock Mealer walked across the field. It got dusty.
I was starting my senior year, which I thought would never end, as people always do at the beginnings of things. I've had to adapt, to realize that things are now irrevocably different, that they won't be the way they've been the last four years, where I could walk to my window any evening of the week and hear a faint and distant rendition of The Victors, chopped up in pieces, played and replayed and perfected. I always wondered how they could practice it so many times, because when they played it during the games it sounded the same every single time.
I'm in New York now, a place that represents the antithesis of college football culture. I've seen my share of Michigan gear here and exchanged Go Blue's with people I would never see again. On my way back home to New York after a trip to Alabama in June, I met a Nebraska fan in the airport in Huntsville, AL. I told him I wished him well and that I hoped he would enjoy the Big Ten conference. He said that he was looking forward to it. I had over an hour until boarding; I ended up talking to this stranger, who was kind enough to approach me upon seeing my #16 jersey. He asked me if I was a Michigan fan, and I laughed and said yes while thinking how no answer would ever convey what I was thinking.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I got to watch Mike Hart and those guys for a year, my freshman year, after watching them play for three years while I was in high school in north Alabama, surrounded by Alabama and Auburn fans. Michigan won the Big Ten when Mike Hart and Chad Henne were freshmen, and even they they lost their last two games that season you had the feeling that an endless future extending to infinity existed, that three years of Henne and Hart might as well have been an eternity. Everybody said to wait till 2007, when they would be seniors. If you think this is good, wait till they're older, better, more experienced. Everything gets better, everything is linear and un-tampered with, watch this success unfold methodically. It was the height of certainty, as far as knew it, as certain as I could be as a 15-year old. I got to Ann Arbor in 2007, and things did not happen the way people expected them to, and uncertainty ruled the day.
Even then, the fire burned. It never wavered because I saw Mike Hart carry the ball 44 times against Penn State with strep throat. I saw a gimpy Chad Henne lead the Wolverines to a victory in Evanston after the young upstart Mallett proved to be unworthy of the throne. I watched Mike Hart pick up a fumble that miraculously bounced into his hands--on the first snap that Mallett took after Henne hobbled to the sidelines midway through the fourth--as if he was picking up his laundry and it was all perfectly logical and true to life.
It was absurd and irrational but it was memorable and it kept things alive. Hart did that his entire career; just when you thought things were over, when you thought that Michigan would lose to Michigan State for the first time in six long, dominant years, Hart pulled out a big bucket of kerosene and poured its contents all over his own body and set it on fire to prove a point. Even at the bottom, the smallest, most ridiculous events spawn things beyond their original scope. A seed becomes an apple tree, a fumble picked up like the stray singular sock on your bedroom floor becomes victory; unadulterated, undiluted victory. When I look back, I remember the defeats, but they litter the landscape light stray leaves, secondary aspects of a grander scene. Disappointment is relative, but memories are not. I remember Mike Hart doing that thing, and it was. It still is.
This team has has its heroes. I could go through them, but to draw attention to them is superfluous and most probably not what they would want themselves. The thing that's most worth knowing is that heroes will be born this season, but you might not know it until next year, or the year after, or 20 years down the road when you're wondering what happened to that guy or that guy.
Rich Rodriguez waited for his fate after the catastrophic failure that was the Gator Bowl (and much of the rest of his tenure) like Meursault, waiting for the gears of justice to finish grinding in order to provide a favorable verdict. After a while, it is easy to trick yourself into believing that something will turn out better than it will. Meursault's lawyer told him he expected a "favorable outcome," which, for me, would have been the retention of Rich Rodriguez and his offense, with, of course, some serious changes being instituted in an attempt to fix what had obviously been broken. Maybe those fixes were impossible because they were fixes to problems caused by things so deeply rooted in Rich's personality that it would've been like telling a consistently pessimistic person to look at the bright side of life. I convinced myself that maybe that would happen, but, like Meursault's case, it did not.
When the bell rang again, when the door to the dock opened, what rose to meet me was the silence in the courtroom, silence and the strange feeling I had when I noticed that the young reporter had turned his eyes away. I didn't look in Marie's direction. I didn't have time to, because the presiding judge told me in bizarre language that I was to have my head cut off in a public square in the name of the French people. Then it seemed to me that I suddenly knew what was on everybody's face.And, like that, it was over.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Five days later, Michigan had a coach. Each day seemed like a lifetime in and of itself as the program wandered like Lear, with the rain falling down turning the ash and the dust on the ground into a soft, extinguishing mud. Each day was stretched out and miserable, leaderless and void of anything, not even anything bad, by which to define ourselves. Each day we were left to twist in the wind, hoping for Harbaugh, for Miles (not me), for someone to come and say that they were the leader of this program and they would get on it then and there. Finally, we had that man, and, for a while, I was unhappy. But, as they say, it's in the past.
