Note: This blog is intended as satire. Any reference to any real people is entirely fictional. Seriously. Except the part about Kirk Ferentz wanting bubble gum.
November 27, 2015
BRISTOL, CONN. - For casual football fans, the University of Iowa Hawkeyes' undefeated season has been a nice storyline. And obviously, fans in the Hawkeye state are thrilled. But that same enthusiasm has not affected the "guys who have all the fun",
According to several sources deep in the bowels of ESPN's College Football Division in Bristol, several sources, insisting on anonymity for fear of job repercussions, that "the brass is rattled over Iowa," and "they just don't know what the fuck we're going to do with the Hawkeyes." It seems that ESPN has been willfully ignoring Iowa's surge of victories this fall, dismissing each one as a fluke and quite confident that they would eventually stumble or, perhaps, even better, just cease to exist.
Olivia Bolero was not surprised when she was summoned to her bosses' office at ESPN in late October for what was termed in the email subject line "A chance to get everyone on the same page". She knew her bosses would want to discuss her desire to mention the Iowa Hawkeyes during discussion of possible so-called "play-off spots" that are given to the best four teams in Division 1 FBS college football.
"I'd had Iowa on my radar for a while," she said. "They beat Wisconsin on the road in their Big Ten opener, they were pretty balanced, they hadn't--I believe--given up a rushing touchdown at that point. I mean, I wasn't saying they were gonna win it all or anything. I just thought we should mention them, like 40-some-odd other teams we were mentioning."
Bolero is no homer. Born and raised in Albuquerque, New Mexico, she attended Syracuse University in New York to study Communication and Broadcasting.
"It's one of the best schools in the country for that particular field of study," she said.
Bolero had several job offers upon graduation, but her passion for sports, particularly college football, led her to ESPN, where she toiled for several years before being being promoted to senior Gameday assistant producer.
"It was like a dream," she said. "I'd finally be having some influence on content."
Her superiors seemed to approve as well, she said. She had been mentioned as the next Beth Mowins, known for being the first female play-by-play announcer for college football. But that started changing in October.
"At first it wasn't a big deal," she said. "I mean, yeah, whatever."
After Iowa blew the shit out of Northwestern on the road, Bolero began to put her foot down.
"I said, 'Look, we have an 8-0 team here. We're not doing our jobs if we don't make them part of the conversation.'"
Her superiors didn't agree. She says that she may have let it go had someone given her a straight answer, but all she got were remarks like "Nah, they don't pass the eye test." "What, do you think we're actually in the business of talking about who wins games and doesn't lose them?" "I'm not even sure where Iowa is. They grow potatoes there, right?"
The day of the fateful meeting was the Tuesday after the Northwestern game, when planning began in earnest for that weekend edition's of "College Gameday".
"At first they were all buddy-buddy. You know, "We value your opinion" and "We know you're a team player."
Bolero wasn't asking for much. She wanted to insert a one minute segment on how the Hawkeyes were 8-0, despite a rash of serious injuries, including to Iowa's All Big Ten defensive end Drew Ott. That's when things got terse.
"Olivia, seriously now. Let's be frank. This thing isn't about wins and losses. It's about passion, prestige, teams with maroon [Alabama and Oklahoma, presumably] in their uniforms, head coaches who wear visors."
Bolero again laid out her case: an 8-0 team, a balanced offense, solid defense, convincing victories, "I would have even given on the time. But I really felt like we needed to give our viewers something. They depend on ESPN for the best college football coverage."
Her bosses then presented her with a choice:
"Either you let Iowa go, get on board with our SEC West-Ohio State-Big 12 script, or you're going to find yourself covering curling next week."
Bolero refused, and she was summarily, in her words, "asked to leave, and not to let the door hit her on the ass on the way out."
Reached for comment, Bolero's immediate supervisor, Jeff Long--oops, I mean Dan Stevenson--said, "We all know Olivia is frustrated. But you know, we're trying to build a narrative here, and we need all hands on deck. Besides, we all know that there's only one show in town in Iowa, and it's the Buckeyes."
Further phone calls and emails to ESPN executives were not immediately returned.
