Commitment to Excellence: Week 5 vs. Lincoln

JV: d. Lincoln 55-8; 4-1 (3-1 SEC)
Freshmen: d. Lincoln 47-14; 2-2-1 (1-2-1 SEC)

Chelsea Varsity Football 2007 record: 5-0 (4-0 SEC)


Ground control to Major Bush; take your protein pills and put your helmet on.


Scott Naab isn’t easily distracted; he’s made from concentrate.

When it comes to football, despite having an excellent mascot — an ax-wielding U.S. president! — Lincoln has had more struggles than success. The history of Railsplitter football is not overflowing with victories, but the last decade in particular offers a stark picture of a program mired in a very deep depression. From 1997 through 2006, the statistics show:

  • Overall record: 19-76 (a winning percentage of .200)
  • Two winning seasons (1997, 1998)
  • Eight seasons of 2 wins or fewer

The numbers are fully representative of the reality: Lincoln football is a mess. Over the last three and a half seasons (including this year’s game against Chelsea), Lincoln has gone a miserable 1-31, with the lone victory coming in 2003 against a Dexter team that also finished 1-8. And many of those losses haven’t even been competitive; Lincoln’s average margin of defeat in that time period is 34 points.

This litany of futility is in no way intended as an insult to Lincoln football; I do not take joy in seeing high school football programs mired in such a sad state. But with Lincoln in the SEC, it’s something we in Chelsea can’t really forget; Chelsea has defeated Lincoln by an average of 33 points since 1999 (including this year’s game), and as one of the previous statistics showed, Chelsea isn’t alone in achieving lopsided defeats of Lincoln. Something is severely broken in the football program, and for the sake of the athletes at Lincoln, the losing culture of Lincoln football needs to be changed. That is neither an easy nor a short process, but it is possible; I hope to see another competitive Railsplitter football team before another decade passes. It would be good for everyone.

I’ll leave the opinionated analysis of the successes and failures in the Lincoln athletic department for someone more credibly able to detail them; regardless of the state of Lincoln football, there was a game Friday.


Dean Roberts had a snack, but he’s still hungry.

On Friday, I was concerned that Chelsea players and fans may have arrived at the facility on Willis Road in a dangerous mindset. The previous week’s game against Adrian was a hard-fought victory, the following week’s game will bring Saline to Jerry Niehaus Field, and the last time Lincoln was competitive with Chelsea was back when the current seniors were nine years old; between the strong teams bookending the Lincoln game and the cupcakerous tendencies of the Railsplitters, this game would have been easy to overlook. I knew it would take a lot of overlooking for Chelsea to lose this game, and I knew the coaches had done everything they could to keep the players’ minds on Lincoln, but … well, I was at the stadium for Michigan’s loss to Appalachian State, so I think I am justified in being mildly paranoid. Happy thoughts … Notre Dame … Penn State … Mike Hart … okay, back to Chelsea.


Chris Schmelz distracts a defender with Zoolander‘s Blue Steel look.


If Sam Birgy closes his eyes, you can’t see Nick Hill (32) and Jeff Adams!


Excuse me, but Tyler Ball would like to discuss something with your quarterback.


Is this official a Texas Longhorns fan, or does he just want to rock on?

The opening kickoff certainly helped allay my fears of a fatally distracted team; Chris Schmelz took the opening kickoff and ran, Forrest, ran for 82 yards to open up a quick 7-0 lead. The rest of the first half featured four more Chelsea touchdowns, including a highlight-reel one-handed touchdown catch by Schmelz, a thoroughly enjoyable 64-yard touchdown pass from Michael Lenneman — who, by the way, isn’t the quarterback — to Donny Riedel, and an outstanding 71-yard touchdown run (that was described to me by a friend as something out of a video game) by quarterback Jeff Adams; at halftime, Chelsea held a comfortable 34-7 lead, and all was well in Bulldogland. Well, it was an away game, so I suppose all was well in Portable Bulldogland.


Randy Cox is not afraid to show affection on the football field.


With no defenders in sight, Jeff Adams is forced to stiff-arm his own teammate.