We're 72 hours and a tailgate away, and yet I get the feeling that it's happening too fast. I wonder if I've done everything I needed to do this offseason? I wonder if the team is ready? I wonder if Coach Hoke believes the things he is saying or if it's all a show? I wonder how media savvy Coach Hoke really is? Is Greg Mattison really that good? Does Borges really understand what he has in Denard? Does Denard really understand how fast he is, and how when there's nothing there on the pass he needs to go?
These aren't questions so much as expressions of anxiety. After a long hiatus, the 2010 season seems like the distant past, as does most of the Rich Rodriguez era. What came out of the Llody Carr era was rebirth, and from that hope, and from that resistance, and failure, and partial rebirth into failure and failure and failure and part of the partial rebirth into dread, the dread of the end and the dread of the beginning, like stabbing at the surface of a pool once, twice, three times before eventually taking the plunge for better or worse.
We're embarking on a slow shift the other way, the way we desperately strove to distance ourselves from after Crable blocked the outside guy on the final field goal against Appalachian State. The old way of doing things, whatever that may mean. There's nothing sarcastic or critical in that designation (particularly since this old way was more successful than the new way), as trying something new necessitates the existence of a prior way, an SOP of Michigan football. Everybody needs definition or else they risk extinguishing the fire of themselves, the thing that makes them do the things they do. For those five days, the fire fell to a low, dull glow, sickly and meek and embarrassing. It's a wonder what eight months can do. I went to bed on January 1st, thinking about what had just happened, what would happen, wondering what another restart would do to that flame. Those five days bore out our biggest inefficiencies, our at times hamfistedness, our determination to revert, to tear down, to criticize. Some threatened to leave if changes weren't made. Some said that all of this was a mistake. I had poured my entire heart into the revolution, and in the end, too many people had put down their guns and gone home.
I, myself, am furthering myself from certainty. This weekend marks the first home game for which I won't be in attendance since 2006. I don't know what I'll do, or how I'll handle it. This coming Saturday last year, I was in the stadium when Brock Mealer walked across the field. It got dusty.
I was starting my senior year, which I thought would never end, as people always do at the beginnings of things. I've had to adapt, to realize that things are now irrevocably different, that they won't be the way they've been the last four years, where I could walk to my window any evening of the week and hear a faint and distant rendition of The Victors, chopped up in pieces, played and replayed and perfected. I always wondered how they could practice it so many times, because when they played it during the games it sounded the same every single time.
I'm in New York now, a place that represents the antithesis of college football culture. I've seen my share of Michigan gear here and exchanged Go Blue's with people I would never see again. On my way back home to New York after a trip to Alabama in June, I met a Nebraska fan in the airport in Huntsville, AL. I told him I wished him well and that I hoped he would enjoy the Big Ten conference. He said that he was looking forward to it. I had over an hour until boarding; I ended up talking to this stranger, who was kind enough to approach me upon seeing my #16 jersey. He asked me if I was a Michigan fan, and I laughed and said yes while thinking how no answer would ever convey what I was thinking.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I got to watch Mike Hart and those guys for a year, my freshman year, after watching them play for three years while I was in high school in north Alabama, surrounded by Alabama and Auburn fans. Michigan won the Big Ten when Mike Hart and Chad Henne were freshmen, and even they they lost their last two games that season you had the feeling that an endless future extending to infinity existed, that three years of Henne and Hart might as well have been an eternity. Everybody said to wait till 2007, when they would be seniors. If you think this is good, wait till they're older, better, more experienced. Everything gets better, everything is linear and un-tampered with, watch this success unfold methodically. It was the height of certainty, as far as knew it, as certain as I could be as a 15-year old. I got to Ann Arbor in 2007, and things did not happen the way people expected them to, and uncertainty ruled the day.
Even then, the fire burned. It never wavered because I saw Mike Hart carry the ball 44 times against Penn State with strep throat. I saw a gimpy Chad Henne lead the Wolverines to a victory in Evanston after the young upstart Mallett proved to be unworthy of the throne. I watched Mike Hart pick up a fumble that miraculously bounced into his hands--on the first snap that Mallett took after Henne hobbled to the sidelines midway through the fourth--as if he was picking up his laundry and it was all perfectly logical and true to life.
It was absurd and irrational but it was memorable and it kept things alive. Hart did that his entire career; just when you thought things were over, when you thought that Michigan would lose to Michigan State for the first time in six long, dominant years, Hart pulled out a big bucket of kerosene and poured its contents all over his own body and set it on fire to prove a point. Even at the bottom, the smallest, most ridiculous events spawn things beyond their original scope. A seed becomes an apple tree, a fumble picked up like the stray singular sock on your bedroom floor becomes victory; unadulterated, undiluted victory. When I look back, I remember the defeats, but they litter the landscape light stray leaves, secondary aspects of a grander scene. Disappointment is relative, but memories are not. I remember Mike Hart doing that thing, and it was. It still is.