"You should see these guys," said a sound man speaking on condition of anonymity. "Olivia hasn't seen anything. They were just shitting their pants when it became apparent that we were going to have to say something about them being 11-0 for the Nebraska game today. Luckily, Nebraska's uniforms are red, which is sort of close to maroon, and they were playing for bowl eligibility. So they jumped on that angle and agreed to show some stock footage of Brad Banks almost winning the Heisman to cover their ass."
Asked how high up the disrespect went, Bolero sighed. "You know, I hate to say this, but I think it goes all the way to the top. Everybody likes Kirk Herbstreit, of course. Helluva nice guy. But he sees (Oklahoma quarterback) Baker Mayfield and his eyes just glaze over. Lee Corso, he's just batshit crazy. They just give him costumes and he fucks around with them and then says some crazy shit. And Rece Davis--well, I guess I can say it now that I don't work there--Rece is just a fuck. A complete fuck."
But Bolero, who accepted a position at the FOX affiliate in her hometown of Albuquerque, suspects an even deeper ignorance.
"I wouldn't be surprised if the CFPC (College Football Playoff Committee is in on it," she speculated. "I mean, think about it. These people meet in the bowels of Texas and take two days to rate teams. Two days? Texas? There's no way that's all about football. Keep in mind, it is legal to drive with an open container and loaded firearm in Texas."
Jeff Long, president of the CFPC, categorically denied that charge, but then seemed to go off on a tangent.
"Absolutely not. Our time is spent relentlessly discussing which teams have the best body of work at this point in the season. When considering bodies of work, of course we consider wins and losses....but you know, we do like maroon. That Bob Stoops, he has one hell of a visor. Really projects confidence. I think you take an average team, dress them up in maroon, they immediately get better. Oh, and a maroon team in the SEC--don't get me started..."
When reminded that the original question had concerned Iowa, Long seemed to be dazed. "Oh yeah. Well yeah, You say they haven't lost? Well, I guess that has to be a factor. Any way they can wear maroon their next game? Potatoes, right?"
When asked for comment, Iowa coach Kirk Ferentz initially declined to comment. However, when offered a package of Hubba-Bubba, he immediately agreed to be interviewed.
"I don't know how good we are, but we play hard. No question. Damn, this bubble gum's good. Can you get me a case?"
When pressed on the issue, he relented just a bit.
"Well, certainly we'd like to recognized. But I always tell the guys, we just have to take care of what's in front of us. If we do that, the details will take care of themselves. Except for Corso. That dude was batshit crazy back in the 80's when he coached Indiana and we played against them with Hayden (Fry). God, we loved playing them. Got any more of that gum?"
Now that the Hawkeyes have beat Nebraska--thus crumpling another ESPN narrative--Bristol is on red alert.
"They're looking for something, anything," said the sound man. "I've been in this business a long time, and I've never seen anything like it. I've seen mysterious briefcases, hard drives being handcuffed to people's wrists, the gamut. My guess? I wouldn't be surprised if the dome at Lucas Oil Stadium suffered 'a mysterious incident' and they couldn't play the Big Ten Championship Game. Then they'd invent some bullshit excuse like 'the conference didn't have a clear winner' and find some other maroon teams to go in there."
Bolero agrees.
"I'm not saying they're going to win in Indy. That's a tough game, whoever they end up playing. But let's say they win. The absolute last thing they're going to do is say, 'Wow, Iowa has won all their games, lost none, won their conference, and deserve to play for a championship.' It wouldn't be that tough to do it. You know, 'We take our hats off to them' and all that jazz. But I'm not terribly optimistic. Some of the greatest minds in sports work at ESPN. They'll figure some way to delegitimize a 13-0 Iowa team."
For his part, Long equivocated.
"Well, I'm not saying we wouldn't take an undefeated Iowa team. I'm not saying that at all. But I do have problems comparing them to, say, an 11-2 Alabama team, or a 11-1 Oklahoma team. I mean, Bob Stoops, Nick Saban--they're just complete assholes. The committee respects that."
Meanwhile, its seems to be All Systems Go at ESPN. The latest inquiry, via email, received an automatic "out of office" reply:
"Your questions are important to us and we will get back to you as soon as possible. And don't accuse us of being anti-Iowa. We're eating potatoes with every goddamn meal."