In the second half, Chelsea coach Brad Bush brought in substitutes, and Chelsea fans started to get a good look at Lincoln’s developing young Studly Stud McStuderson, sophomore quarterback Andrew Dillon. He had shown flashes of ability both to throw good passes and to get out of trouble with his feet in the first half, but the Chelsea defense was strong enough — and, occasionally, his receivers were droppy enough — to limit the Lincoln offense to one scoring drive late in the first half; in the second half, Dillon began to showcase his immense potential by leading the Railsplitters to three touchdowns in the second half. He had help from speedy running back Travis Davidson, but Dillon himself displayed ability that could make him a good foundation for a competitive football team. If the Lincoln staff develops a team around him, he could lead them to a few more wins over the next two years.


With one mighty gesture, Grant Fanning can change entire defenses.


Steven O’Keefe is coming for you. Especially if your name is End Zone.

When Dillon wasn’t on the field being all capable and stuff, the Chelsea offense was in the hands of junior quarterback Randy Cox; he made sure Dillon’s efforts didn’t morph into heroics by leading Chelsea to two more touchdowns, one a pass to Jason Kolokithas and the other a 1-yard keeper. Those touchdowns were more than enough to seal another Chelsea victory, keeping the team undefeated and putting it one win away from ensuring a ninth consecutive playoff appearance.


No, Riley Feeney is not interested in any peace treaty, thank you very much.

Leftovers:

  • Yet again, Chelsea was outgained by its opponent. This time, the margin was a bit larger; Lincoln gained 477 yards, while Chelsea gained 422. But yet again, Chelsea won.
  • During the game, I talked to Wayne Welton, Chelsea’s baseball coach; he informed me that Dillon pitched a 1-0 shutout of Chelsea last spring. Seriously, he’s good.
  • As you can see in the above pictures, Lincoln’s football uniforms bear a strong resemblance to the Detroit Lions’ throwback uniforms. I am a fan of the Lions’ throwbacks, so that’s fine by me.

Next week:
Chelsea faces the Hornets of Saline; the game is in Chelsea on Friday at 7:00 PM.

Euphemisms engaged

As many of you may know, I walk with a fairly obvious limp; what you may not know is the reason I walk with that limp. I’ll save all the details for another time; right now, I’ll just give you a name: Cerebral Palsy.

Since I was born with a condition ambulance-chasing lawyers think is tragically awesome, I get to park in those spacious blue parking spaces that always seem to be openly mocking all you able-bodied people. (It’s not your imagination; they really are mocking you. And so am I.) But more importantly, I get to be part of an important hyphenated cultural group: Euphemism-Americans.

I’m bringing this up now for two reasons. The first is my longstanding irritation with today’s vogue term, “disabled.” Those who know me well likely have heard me make some comment about the replacement of “handicapped” by “disabled”; those who don’t know me … well, I’ll summarize for all of you.

Consider the word in other contexts. A disabled car doesn’t work at all; a disabled software option doesn’t work at all; a disabled alarm system doesn’t work at all. It’s not just some glitch that makes it work less efficiently than most cars or software options or alarm systems; it is a total failure of that particular car, option or system. In that light, it seems to me that a disabled person would be dead, because dead people just don’t work (although they have been known to vote in Chicago); in that sense, it seems to me that disabled is actually closer to crippled — a term long fallen out of favor — than it is to handicapped. But somehow, that sense fades to the background when disabled is applied to people.

This confuses me a bit because the previous term, handicapped, made so much more sense; it seemed to me that its uses in other contexts actually made it fairly accurate in this context. But true to the long-term pattern of moving away from simple accuracy and towards something else I really don’t understand, handicapped fell out of favor, and disabled grew in stature and in favor with men. And now it is the reigning reference for Euphemism-Americans.

Ah, but even though disabled is the current reference of choice, there seems to be no end to the creativity modern society can exhibit when it comes to new and exciting terms for us Euphemism-Americans. And that creativity is the second reason I brought up my CP.