This team has has its heroes. I could go through them, but to draw attention to them is superfluous and most probably not what they would want themselves. The thing that's most worth knowing is that heroes will be born this season, but you might not know it until next year, or the year after, or 20 years down the road when you're wondering what happened to that guy or that guy.
We can't control what happens on the field, but we can control the fire that burns, that must burn, if you're a fan of any sort. I choose to relish the moments, the players, and the experiences I have with Michigan football. There's always a time for moping, a period of days or weeks when it's justifiable to be a cantankerous, horrible version of yourself. We are all allotted this time by ourselves, a special time we've set aside at the beginning that we've condemned yourselves to lose, like walking into a casino and saying you'll lose this much and that it's okay.
I've learned, in four short years of horrible, frustrating, and exhilarating Michigan football, that you've got to take what comes, assimilate the failures into the overall sum of memories so that in the end they're indistinguishable. Selective memory is just another name for optimism. As long as you keep the fire burning, as long as you feed it and nurture it and remember why you even do it when it shoots up smoke and burns everything around it to the ground, leaving unseemly trails of blackened earth and ashy detritus, then you'll understand, and everything along the way becomes a part of the process, a part of the burning. After all, sometimes the only thing that lets you start over in earnest, is fire.
Friday, August 26, 2011
The Horror Pt. II: This Time It's Personal, 8/26
The last football-less weekend is finally upon us. To be quite honest with you, this offseason has been the swiftest one I can remember ever having to slog through, and up until the recent flurry of transfers, was just about perfect. Brady Hoke fattened the media up on the empty-calorie foodstuff known as fluff, the VHT recruits are coming in like they used to, and OSU has a laundry list of questions to answer on and off the field. In any case, I'm looking forward to what the season has in store, but I advise all to savor the quiet calm that will be this next week. Once things get going there's no looking back.
As far as this blog goes, I'm excited to keep things going throughout this season. I started out with a certain vision of what I wanted to write about, and if you've read anything here you'll know what I'm talking about. I love to write and I love Michigan football, two inclinations which converge to form long-winded posts on games against bad Indiana teams. Everybody has their flaws.
I've tried to produce some more day-to-day type content to bridge the gap between my longer posts. I'm still trying to feel things out, and I've been helped out immensely by Brian at MGoBlog, as well as the guys at Maize and Brew and The Wolverine Blog, for linking to my work; without their help in that respect, this blog would not have advanced much farther than my own circle of friends. With that said, my interest is not in the aesthetics of the blog or even the number of views I get, and I would still do this even if my close friends were the only people that read it. I started this thing late one night last summer, and I had no idea what I was doing, what my "niche" would be, how long I would continue to write, and what my "voice" was or would be. I'm still trying to get a feel for all of these things, but it's coming along. I haven't posted as frequently as I would have wanted, but the new season is the perfect opportunity for me to throw some words out there into the great big void that is the Internet and whomever reads it, reads it.
In short, for the handful that have kept up with this blog: thank you, and I'm looking forward to writing about the 2011 season.
Hey, remember that time? ME NEITHER: So, Dave Brandon clearly has not learned from past mistakes. As you all know, Michigan has scheduled the Appalachian State Mountaineers to a rematch, to be played in 2014. Yes, I know. Dr. Saturday expresses the universal dread-filled sigh exhaled by Michigan fans everywhere upon hearing this news:
At least Armanti Edwards can't hurt us anymore.
Hello Goodbye Again: Exit TX TE Chris Barnett, adding to the recent string of departures. This is the third incoming recruit to not make it to Sept. 3rd. Attrition is unfortunate, and by all accounts Barnett was a very talented player (i.e., not your generic stone-handed in-line blocker). Having garnered offers from two schools that have recently produced elite tight ends (Oklahoma-Jermaine Gresham, Arkansas-DJ Williams), Barnett was a big get for Michigan. Unfortunately, he ballooned in size throughout the spring and summer, apparently reaching a hefty 280. There's no telling if that was the sole reason behind his transfer (if it is...why?), but in any case, this is unfortunate simply for the fact that there's currently not very much talent waiting in the wings behind senior Kevin Koger. Michigan is probably good at the tight end position for this class, but it will definitely be a priority next year, as will theBarwisization Wellmanization of Ricardo Miller.
Meanwhile in Columbus: 11W previews the season, but not until they talk about how long the offseason has been for them. Eventually, they get to some prognosticating: 4 out of 8 contributors have the Buckeyes going a Carr-esque 9-3, with two claiming 10-2, one for 8-4, and one for 11-1. Basically, they'll be in Florida playing an SEC team, which would be their most disappointing season since 2004 (which should just about tell you how far apart Michigan and Ohio State are right now). Personally, I think 9-3 is a good bet. A pretty tough slate in October will make or break this team, with the road test in Champaign being particularly interesting. Who those three losses will come to is up for debate, and I'm not quite willing to go on record right this minute if Michigan is one of those three (FWIW, general season predictions post should be coming next Monday).