Friday, November 27, 2015
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
GIVING THANKS, or: Of Kuemper High School and a Big, Fat, Yellowish Moon
El octavo día Dios, después de tanto trabajar,
Para liberar tensiones, y luego ya de revisar,
Dijo --Todo está muy bien, es hora de descansar--
Y se fue a dar un paseo por el espacio sideral
"Octavo dia", Shakira
*****
Well, I probably haven't worked all THAT hard, certainly not as hard as God did for the first seven days, BUT, I am off of work for the next several days, and everything is okay, right now, so I decided to go for a little walk. I didn't--couldn't--walk in space like He/She/It/They did, but, you know, I had to get something for supper, so--Hy-Vee?
Good enough for me.
*****
I START OFF NORTH. Something I realized this afternoon, walking to Hy-Vee, is that I always sort of walk in a square, thus going in each of the cardinal directions at some point during the walk. I'm not sure if I do this on purpose, on a subconscious level, or if that's just reading too much into things. I have a habit of doing that, you know. You probably know that, if you're reading this.
I got an unexpected little surprise right before my walk. Found out both my kids would be staying at friends' houses for the night. I was already expecting a nice, relaxing evening at home, but wow. No kids!!! That means "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" without worrying if the kids can hear the curse words. That means I can eat supper out of a can and not feel guilty. It means I can go to bed as early or as late as I want, thank you very much.
As far as I'm concerned, that in and of itself is worth giving thanks for.
*****
WEST. THE SUN IS JUST ABOUT below the horizon, just on top of the tree line. Ten minutes, tops, until sunset. One thing I just started doing is tracking sunrise and sunset times and including them in my journal entries. I'm not sure where this idea came from, but I like it. I know, for example, that the sun being where it is, it's gotta be about 4:30. I also know that this is very early.
Winter fucking sucks. It just. fucking sucks. But as I walk, I know that the solstice is less than a month away, and after that the sun will start being out a little longer each day, and that is part of how I deal with the constant cold and darkness.
My mind wanders. It's wandering to Cuzco, Peru. My students have been researching the Inca empire; Cuzco was its capital. I've been there, eight years ago. I'm thinking maybe we should go back, me and Sonia and the kids. We lived in Lima last summer, and it was all right, but it was just...not us. Cuzco, that's more us. You're high up in the mountains and life moves slower and it's a little harder to breathe but nothing that some coca leaves can't fix, and the people there have rosy cheeks, and their Spanish has just a hint of sing-song in it, and the Incas are practically living with you, what with their rocks and walls and food and language around. And the people, they're just SO incredibly nice, and I think it would be the perfect place to have a living room with a fireplace and bedrooms with little portable heaters and Inca blankets, and play sapo on the weekends and drink chicha, and learn and live in another culture, because that's the addictive crackish thing about traveling, that opportunity to be in another culture and think about what's really what.
I'm not sure I could miss another baseball season, though. Especially with the way the Cubs are looking.
*****
VEERING SOUTH. There is a young boy, Niko or Orlando's age, not any older or younger, playing outside. He's by himself but that's okay, if there's snow. We got a nice little batch last four nights ago. Not a ton but more than a little, enough to have to move out of the driveway. Enough that Orlando was up constantly throughout the night, asking us if he could go outside yet. Him and Niko played outside for HOURS on Saturday.
Today, there's not too much left. That's what happens when it snows this early in the season: it warms up again and melts the snow and the kids don't have any left to play with. This kid is piling up snow but there just isn't enough to do much with; when he moves the snow, there's just grass underneath. And it's still green, that's what's really crazy. It snowed so early, then melted so quickly, that there are patches of snow next to bright green grass. It would be hard, even if one were a pretend aspiring writer, to find a more perfect metaphor for the intersection of the seasons.
*****
I ARRIVE AT HY-VEE AND reflexively check my pockets. I have my phone, but no wallet. How am I going to buy what I came for? I can't buy anything. The trip was a waste....