Just the other day, Legal Counsel Justin sent me a link to a page on the Toys “R” Us website. The subject line of his email read, “is this better than disabled?”; based on that subject line, I knew it had to be good. And my goodness, it was better than good. When I clicked the link, I was whisked away to a page that actually made me laugh out loud.

Kudos to you, Toys “R” Us, for making this Euphemism-American laugh. “Differently-abled” truly is a euphemism god among men.

—–

I should probably clarify a couple things:

First, though I don’t have any love for the term “disabled,” I certainly don’t consider it an offensive term. My disdain is not that pointed. I will not become upset if you use the term around me or in reference to me; in fact, I might even laugh at you. And in any case, I won’t even be close to offended, so don’t get all paranoid about it. The world is already paranoid about too many things.

Second, I am aware that there are other more specific terms in use, like “person with a disability.” And while I suppose that is a bit more accurate, it’s also wordy. And given the common use of the shorter disabled, those more specific wordy terms are probably culturally supplemental; the shorter terms are much more headline-friendly.

Lying down on the job

Last Friday, I photographed Chelsea’s football game at Adrian, which is why the previous post was full of pictures from that game. What I didn’t know was that as I photographed the team’s entrance onto the field, there was someone photographing me. Well, not me specifically, but I did manage to relax my way into the frame.

I’m there at the bottom of the picture, lying on the ground and yet hard at work at the same time. And while it may look like I’m about to get aerated by roughly 60 pairs of cleats, don’t worry; I was not in any danger. Trust me, I learned my lesson last year after I nearly got trampled one week and then actually got kicked in the head by a cheerleader a week or two later. Yeah, it was pretty amazing.

Anyway, that photo and article link appeared on the front page of Michigan Elite Football‘s website. It should be on the main page for another day or so; after that, I’ll be just another guy lying on the football field. But don’t worry; I saved a screen shot for posterity. (Unfortunately, the photo doesn’t accompany the full article, so posterity is out of luck with that link. Also, there’s no bigger version available, so keep squinting.)

Oh, and here’s one of the shots I got as I lounged on the grass:

Commitment to Excellence: Week 4 vs. Adrian

JV: d. Adrian 16-13; 3-1 (2-1 SEC)
Freshmen: d. by Adrian 15-20; 1-2-1 (0-2-1 SEC)

Chelsea Varsity 2007 record: 4-0 (3-0 SEC)


Michael Cooper gazes longingly into the distance and thinks of touchdowns.


When I work during the national anthem, I’m looking for shots like this one.


Your mom plays football for Chelsea.

Many schools choose mascots that have some sort of actively fierce quality — bulldogs are known for tenacity and fearlessness, pirates are known for their ruthlessness (but not for their resemblance to Johnny Depp), hornets are known for being pests — but Adrian football, like a certain poisonous nut school south of here, labors under the banner of an inanimate mascot. So, instead of the Adrian Fierce Animals, Ill-Tempered People or Unpleasant Insects, the football team takes the field each Friday as the Adrian Maples. And I don’t know about you, but that makes me think of syrup. And Canada. Oh, Canada.

Despite that syrupy sweet mascot with strong roots and aesthetically pleasing leaves, Adrian football has been a solidly consistent program; it has posted eight consecutive winning seasons with an average of over 7 wins each year, and after a 3-0 start in 2007, another winning season appears within reach. And since 2000, Adrian has posted a respectable 3-4 record against Chelsea (not including this year), whereas Dexter and Lincoln haven’t beaten Chelsea since 1995 and 1997 respectively, and Bedford has never beaten Chelsea. (Dexter nearly ended that streak last year.)

Over the years, I have become accustomed to seeing Adrian offenses that have been an effective hybrid between Tecumseh’s current offense and more typical offenses that do not keep the forward pass in a glass case that says “EMERGENCY USE ONLY”; there always seemed to be some big bruising running back ready to run straight into the line and gain five yards without really trying and ten yards with some effort, but there was more than enough of a passing game to keep the defensive secondary awake. If transferred to another hasty Photoshop diagram, my memories of the typical Adrian offense in years past would look something like this:

Last year, Adrian’s offense got all pass-happy due to the presence of quarterback Steve Threet, who was good enough to catch the attention of Georgia Tech. But despite high expectations brought on by the arm of Threet, Adrian managed only a 6-4 record, which included a first-round playoff loss. This year, the offense did not return to its Incredible Hulkingback self, but instead adapted to its new starting quarterback, who, unlike Threet and his Navarre-like lead feet, is so capable of making plays with his feet that he has already run for 200 yards against Michigan. That quarterback, Brent Ohrman, directed Adrian to a 3-0 start this season, making Friday’s game a clash of unbeatens. (As well as a clash of persistent dogs and really good shade trees highly valued for pancake-based applications.)