They also each identify the one thing that would make the season a "failure": four involved some form of Michigan, with three being "losing to Michigan" and one being "losing to Brady Hoke."
CtK Day 8:
Wolverine Historian: Tired of watching last season's Illinois shootout on the BTN every other day? Here's something nice to mix things up a bit:
It's So Fluffy: More offseason fluff, this time in the form of a Q&A with former assistant Jerry Hanlon. A couple bits aren't exactly anything new, per se, but should serve as some needed reassurance for the legions of people worried about the offense:
Hanlon also makes note of some potential difficulties with the receivers:
Notre Dame figures to have a pretty strong front seven, but Michigan should be able to win its fair share of battles in the secondary if Denard and Roundtree, Hemingway, etc. are on the same page.
More? Dr. Saturday continues with his BlogPoll...OSU comes in at 17. Spencer Hall trolls hard in the paint. Delonte Hollowell et al, I think the word y'all are looking for is "tremendous." If this is what the future looks like then I'll stay right here, thanks. Dick Tressel thinks brother Jim will coach again...good luck with that. The Daily on Michigan's practices leading up to the opener...Borges: "Our practices are not for the faint of heart."
As far as this blog goes, I'm excited to keep things going throughout this season. I started out with a certain vision of what I wanted to write about, and if you've read anything here you'll know what I'm talking about. I love to write and I love Michigan football, two inclinations which converge to form long-winded posts on games against bad Indiana teams. Everybody has their flaws.
I've tried to produce some more day-to-day type content to bridge the gap between my longer posts. I'm still trying to feel things out, and I've been helped out immensely by Brian at MGoBlog, as well as the guys at Maize and Brew and The Wolverine Blog, for linking to my work; without their help in that respect, this blog would not have advanced much farther than my own circle of friends. With that said, my interest is not in the aesthetics of the blog or even the number of views I get, and I would still do this even if my close friends were the only people that read it. I started this thing late one night last summer, and I had no idea what I was doing, what my "niche" would be, how long I would continue to write, and what my "voice" was or would be. I'm still trying to get a feel for all of these things, but it's coming along. I haven't posted as frequently as I would have wanted, but the new season is the perfect opportunity for me to throw some words out there into the great big void that is the Internet and whomever reads it, reads it.
In short, for the handful that have kept up with this blog: thank you, and I'm looking forward to writing about the 2011 season.
Hey, remember that time? ME NEITHER: So, Dave Brandon clearly has not learned from past mistakes. As you all know, Michigan has scheduled the Appalachian State Mountaineers to a rematch, to be played in 2014. Yes, I know. Dr. Saturday expresses the universal dread-filled sigh exhaled by Michigan fans everywhere upon hearing this news:
For most Michigan partisans, Sept. 1, 2007, is a black hole. A void that never existed. A Saturday that the calendar, somehow, just sort of … skipped. All they know is that they went to bed that Friday night excited for the season opener, and came to the following Monday feeling terrible.A lot of interesting emotions will be floating around Ann Arbor that day. The atmosphere will be part dread, part apprehension, part disingenuous apathy, and part vengeful bloodlust. Playing this game is still stupid, no matter how much anybody wants the "revenge." There is no number of points that Michigan could win this game by that will eliminate any of the embarrassment of that day. I had a similar reaction to Brian when I saw this...I don't think any fanbase ever has panicked more than we have/will about an FCS opponent 3 years down the road. As weird as it is to say, this game, which took place on my third day on campus as a naive freshman, will always be a significant part of my fandom and of my aggregate memories of Michigan football. Not that I want that to be true, of course...it's horrible. No amount of mind bleach will ever erase the painful memories of that day. It was a surreal part of your every Michigan fan's fandom, an absurd memory that just kind of latches on to your memory and never lets go, not unlike the time you had to watch The Miracle of Life in middle school. Some things stay with you forever.
At least Armanti Edwards can't hurt us anymore.
