My parents live in Yerevan, Armenia (why the hell not?). For taxation purposes, they cannot spend more than 30 days in any calendar year back in the United States. They just returned for the first time since Christmas to see my wedding (now eight days off). Thus, Dad, the man who taught me to love college football more than any other sport, got to sit down with me and see, for the very first time, the 2003 Fiesta Bowl — where my other alma mater won its first national championship in 34 years.
At the end of the game, Dad said, “That’s the greatest college football game ever that I’ve seen.” This means a lot, coming from a man who has followed the game closely since the mid-1950s, and who is certainly not a fan of Ohio State.
Despite what Maurice Clarett has done to tarnish this contest since then, it’s hard to argue otherwise. Four times, a team (twice Ohio State, twice Miami) stood at fourth-down-and-ballgame. Three out of the four times, the involved team survived. But beyond that, there’s nothing more thrilling than watching a significant underdog (13 points) struggling against a fabulously talented opponent, to the brink of catastrophe and back, over and over, through two overtimes, until they finally power their way, with their defense on the field, into a national championship for the ages.
And it certainly doesn’t hurt when all of your friends from Pitt are openly rooting for Miami out of loyalty to the Big East Conference. Too bad Miami didn’t return that loyalty.
In any case, only one sports-related event could mean more to me than my long-suffering Buckeyes winning a game like that. And that’s if my even-longer-suffering Panthers won it all. None of Pitt’s current players can remember how terrible Pitt was in the Paul Hackett days. Only those of us who were stubborn and (face it) stupid enough to adopt the Panthers then can, and that’s probably for the best. First, I thought that Pitt would never stay in Division I-A. Then, I thought that Pitt would never surpass (let alone beat) Penn State. Then, I thought that Pitt would never make the top ten. Then, I thought that Pitt would never sell out its stadium unless Notre Dame was in town. Now, I don’t know what to think some days (although my long-learned pessimism certainly isn’t dead).
That Pitt has rebuilt to the level it’s at now is miraculous, and I have to remind myself of that sometimes. If Pitt can even get a whiff of the national championship this season, I’ll be ecstatic. But if Pitt could actually rebuild all the way back to 1976 (and don’t even think of bringing up that “Back to the Future” crap)… well, could there be a bigger underdog? I mean, do you remember the Paul Hackett days!?
(By the way, just now, during the halftime show of the Cal/Utah game, Trev Alberts garanteed that North Carolina State would beat Ohio State this Saturday. That does it. I’m refinancing the house, running to Vegas, and putting it all on the Buckeyes.)
I don’t have any jpeg’s of hotties that ratings-starved Fox Sports trots out there in a pitful attempt get anybody to notice (didn’t O’Rielly make fun of CNN’s pushing Paula Zahn?), so I’ll just sign out.
Hail to Paul Hackett’s Sitting Somewhere Out There, Feeling Guilty For Ever Cashing a Paycheck in Oakland