The pregame didn’t bode well for Adrian; as the teams were warming up, the announcer welcomed “the Chelsea Dreadnaughts.” The Dreadnaughts moniker does not belong to Chelsea; instead, it belongs to Dexter, one of Chelsea’s biggest sports rivals. That mix-up is essentially the local high school sports equivalent of welcoming the Michigan Buckeyes or the Notre Dame Trojans. The announcer quickly corrected himself, but the damage was done, and the Chelsea crowd was not particularly happy.


Jeff Adams is not being tackled; he is levitating. Gravity cannot stop him.


Sunshine on my shoulders makes me watch football. And that makes me happy.


And he was all like yeah, I’m going to run downfield. And Taylor Hopkins was all like um, no.

The first quarter went a long way towards helping Chelsea forget that incident. The Adrian offense struggled to gain meaningful yardage, and after 3-yard and 53-yard Nick Hill touchdown runs, Chelsea had a 14-0 lead. However, Chelsea also squandered opportunities; the ineffectiveness of Adrian’s offense gave Chelsea consistently good field position that, ideally, would have resulted in more than 14 points. The night prior, Chelsea’s JV had squandered good opportunities and ended up with a 16-13 victory on a last-second field goal; as I watched the varsity fail to capitalize on field position and momentum, I hoped the game wouldn’t come down to the last second. But Adrian could manage nothing more than a field goal in the first half, and Chelsea held an encouraging 14-3 halftime lead.

The second half had an even more encouraging start; the Chelsea offense marched down the field, and Hill dragged a would-be tackler into the end zone to score his third touchdown of the night on a 5-yard run. That touchdown gave Chelsea a somewhat commanding 21-3 lead, and everyone in the blue and gold was feeling good. But it was still only the third quarter, and Adrian was not yet ready to concede the game. Not long after that touchdown, the Chelsea offense stalled deep in its own territory, and Jeff Adams had to punt from his own end zone; the Adrian defense managed to block the punt and recover it in the end zone for a touchdown, cutting Chelsea’s lead to 21-10 and making the Chelsea faithful just a little bit nervous.


Dean Roberts looks hungry.


Nick Hill will break your tackle. Just like he will break you.


First down? The Chelsea offense needs no first down.


Donny Riedel cuts like a knife through the buttery goodness of your defense.

To make the Chelsea faithful even more nervous, the Chelsea offense began to sputter after the early third-quarter touchdown drive. Consistent yardage and first downs became scarce, resulting in short drives that didn’t give the defense much time to breathe; considering the fancy feet of Ohrman, the fatigue of the defense was a major concern. And Ohrman seemed to find a rhythm in the second half, moving around the field and making a few too many plays. But time and time again, the defense stood tall and made stops and forced turnovers, and Adrian was unable to score a single offensive point in the second half; thanks in large part to those second-half defensive stands, and because Tecumseh upset Saline that same evening, Chelsea walked off the field as the only unbeaten team in the SEC.


James Connelly is Batman.