Hello Goodbye Again: Exit TX TE Chris Barnett, adding to the recent string of departures. This is the third incoming recruit to not make it to Sept. 3rd. Attrition is unfortunate, and by all accounts Barnett was a very talented player (i.e., not your generic stone-handed in-line blocker). Having garnered offers from two schools that have recently produced elite tight ends (Oklahoma-Jermaine Gresham, Arkansas-DJ Williams), Barnett was a big get for Michigan. Unfortunately, he ballooned in size throughout the spring and summer, apparently reaching a hefty 280. There's no telling if that was the sole reason behind his transfer (if it is...why?), but in any case, this is unfortunate simply for the fact that there's currently not very much talent waiting in the wings behind senior Kevin Koger. Michigan is probably good at the tight end position for this class, but it will definitely be a priority next year, as will the
Meanwhile in Columbus: 11W previews the season, but not until they talk about how long the offseason has been for them. Eventually, they get to some prognosticating: 4 out of 8 contributors have the Buckeyes going a Carr-esque 9-3, with two claiming 10-2, one for 8-4, and one for 11-1. Basically, they'll be in Florida playing an SEC team, which would be their most disappointing season since 2004 (which should just about tell you how far apart Michigan and Ohio State are right now). Personally, I think 9-3 is a good bet. A pretty tough slate in October will make or break this team, with the road test in Champaign being particularly interesting. Who those three losses will come to is up for debate, and I'm not quite willing to go on record right this minute if Michigan is one of those three (FWIW, general season predictions post should be coming next Monday).
They also each identify the one thing that would make the season a "failure": four involved some form of Michigan, with three being "losing to Michigan" and one being "losing to Brady Hoke."
CtK Day 8:
Wolverine Historian: Tired of watching last season's Illinois shootout on the BTN every other day? Here's something nice to mix things up a bit:
It's So Fluffy: More offseason fluff, this time in the form of a Q&A with former assistant Jerry Hanlon. A couple bits aren't exactly anything new, per se, but should serve as some needed reassurance for the legions of people worried about the offense:
They will do some zone blocking, but they will also do some swiping and double-teaming. They pull and trap. They pull every man along the line of scrimmage, from the tackles to the center to everybody. It allows you to take more advantage of what the defense is doing to you.There it is, it's out there. No speculation necessary about what Michigan will or won't do (with more emphasis on the latter, perhaps). Michigan will zone block, despite Hoke's notorious rhetorical aversion to zone blocking and his offseason-long diatribe re: its incompatibility with overall team toughness. Michigan will also do some man blocking. It seems like a distant relic of the past, given that we've been zone blocking since 2006. Everything, include Borges's own words and SDSU's offensive philosophy under Hoke/Borges, point toward a balanced, diverse offense. The offense will probably not be too complex early on (looks like it's 65-70% of the SDSU playbook as of now), but, by the end of the season we should be looking at a fairly dangerous offensive unit. What that translates to in terms of cold, hard production is tough to say, but an improved defense (top 70?) and a competent kicker (PLEASE) would go a long way towards easing the transition and ultimately leading to maybe an extra win this year.
Hanlon also makes note of some potential difficulties with the receivers:
There will be a change with your wide receivers. They'll be more interested in blocking downfield, as well as running patterns. Of course, they're going to have to run much more disciplined patterns, where they read a defense and know what they're supposed to do and make a cut, come back to the ball. The pocket passing game is more geared to that.This is perhaps the most underplayed issue involving the offense, particularly when most consider the talent and depth that the Wolverines are blessed with at the position. For all of RR's offensive brilliance, his passing schemes were actually fairly simplistic. There's nothing complicated about getting a receiver open after Denard carries the ball for several long gains on a given drive.
Notre Dame figures to have a pretty strong front seven, but Michigan should be able to win its fair share of battles in the secondary if Denard and Roundtree, Hemingway, etc. are on the same page.
More? Dr. Saturday continues with his BlogPoll...OSU comes in at 17. Spencer Hall trolls hard in the paint. Delonte Hollowell et al, I think the word y'all are looking for is "tremendous." If this is what the future looks like then I'll stay right here, thanks. Dick Tressel thinks brother Jim will coach again...good luck with that. The Daily on Michigan's practices leading up to the opener...Borges: "Our practices are not for the faint of heart."
Monday, August 8, 2011
2,815 Days
It's been a long, long time since we've beaten that team down south. 2,815 days, to be exact. A lot has happened since then, then being the last time we managed to beat them. I was 14 years-old, essentially a third of my life ago. Times were much simpler. Losing two in a row was a cause for concern back then. Everything was straightforward and decidedly more comfortable, even in defeat. Michigan was usually going to have a good--but not great--season, and beating Ohio State was, for quite some time, a near birthright. Then things changed. Jim Tressel came along, and somewhere along the line Lloyd had lost a certain something; his raison d'etre had been compromised.
It's hard to tell when these types of things really begin and end. The Roman Empire fell in 476 AD, and most people will tell you this if you ask. Of course, that empire did not just collapse at one moment like a physical manifestation of the past perfect tense, like a sand castle crumbling feebly under the ocean's mindless will. It was gradual, slow, and excruciating. Deep down, they knew it was coming, and when it finally did they had become numb to all external stimuli that didn't flatly tell them this is going down.
Next year became next year became please just make it respectable.