*****
I MAKE MY FINAL TURN, EAST, and immediately I see the moon, a big, fat, yellowish moon, hanging just over the trees like the sun was a few minutes before. It's almost full, not sure if it's waxing or waning, not sure if I'm even sure what those words mean, but it's a pretty moon, pretty enough that I notice it, and there are an awful lot of things I don't notice.
When I was 18 years old--twenty years ago, now--I went on this retreat for church. We drove over two hours to get there, to Carroll, Iowa, to Kuemper Catholic High School. It was, and I assume continues to be, an old high school, nooks and crannies everywhere and just that FEELING, you know, a lot of kids have been through here. My principal reasons for going were not of a religious nature. I wanted a) to meet girls and b) meet more girls. And I did. We even had a dance, the 30 or 40 or 50 or so of us on this retreat. Tip for young men: do church stuff. The ladies will always outnumber you.
A funny thing happened, though. We had some session. I don't remember anything about what it was supposed to be about, and I don't remember anything that we said. But when we were leaving the room I was thinking about my mom, who had died just a couple of months before this. And it must have shown, because when the session ended some girl in a cardigan, wearing heavy makeup, some Kuemper girl, not one of the religious goodie-two-shoes, a "normal" girl, some girl I really didn't even know all that well, asked me, "Mark, are you okay?" And I turned around, and--and this is really uncharacteristic of me--I said "No." I said, "I miss my mom." And she said, "Oh." and she hugged me. And I cried and cried and cried, that nose snorting, heavy sobbing body cleansing cry, and I soaked her cardigan in tears and snot, and she didn't say a word, and it was the perfect thing to say.
*****
HOME. TWILIGHT. ALL FOUR DIRECTIONS duly walked, I turn around. The last rays of the sun are splashing, low, across the sky, and it's pretty, and it reminds me, because sometimes I forget, that God, even when you're forgetting about Him/Her/It/Them, has a way of finding you, even if you're actively trying to avoid Him/Her/It/Them in search of the opposite sex, He/She/It/Them has a funny habit of hanging a big fat yellowish moon where you can't help but see it, of putting a kind young woman with too much makeup in a hallway with you, of splashing a pretty, but not splendid, sunset across the sky, and if I should go Home anytime soon, there are definitely worse images in the world to have in my mind.
Para liberar tensiones, y luego ya de revisar,
Dijo --Todo está muy bien, es hora de descansar--
Y se fue a dar un paseo por el espacio sideral
"Octavo dia", Shakira
*****
Well, I probably haven't worked all THAT hard, certainly not as hard as God did for the first seven days, BUT, I am off of work for the next several days, and everything is okay, right now, so I decided to go for a little walk. I didn't--couldn't--walk in space like He/She/It/They did, but, you know, I had to get something for supper, so--Hy-Vee?
Good enough for me.
*****
I START OFF NORTH. Something I realized this afternoon, walking to Hy-Vee, is that I always sort of walk in a square, thus going in each of the cardinal directions at some point during the walk. I'm not sure if I do this on purpose, on a subconscious level, or if that's just reading too much into things. I have a habit of doing that, you know. You probably know that, if you're reading this.
I got an unexpected little surprise right before my walk. Found out both my kids would be staying at friends' houses for the night. I was already expecting a nice, relaxing evening at home, but wow. No kids!!! That means "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" without worrying if the kids can hear the curse words. That means I can eat supper out of a can and not feel guilty. It means I can go to bed as early or as late as I want, thank you very much.
As far as I'm concerned, that in and of itself is worth giving thanks for.
*****
WEST. THE SUN IS JUST ABOUT below the horizon, just on top of the tree line. Ten minutes, tops, until sunset. One thing I just started doing is tracking sunrise and sunset times and including them in my journal entries. I'm not sure where this idea came from, but I like it. I know, for example, that the sun being where it is, it's gotta be about 4:30. I also know that this is very early.
Winter fucking sucks. It just. fucking sucks. But as I walk, I know that the solstice is less than a month away, and after that the sun will start being out a little longer each day, and that is part of how I deal with the constant cold and darkness.