Leftovers:

  • Though Ohrman was good at leaving Chelsea’s defense frustrated, Nick Hill actually outrushed Adrian as a whole. Hill accumulated 137 yards; Adrian accumulated 120.
  • Chelsea’s rushing game had a productive day (226 yards), but the passing game never got going (23 yards). Adrian threw for 146 yards, but couldn’t finish drives thanks to the Chelsea defense; despite several possessions in Chelsea territory in the fourth quarter, the offense ended up contributing only three points, and those came in the first half.
  • Yet again, Chelsea was outgained by its opponent: Adrian gained 266 yards, while Chelsea gained 249. Adrian also had five more first downs (18 to 13).
  • Heard during Thursday’s freshmen game: after one penalty, an irked parent (who happened to be from Adrian) shouted, “Make it fair for the kids!” Ah, the tragedy of a pass interference call. Save the children. Or read my thoughts from last year and stop yelling at the refs; your holding your tongue (or at the very least lowering your voice) and setting a decent example for your kids is more important than a penalty that may or may not be a debatable call.
  • Heard after Friday’s game: as I was walking out of the stadium, I passed two paramedics who were talking to another man. As I walked by, one of the paramedics was telling the man, “We don’t clean up after dead bodies.” I’m not sure I want any context for that one.
  • Adrian’s football stadium has been around for quite a while, and in many ways it is one of my favorite local stadiums. But I have one major gripe with it. The field has no track around it, which is something I always like to see; it brings the fans closer and gives the stadium a better atmosphere. But the seating areas were placed just a few feet too close to the field, making the sidelines a bit cramped and making the knee-high wall a real danger to players when they are forced out of bounds. On one occasion when Adams was chased out of bounds, he was unable to stop before he hit the wall; he happened to hit a crack in the wall, and while he (fortunately) escaped serious injury, he did end up with a cut on his lower leg. I realize the school district can’t make the sidelines any larger without a severely costly and impractical renovation, but I do have one suggestion: bring in padding for the concrete walls.

Next week:
Chelsea faces the Railsplitters of Lincoln; the game is at Lincoln on Friday at 7:00 PM.

[Expletive Deleted], vol. 2

A week ago, following Michigan’s unexpected loss at home to Appalachian State, I urged Michigan fans not to abandon the season:

So, with the ASU game in the past, I have a request to make of my temporarily irrational fellow Michigan fans: stop being a part of the hysteria problem. Drop the suicidal overreactions and the absurd calls for a mid-season coaching change; start getting ready for next Saturday, and the ten Saturdays after that. The mourning period is over, but the season isn’t.

Of course, the next Saturday saw Michigan lose badly to Oregon, and the fan base went from apoplectic to apathetic, from getting mad to giving up. Some who were in a rage after the ASU game became morose after the Oregon game, choosing simply to surrender the season in an effort to assuage any further pain they might feel as a result of further losses. As a result, the focus of some fans and blogs has started to turn to a new subject: the next coach. But while the change in focus is understandable in some ways, I think it is premature.

Believe me, I’m not going to try to sugarcoat the two previous losses, and I’m not going to try to force unrealistic optimism for the next ten games. The first two losses were bad, and right now, there is something broken inside this team; for Michigan football and its fans, this is not a pleasant happy time of smiles and kisses, and the potential basement for this season is not thrilling territory to explore. But bad or good, happy or unhappy, win or lose, it is still football season, and that still has meaning.

See, there’s something special about football Saturdays. In an email this week, Justin (Official Mindreader Legal Counsel) reminded me just how special these few Saturdays by describing his inability to read even in the quiet of the library on autumn Fridays because of the palpable excitement pervading the campus (which, I should probably note, isn’t Michigan’s campus):

On Friday afternoons, I cannot sit in the law school and read. … I remember one Friday, my first year, I was trying to read in the library, but I just couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t figure out what was going on – the library was quiet enough. So I decided to just take a quick walk. As soon as I opened the door, it was obvious that it was a home game weekend.

That undeniable atmosphere of excitement surrounding college football means that even though Michigan is 0-2, even though the offense is sluggish and the defense seems inept, even though there may be more losses this year, and even though the worst-case scenario hasn’t been this bad in years, I still care about this season, and I still look forward to football Saturdays. There are too few of them for me to spend them detached from my team and looking forward to the next coach; I want to spend them enjoying each victory and hating each loss, no matter which way the ratio swings. The offseason is long enough for everything else; the season is too short for anything but football.