The "days since" doesn't mean a thing anymore. It honestly hurt more when we had lost three, four in a row. The "scUM" comments and general insanity of the Buckeye fanbase (re: Kyle Kalis) exist now as they did then in equal measure, like one derpy scientific constant; they've become a part of the normalized perception of them, and as a result they mean nothing. The pain receptors of a sports fan can only take so much; after a while, you're only flooding the synapses with wasted refuse, drowning neurotransmitters speaking Mandarin Chinese to a receptor that only understands Old English. Michigan fandom between 2004 and now, vis a vis Ohio State, has been like one long, extended third degree burn; a pain so great that our nerve endings have been burnt off, leaving the pain unfelt, although we know its there. Things are bubbling up again now, a fresh start has excited us once again. Still, I can't help but imagine the innumerable peasant revolts throughout history that began with such lofty goals and were relentlessly quelled without any hoopla or lasting historical imprint. The again, it's better than the alternative. Every once in a while things work out, and I think our chances are a little bit better.
The worst part of all of this is not even the fact that Michigan has lost so many times in a row, it's that Ohio State has become the undeniable definition of success in the Big Ten throughout the last decade, and that we have come to measure ourselves against them. Lesser programs than ours have beaten Ohio State since 2003. They can be beaten, especially now. The question is, when? An entire era of Michigan football passed without answering that question. Rich Rodriguez nominally close for a half in 2008, approaching closeness if not for wholesale self-destruction in 2009, and quite frankly, never close at all in 2010.
This offseason has intensified my distaste for Ohio State in a way that I previously thought was not possible. I thought my hatred had plateaued long ago, that I had maxed out my hating potential and that it would probably begin to decline ever so slightly once Michigan got that elusive next win. I was so wrong. I hate Notre Dame with the intensity of a thousand suns, and the Spartans and their Sith Lord of a head coach are slowly starting to gain traction on my hatred power rankings. Yet, all I can think about is Ohio State. Every offseason, I painstakingly count down the days to kickoff. No matter how good or bad Michigan was expected to be in a given season, the chance to watch Michigan play was sacred and inviolable. Despite all the Hoke-speak about taking it one game at a time, I can't do that. I would honestly fast forward through the entire season like I would the offseason if it would take me to just before high noon on the 26th of November. This sounds like desperation, and maybe it is, but if I could isolate and distill the endocrinal secretions that come about from my thinking about Ohio State in early August, you'd have a thriving black market for a on-FDA approved energy drink. This burgeoning hatred must be what MSU fans want us to think about them (i.e., that that rivalry has been rekindled, that we hate them), only I don't feel that about Michigan State and probably still won't even if we lose to them this year. That type of hatred is reserved for one team; there can only be one.
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The number itself, 2,815, is surprisingly meaningless. It is, however, beyond absurd when you write it down or say it aloud. I'm still getting over the fact that Denard racked up 502 total yards against Notre Dame last season. The numbers don't mean anything, in and of themselves; they're just markers of failure and success, of triumph and defeat. When Michigan finally wins The Game again, that number will be twisted about, and we will begin flinging the days back at Columbus like rotten fruit, in bushels of 365 at a time. And while that may sound absurd, the fact of not having beaten our most hated foe in that many days is perhaps even more so.
The consoling part of hitting rock bottom is that everyone tells you the only place to go is up. Sometimes, though, you just stay down.
And that is what concerns me the most. Losing again would hurt, and it'd put me in a funk for the next week or so like it always does. But, after all, what's the difference between 7 and 8 really? In the end, it won't amount to much. I just want to beat them again, if only to know that we still can. To beat them once, now, is to beat them a thousand times, and it goes without saying that it would infuse the Michigan program with a vitality that Coach Rod's lacked at all times except perhaps September of 2009 and 2010. Only 110 days remain until we find out if we still can. This isn't the time for real predictions, but I think we can. At the very least, we'll have our best chance in a long time, and a chance is more than we've had in many of the last several contests against the Buckeyes.
It's hard to tell when these types of things really begin and end. The Roman Empire fell in 476 AD, and most people will tell you this if you ask. Of course, that empire did not just collapse at one moment like a physical manifestation of the past perfect tense, like a sand castle crumbling feebly under the ocean's mindless will. It was gradual, slow, and excruciating. Deep down, they knew it was coming, and when it finally did they had become numb to all external stimuli that didn't flatly tell them this is going down.
Next year became next year became please just make it respectable.
