The Solid Verbal returns to break down all the action from "Tire Fire Saturday," including Ohio State's passing offense, a near "Clemsoning," and more unfortunate uniform combinations.
Plus, Ty Hildenbrandt and Dan Rubenstein examine Denard Robinson as a passer, propose a support group for disheartened wide receivers from the Midwest, and explain what Maryland football has in common with Forrest Gump. Oh, and more listener voice messages.
In the wake of an anticlimactic Red River Rivalry game, Ty Hildenbrandt and Dan Rubenstein review college football’s sixth week. They discuss another Honey Badger attack, the Urban Meyer-to-Penn State rumors, and Texas A&M’s generous defense.
Hildenbrandt and Rubenstein also rank the the top five teams in the ACC, take a stand against celebration penalties, and analyze Brady Hoke’s “QB Eagles” treatment of Denard Robinson. Plus, more listener voice messages.
The week of the almost-upset has mercifully ended. In some ways, this is the worst week of all. Your hopes are elevated, you're primed for some fantastic endings, and then it all crashes on your head like a wet straw roof. We've all been there, right? Let's take a quick tour through the various kinds of non-upsets provided by a fiendish Week 6.
1. DENARD
There’s a reason He is here, and that’s because He is an extraterrestrial being sent down to usher us into the future. I mean, His middle initial is X! Is that not enough proof for you? Remember that Twilight Zone episode when the kindly old traveling salesman comes upon a washed-up baseball player in a tavern that suspiciously resembles every tavern in every Twilight Zone episode ever, and the salesman offers him a bus ticket to Scranton, Pa., and then moments later, a phone rings and the baseball player has a job offer in Scranton? That’s Denard. He’s carrying our bus ticket to Scranton. He’s the harbinger of where football is headed, even if we don’t yet realize it, even if He may not be there to lead us.
When I was a kid, before I knew any better, I rooted for Notre Dame football. You can blame the influence of my stepfather or my Catholic roots or the musty old books I found in the school library, with their whitewashed tales of Knute Rockne. It certainly didn't hurt that starting in 1991, every Irish home game was on television. In any case, one of the greatest moments of my young life came in 1993, when Notre Dame beat Charlie Ward and no. 1 Florida State 31-24 in the second-to-last game of the season. All that remained was to knock off Boston College at home, and the Irish would have a shot at a national championship.
But things didn't go as planned. The Eagles jumped out fast and held their ground. It took a furious 22-point, fourth-quarter comeback for Notre Dame to reclaim a slim lead near the end, but David Gordon, BC's left-footed kicker, found himself lining up a 41-yard attempt with seconds left to pull off a stunner. The kick wobbled, and appeared to be heading right. I still remember the tiny swell of hope as I let my mind map out the ball's trajectory. It would veer wide, wouldn't it?
No. Gordon had done his worst.
A year or two later, I realized there was no good reason for me to support Notre Dame. In college football terms, I became a man without a country. That's continued to present day, and it's actually quite a nice break from the usual stress of affiliation. But the melodic strains of those two weeks in 1993 have persisted, reemerging from time to time in my personal sports landscape. Ward played 10 seasons for my New York Knicks, including the ill-fated 1999 trip to the NBA Finals. After his starring role in my personal sports tragedy, Boston College coach Tom Coughlin later balanced his karmic output in one of my greatest triumphs — a New York Giants Super Bowl win against the hated, undefeated Patriots. And 17 years to the day after his kick, David Gordon married my elderly Aunt Gloria.
Just kidding on that last one. Nevertheless, the connection lingers. That's the origin story, and this is Gordon's Left Foot.