Go ahead and talk about the next coach; it won’t kill me. But I’m a Michigan football fan, and there are ten more games. Ten more games for me to anticipate for a week, ten more games to win or lose, ten more games for me to care whether Michigan wins or loses, ten more games to complete the dose of college football that will help me endure the long cold offseason. There are just ten more games this year, and no matter what happens, I know they’ll be gone long before I’m ready for them to be gone. They always are. So after the season, I’ll be ready to talk about the program’s future, but for the next ten weeks, there is a present that demands my attention.

A recent comment on MGoBlog summed it up nicely:

All the recruiting details and stadium news and Big Ten Network mess is really only to tide us over until September. Now we all just forget about football because we lost two games? These Saturdays are the whole reason we care about any of the tangential pieces. I don’t care if we’re 0-11; all I’ll want is a break-down of the upcoming OSU game.

Go Blue; beat Notre Dame.

—–

Take note: The MZone reports that an email is circulating among former Michigan players, urging them to gather at the stadium tunnel to show their support for the current players as they exit the team bus. To strengthen that show of support, the MZone is urging fans to show up to let the players know that the fans are still behind them. I think this is an outstanding idea and a much-needed gesture right now.

Commitment to Excellence: Week 3 vs. Tecumseh

JV: d. Tecumseh 28-14; 2-1 (1-1 SEC)
Freshmen: tied Tecumseh 48-48; 1-1-1 (0-1-1 SEC)

Chelsea Varsity Football 2007 record: 3-0 (2-0 SEC)


John Hillaker is staring into your soul. And tackling it in the backfield.


Sure, they’re quiet now, but it won’t last.

Earlier this decade, Tecumseh football was enjoying a period of success that occurred largely due to a series of two superlative athletes. But as they are prone to do, the Studly Stud McStudersons expended their high school eligibility — I would say McStudersons are prone to graduate, but Jim Harbaugh might yell at me — and moved on to other pursuits. Without those talents to light up the scoreboard, Tecumseh football began a slide that eventually sent the football coach out the door.

Fortunately for the black and orange, the arrival of a new coach signaled the start of a new chapter in Tecumseh football this season. Unfortunately for photographers, videographers and almost everyone else who enjoys being able to follow a football game, the new coach installed an overwhelmingly high schoolesque offensive scheme that hearkens back to the days when the forward pass was an act of rebellion. Those of you familiar with high school football likely are familiar with the scheme: it features one quarterback (who functions as more of a football vending machine than anything else), three running backs, five offensive linemen and two tight ends. And no wide receivers. Ever. (Unless one of the tight ends happens to be particularly oversized and has good hands. But I think that’s a different sort of wide.)

For comparison, if transferred to a hasty Photoshop diagram, on any given play, Chelsea’s offense might look something like this:

Meanwhile, on pretty much every play, the Tecumseh offense looks a lot like this:

With infrequent exceptions, offensive plays from this scheme tend to follow this progression:

  1. The center snaps the ball.
  2. The quarterback turns around and waves the ball at each of the three running backs.
  3. One of the running backs actually takes the ball and almost immediately makes a sharp turn into the offensive line and disappears in a cocoon that, since it consists of both offensive and defensive players, is at once protective and harmful. (Metaphysically-inclined football players struggle in this offense, since they tend to be distracted by that delicious contradiction.)
  4. The cocoon moves three to five yards down the field and stops, at which point the officials, who are desperately trying to see anything other than a mass of bodies, blow the whistle under the assumption that the ball carrier either is down or has been consumed by ravenous linemen. Either way, the play is over, so blowing it dead is the safe move.
  5. Rinse. Repeat.

Most exceptions occur when the offense executes a play that is actually designed to send the ball carrier to the mysterious land beyond the tight ends, and a few exceptions even happen to involve that nifty forward pass thing the kids are all talking about nowadays, but most plays end with a pile of 22 players in the middle of the field. Unless something goes horribly right (or wrong, depending on your perspective), in which case the pile of 22 players ends up in the wilderness outside the hash marks.

This offense has its advantages, one of which is that defensive players not in possession of x-ray vision — so, you know, all of them — may have a hard time seeing who has the ball, so they are in danger of tackling players who aren’t carrying the ball. (Aside from being obnoxious, this also gets to be a bit taxing.) Of course, this offense also has its disadvantages, one of which is that the most realistically successful options for third and 15 all involve punting. (In the CFL, that joke wouldn’t be funny. Look out for those goalposts! They’re in the end zone!)