The "days since" doesn't mean a thing anymore. It honestly hurt more when we had lost three, four in a row. The "scUM" comments and general insanity of the Buckeye fanbase (re: Kyle Kalis) exist now as they did then in equal measure, like one derpy scientific constant; they've become a part of the normalized perception of them, and as a result they mean nothing. The pain receptors of a sports fan can only take so much; after a while, you're only flooding the synapses with wasted refuse, drowning neurotransmitters speaking Mandarin Chinese to a receptor that only understands Old English. Michigan fandom between 2004 and now, vis a vis Ohio State, has been like one long, extended third degree burn; a pain so great that our nerve endings have been burnt off, leaving the pain unfelt, although we know its there. Things are bubbling up again now, a fresh start has excited us once again. Still, I can't help but imagine the innumerable peasant revolts throughout history that began with such lofty goals and were relentlessly quelled without any hoopla or lasting historical imprint. The again, it's better than the alternative. Every once in a while things work out, and I think our chances are a little bit better.
The worst part of all of this is not even the fact that Michigan has lost so many times in a row, it's that Ohio State has become the undeniable definition of success in the Big Ten throughout the last decade, and that we have come to measure ourselves against them. Lesser programs than ours have beaten Ohio State since 2003. They can be beaten, especially now. The question is, when? An entire era of Michigan football passed without answering that question. Rich Rodriguez nominally close for a half in 2008, approaching closeness if not for wholesale self-destruction in 2009, and quite frankly, never close at all in 2010.
This offseason has intensified my distaste for Ohio State in a way that I previously thought was not possible. I thought my hatred had plateaued long ago, that I had maxed out my hating potential and that it would probably begin to decline ever so slightly once Michigan got that elusive next win. I was so wrong. I hate Notre Dame with the intensity of a thousand suns, and the Spartans and their Sith Lord of a head coach are slowly starting to gain traction on my hatred power rankings. Yet, all I can think about is Ohio State. Every offseason, I painstakingly count down the days to kickoff. No matter how good or bad Michigan was expected to be in a given season, the chance to watch Michigan play was sacred and inviolable. Despite all the Hoke-speak about taking it one game at a time, I can't do that. I would honestly fast forward through the entire season like I would the offseason if it would take me to just before high noon on the 26th of November. This sounds like desperation, and maybe it is, but if I could isolate and distill the endocrinal secretions that come about from my thinking about Ohio State in early August, you'd have a thriving black market for a on-FDA approved energy drink. This burgeoning hatred must be what MSU fans want us to think about them (i.e., that that rivalry has been rekindled, that we hate them), only I don't feel that about Michigan State and probably still won't even if we lose to them this year. That type of hatred is reserved for one team; there can only be one.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The number itself, 2,815, is surprisingly meaningless. It is, however, beyond absurd when you write it down or say it aloud. I'm still getting over the fact that Denard racked up 502 total yards against Notre Dame last season. The numbers don't mean anything, in and of themselves; they're just markers of failure and success, of triumph and defeat. When Michigan finally wins The Game again, that number will be twisted about, and we will begin flinging the days back at Columbus like rotten fruit, in bushels of 365 at a time. And while that may sound absurd, the fact of not having beaten our most hated foe in that many days is perhaps even more so.
The consoling part of hitting rock bottom is that everyone tells you the only place to go is up. Sometimes, though, you just stay down.
And that is what concerns me the most. Losing again would hurt, and it'd put me in a funk for the next week or so like it always does. But, after all, what's the difference between 7 and 8 really? In the end, it won't amount to much. I just want to beat them again, if only to know that we still can. To beat them once, now, is to beat them a thousand times, and it goes without saying that it would infuse the Michigan program with a vitality that Coach Rod's lacked at all times except perhaps September of 2009 and 2010. Only 110 days remain until we find out if we still can. This isn't the time for real predictions, but I think we can. At the very least, we'll have our best chance in a long time, and a chance is more than we've had in many of the last several contests against the Buckeyes.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Remember When: 2007 Northwestern
People forget about this one a lot. In fact, I haven't given it much thought since it happened. I decided to watch Wolverine Historian's Chad Henne tribute video last night on a whim and it brought it all back. You might think that it's "just Northwestern"--a 6-6 one at that--and, well, it is. It also isn't. I would posit that if there was a game that defined Chad Henne was as a player, I think this one is it. Five-star quarterbacks are not all the same. I mean, they're all generally great passers with strong arms and either great size or great athletic ability, but after that things start to get clear. It's like a microscope slide--at a resolution that is a touch less than needed everything looks the same, but a subtle uptick in focus reveals a world crawling with particles all different from each other. Sometimes you can't tell the difference even then, and you need to see how things act under natural conditions. If a slide in a controlled laboratory environment is a 7 on 7 camp or the Elite 11 then a real, live game is the unpredictable swampland, swishing with flotsam and jetsam, a place where destinies fulfill themselves without rhyme or reason. It was 2007. The Wolverines had lost their first two games after beginning the season with a top five ranking, and Chad Henne had gotten hurt in a thumping against the Ducks. Chad Henne came back for this: why?
