They don't play games on paper

To formally start my cousin’s wedding reception Saturday night, my uncle congratulated and bowed to the large contingent of Gopher fans on the groom’s side. After a loud cheer, he added, “But there are more important things than football…”

Indeed, but I just wanted to imitate my uncle’s gesture and commend the Minnesota Golden Gophers for showing the impassive and undeserving Hawkeyes how to play football: opportunistic, hungry, and determined.

Though as levelheaded and reasonable as I am, it was hard not being swept up by all the pre-season hype surrounding the 2010 Hawkeyes. Everyone (myself included) talked of a Big Ten championship and another BCS birth (preferably the Rose). There was also, of course, bold predictions of the Black and Gold playing for the coveted crystal ball in Glendale. The only obstacle to an undefeated season, many believed, was the visit to Tucson on September 18. Just as they had before, they considered our conference schedule a formality to whatever glory awaited in early-January.

The National Championship talk was, I thought, farfetched, but I believed Kirk Ferentz had a team to compete for the last Big Ten title of the 11-team era. With contests against Wisconsin, Michigan State, and Ohio State at home, I thought the Hawks had the friendliest route to Pasadena. The season looked to be one for Hawkeye lore, and I think it has been very memorable…though mostly because it has been so much of a disappointment.

This season is why I am a firm believer in the old sports cliché and its many permutations: “They don’t play games on paper.”

However, let’s put 7-5 in perspective.

I remember the last play of the 1999 Minnesota-Iowa game. With the ball inside the Gopher five-yard line, the Hawks needed a touchdown to avoid a winless conference record. In anticipation, I knelt in front of the small Samsung TV in our living room. Iowa’s QB took the ball from center, dropped back, and launched the pigskin toward the end zone. The pass was batted down by a Minnesota lineman and the Gophers celebrated. Despondent, I fell onto my back and laid on the floor while I let the thought sink in: the Hawks had gone 0-8 in the Big Ten, 1-10 overall. I had believed winless and one-win seasons were a thing of the past, of my dad’s memories of taking cases of beer into Kinnick Stadium. But there it was live on TV, during my lifetime. It was an unbelievable feeling.

After a 3-9 (3-5) season in 2000 (when I remember Mervgotti excitedly saying at one point, “If we had won a couple more games, we could have actually gone to a bowl!”), the Hawks finished 2001 with an Alamo Bowl win against Texas Tech and a 7-5 (4-4) record. Everyone — and I mean everyone — was ecstatic after a three-year bowl drought.

This year, 7-5 (4-4) is a disappointment. It’s understandable, but, then again, not a bad season. The Hawks are, undeservedly, going bowling. And much like Bobblehead, I will be watching the Gator or Insight Bowl and cheering the Hawks with a PBR in hand.

There is, at least, one good thing about “The Collapse”: season tickets won’t be hard to get next year.