My mind wanders. It's wandering to Cuzco, Peru. My students have been researching the Inca empire; Cuzco was its capital. I've been there, eight years ago. I'm thinking maybe we should go back, me and Sonia and the kids. We lived in Lima last summer, and it was all right, but it was just...not us. Cuzco, that's more us. You're high up in the mountains and life moves slower and it's a little harder to breathe but nothing that some coca leaves can't fix, and the people there have rosy cheeks, and their Spanish has just a hint of sing-song in it, and the Incas are practically living with you, what with their rocks and walls and food and language around. And the people, they're just SO incredibly nice, and I think it would be the perfect place to have a living room with a fireplace and bedrooms with little portable heaters and Inca blankets, and play sapo on the weekends and drink chicha, and learn and live in another culture, because that's the addictive crackish thing about traveling, that opportunity to be in another culture and think about what's really what.
I'm not sure I could miss another baseball season, though. Especially with the way the Cubs are looking.
*****
VEERING SOUTH. There is a young boy, Niko or Orlando's age, not any older or younger, playing outside. He's by himself but that's okay, if there's snow. We got a nice little batch last four nights ago. Not a ton but more than a little, enough to have to move out of the driveway. Enough that Orlando was up constantly throughout the night, asking us if he could go outside yet. Him and Niko played outside for HOURS on Saturday.
Today, there's not too much left. That's what happens when it snows this early in the season: it warms up again and melts the snow and the kids don't have any left to play with. This kid is piling up snow but there just isn't enough to do much with; when he moves the snow, there's just grass underneath. And it's still green, that's what's really crazy. It snowed so early, then melted so quickly, that there are patches of snow next to bright green grass. It would be hard, even if one were a pretend aspiring writer, to find a more perfect metaphor for the intersection of the seasons.
*****
I ARRIVE AT HY-VEE AND reflexively check my pockets. I have my phone, but no wallet. How am I going to buy what I came for? I can't buy anything. The trip was a waste....
*****
I MAKE MY FINAL TURN, EAST, and immediately I see the moon, a big, fat, yellowish moon, hanging just over the trees like the sun was a few minutes before. It's almost full, not sure if it's waxing or waning, not sure if I'm even sure what those words mean, but it's a pretty moon, pretty enough that I notice it, and there are an awful lot of things I don't notice.
When I was 18 years old--twenty years ago, now--I went on this retreat for church. We drove over two hours to get there, to Carroll, Iowa, to Kuemper Catholic High School. It was, and I assume continues to be, an old high school, nooks and crannies everywhere and just that FEELING, you know, a lot of kids have been through here. My principal reasons for going were not of a religious nature. I wanted a) to meet girls and b) meet more girls. And I did. We even had a dance, the 30 or 40 or 50 or so of us on this retreat. Tip for young men: do church stuff. The ladies will always outnumber you.
A funny thing happened, though. We had some session. I don't remember anything about what it was supposed to be about, and I don't remember anything that we said. But when we were leaving the room I was thinking about my mom, who had died just a couple of months before this. And it must have shown, because when the session ended some girl in a cardigan, wearing heavy makeup, some Kuemper girl, not one of the religious goodie-two-shoes, a "normal" girl, some girl I really didn't even know all that well, asked me, "Mark, are you okay?" And I turned around, and--and this is really uncharacteristic of me--I said "No." I said, "I miss my mom." And she said, "Oh." and she hugged me. And I cried and cried and cried, that nose snorting, heavy sobbing body cleansing cry, and I soaked her cardigan in tears and snot, and she didn't say a word, and it was the perfect thing to say.
*****
HOME. TWILIGHT. ALL FOUR DIRECTIONS duly walked, I turn around. The last rays of the sun are splashing, low, across the sky, and it's pretty, and it reminds me, because sometimes I forget, that God, even when you're forgetting about Him/Her/It/Them, has a way of finding you, even if you're actively trying to avoid Him/Her/It/Them in search of the opposite sex, He/She/It/Them has a funny habit of hanging a big fat yellowish moon where you can't help but see it, of putting a kind young woman with too much makeup in a hallway with you, of splashing a pretty, but not splendid, sunset across the sky, and if I should go Home anytime soon, there are definitely worse images in the world to have in my mind.
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