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Chad Henne passes as Justin Boren looks on, confused
This is a game that nobody will talk about in the grand scheme of things. It was an inglorious contest, one that Michigan escaped from with a victory but only barely after entering the half with down by 9. After Henne engineered a masterful opening drive--leading to an 11-yard Manningham touchdown reception, in which he made calmly dismissed the defensive back before him with a shimmy and a burst that we would see again months later against the Gators. Even throughout this first drive, it was obvous Carr and Co. were protecting Henne via a gameplan that featured short drops and quick passes to the sidelines. Northwestern wasn't very good, so it worked, but Henne had to exit the game for a while. Enter Ryan Mallett, the hero of the Penn State game and the caretaker throughout the Notre Dame Yakety Sax contest (for the kids).
Of course, some people were already calling for the young upstart to ascend the Michigan quarterbacking throne, kicking Henne to the curb like the Borgias "dismissed" their rivals. Unfortunately for Mr. Mallett, he was not quite that good yet. From the moment he entered the game in the first quarter until Henne's return at the beginning of the second half, no points were scored. The offense was stuck in the mud and it was obvious that the freshman wasn't up for it. In a drive near the end of the first half, he was able to complete a bomb to Manningham down the right sideline, followed by a nice scramble to avoid a near sack to find an open Manningham for a first down*. Those two plays were just about the extent of Mallett's good play that afternoon: one frantic near sack and a completion that was almost ruled incomplete. He was downright bad and this performance was a bitter disappointment after he performed so admirably against ND and PSU (especially in the latter, during which he completed a number of fairly clutch late game passes). My intention is not to trash Ryan Mallett; rather, it is to show how good Chad Henne was by comparison, and what he offered that Mallett didn't then (and arguably never did, but that's a story for another day). Sometimes it's easier to tell what it is that you have before you if you juxtapose it with something else.
Chad Henne returned and with a workmanlike efficiency resurrected Michigan's offense, applying a defibrillator to Mike DeBord's brain and saying just let me finish this so we can go home. Once he returned, the outcome was never in doubt. Henne led Michigan down the field once again in the 3rd with a little help from his friends--namely Mario and Mike--punctuating the 10 play, 77-yard drive with a touchdown pass to Carson Butler (!) of all people. Despite knowing that it's going to happen and having seen the above highlight video many more times than a normal person probably should have, it always surprises me that Carson Butler catches that touchdown for some reason.
Henne went on to throw another touchdown pass, this time to Adrian Arrington, in the fourth to put the Wolverines ahead 21-16. It wasn't even some long, triumphant drive, either.
| Michigan at 11:15 | MICH | NW | ||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1st and 10 at NW 16 | Mike Hart rush for no gain to the Nwest 16. | 14 | 16 | |
| 2nd and 10 at NW 16 | Chad Henne pass incomplete to Mike Hart. | |||
| 3rd and 10 at NW 16 | Chad Henne pass complete to Adrian Arrington for 16 yards for a TOUCHDOWN. | 20 | 16 | |
| Jason Gingell extra point GOOD. | 21 | 16 | ||
| Bryan Wright kickoff for 65 yards returned by Stephen Simmons for 29 yards to the Nwest 34. | ||||
| DRIVE TOTALS: Mich drive: 3 plays 16 yards, 01:22 Mich TD | ||||
After a stuffed rush by Mike was followed by an incompletion, Henne said bastante. He was sick of this, like John McClane, wondering how he get himself into all of this. Henne dropped back and unloaded a precision strike to Arrington between two hapless Northwestern defenders floating around like buoys in the sea, helpless and ineffectual in their movements. Henne's arm and precision was the perfect storm.
I imagine Henne walking up to Lloyd in that knee brace, even more immobile than usual. Lloyd probably had that same look he always had, the stonecut wrinkles in his forehead in their most compressed state. He was probably anxious on the inside because Mallett play was the antithesis of tremendous. Henne to Lloyd: I'm good. Lloyd nods.
*Jason Gingell went on to miss a 26-yard field goal...history repeats itself and whatnot.
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Nobody will ever remember this game, which is a shame. This game is a reminder of so many things: how good Mario Manningham really was, what a somewhat competent defense looked like, what Obi Ezeh was before he was bludgeoned by unsolicited expectations that outpaced the growth of his abilities on the field, and what a quarterback with nothing to lose but a little more dignity could do. It also featured a hilarious interception return by Tim Jamison, as well as a somewhat depressing play in which Brandent Englemon failed to close in on a pretty slow Omar Conteh, who went on to bust a long touchdown run past him. That was one of the more embarrassing moments in Michigan safety play of the last 10 years, of which there are,of course, many. I remember thinking this exact thought after that play: "Man, we really need to upgrade our safety talent."
Either way, this was the game that officially got Michigan's head above water, putting them at 3-2 (2-0) for the season. It had to be done and the senior did it, silently and without pomp. He'd done this before.
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