Chelsea football players do not have a fear of commitment.


Was I lying on the ground? Yes. Why? I don’t remember.

Last Friday, Tecumseh brought its ploddingly thrilling new offense to the new Jerry Niehaus turf with the intent of pulling an upset the likes of which the football world hasn’t seen since the last two Saturdays. (Don’t throw things at me; I’m a Michigan fan.) And for a while, it seemed the Indians might have the chance to do just that. Chelsea’s offense moved up and down the field with the usual greatest of ease, but Tecumseh managed to find the end zone at the same rate; at one point, the score was an uncomfortably close 14-12, with Tecumseh’s complete and utter lack of a kicking game — every touchdown was followed by a two-point attempt — providing the meager two-point lead. The assumption was that Chelsea would eventually build a comfortable margin, but … well, you know, [cynical Michigan football comment].


Jason Kolokithas will fight to the death to protect the ball carrier. Your death.


Michael Roberts feels the rain on his skin. No one else can feel it for him.


Kyle Raymond opens for no one. Not even sesame.


No, Jeff Adams will not give you a hug. He has an urgent appointment with the end zone.


John Mann speaks during the turf dedication ceremony.


Oh, they grow up so fast!

To the delight of Chelsea loyalists, that assumption actually proved to be correct; Tecumseh’s side of the scoreboard stayed static for a good long time, while Chelsea’s side remained happily dynamic. Not long after Tecumseh narrowed the deficit to two, Chelsea quarterback Jeff Adams once again lofted a deep pass into the waiting arms of Chris Schmelz, who, like Dash from The Incredibles, occasionally forgets to conceal his superhuman speed and finds himself running past entire defenses full of slow-footed mortals; Schmelz, of course, took the pass to the end zone to increase Chelsea’s lead to nine. The Chelsea offense went on to reduce coach Brad Bush’s stress level even more: Nick Hill and Adams both scored to pad the lead to a considerably more comfortable 35-12, and the game was practically over.


You dare lay a hand on Chris Schmelz? No, your hand is not fast enough.

Of course, “practically over” is not the same as “actually over,” a point Tecumseh did its best to illustrate by never giving up and never surrendering. After some mildly uninspiring play from the Bulldogs — including a lost fumble on the first play of a drive — and an Indian touchdown that wasn’t preceded by the typical ten-minute drive, the momentum was swinging back in Tecumseh’s direction, and the scoreboard displayed a somewhat less comfortable 35-20 Chelsea lead with far too much time left in the fourth quarter. But a Nick Hill touchdown — his fourth of the evening — pushed the lead to 41-20 and effectively sealed the victory for Chelsea. (Tecumseh did score another late touchdown, but it was not relevant to the game’s outcome.)


Taylor Hopkins (7) believes he can fly. He believes he can touch the sky.


Donny Riedel deigns to allow himself to be tackled, but only after a 10 yard gain.

Leftovers:

  • Chelsea’s leading rusher has the last name of Hill; Tecumseh’s leading rusher has the last name of Hill; unsurprisingly, running backs named Hill scored six out of the ten touchdowns on Friday. Tecumseh’s Hill outgained Chelsea’s Hill 159 to 80, but the former also carried the ball 28 times for a per-carry average of 5.6, while the latter carried only six times for a per-carry average of 13.3. Also, Chelsea’s Hill scored four touchdowns (three rushing, one receiving), while Tecumseh’s Hill scored two. Since Tecumseh operates a thoroughly run-oriented offense, his high carry total is to be expected; still, 5.6ypc is a healthy average. For Chelsea, Hill’s workload and output were below normal, but his rate of scoring was more than healthy.
  • Underscoring the runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun Tecumseh offense are the passing statistics: Tecumseh’s quarterback attempted only seven passes and completed four, while Adams attempted 20 and completed 11. However, Tecumseh’s completions were effective; the four completions went for 97 yards and a touchdown. Adams’ 11 completions went for 185 yards and two touchdowns.
  • Perhaps most interesting are the total offensive output statistics: Tecumseh actually outgained Chelsea by 15 yards (391 to 376) and two first downs (15 to 13).
  • An intermittent rain persisted through much of the first half of the game; it was less consistent than the rain during the Ypsi game, but it was enough to moisten everyone’s towelette. The rain stopped by halftime, but just a few minutes into the third quarter, the officials halted the game due to lightning. The voltage never struck too close to the field, but it was close enough that the delay lasted almost two hours. Fortunately, they were able to restart the game not too long after 10:00.
  • Early in the third quarter, Chelsea’s Stu Mann went down with an injury. Injuries in and of themselves are not unusual, but from afar, this particular injury looked frighteningly serious; Mann did not appear to be moving at all for perhaps five minutes. Fortunately, it was not serious; Mann walked off the field under his own power and even came back to play the rest of the game after the lightning delay. But it is always terrifying to see a player who does not appear to be moving.
  • The turf dedication ceremony occurred at halftime on Friday. It wasn’t complicated; all the donors gathered on the field, the man who spearheaded the fundraising effort gave a brief speech, and the players thanked the donors for their support of Chelsea football. I was hoping the donors would run a brief scrimmage, too, just to test the turf, but it was not in the plans. Maybe next time.
  • Friday was also Future Bulldog night; all the seventh- and eighth-grade players were on the field for the pregame, and they received a bit of the spotlight at halftime.
  • Thursday’s freshmen and JV games featured an officiating crew that had a propensity to blow whistles in the middle of plays for no real reason; I noticed two such instances, and I was later informed that there were a few more I missed. It certainly was a unique officiating philosophy. Does anyone out there know of a circumstance in which an official could actually stop a play? (I’m not talking about false start or other pre-snap dead ball penalties; these plays were stopped when the ball carrier was a few yards down the field and was not yet on the ground.)

Next week:
Chelsea faces the Maples of Adrian; the game is in Adrian on Friday at 7:00 PM.

Commitment to Excellence: Week 2 vs. Bedford

JV: d. by Bedford 27-47; 1-1 (0-1 SEC)
Freshmen: d. by Bedford 13-29; 1-1 (0-1 SEC)

2007 Chelsea Varsity Football record: 2-0 (1-0 SEC)


Is Nick Avila really that big? Science has yet to answer that question.


For the players, the sign says “AESLEHC SGODLLUB.” Apparently that’s exciting.


Big Brothers are watching you. But only if you’re playing.


The new turf under the lights.

When the SEC reorganized after the departure of Pinckney and Milan, several new teams joined the conference; one of those teams was Bedford. I have always been wary of that school, but my wariness has nothing to do with their Kicking Mule mascot or their mildly nauseating Notre Dame fight song; no, I am wary of Bedford because of their all-too-distinct Ohio flavor. See, Bedford is located just a few miles north of the Ohio border, and when I travel there for football games, I begin to wonder if I didn’t accidentally drive too far south; between the red and gray uniforms on the field and the distressingly common Ohio State apparel in the stands — not to mention the occasional Ohio license plate in the parking lot — a trip to Bedford feels very much like a trip to Ohio, which is not a trip Michigan fans make for fun.

Bedford is a wrestling-crazed school, so over the last decade, their football teams have ranged from mildly competitive to not so competitive; since Chelsea’s teams have ranged from good to very good over the same time period, Bedford hasn’t managed to collect a victory over Chelsea at the varsity level. There have been a few years Bedford has put up a fight, but there have been other years that have been downright ugly. One of those ugly years occurred a few years ago, when Bedford provided one of my all-time favorite football sequences: thanks to a comedy of sacks and major penalties, the Kicking Mules managed to convert a first and goal into a fourth and goal from the 45 yard line. No kidding. It is the only time I can remember seeing a team forced to punt on fourth and goal.

This year, there was no fourth and goal from the 45, but that was primarily because the Bedford offense had trouble gaining even a single first down. In the first game on the new turf, the Chelsea defense smothered Bedford, holding the Kicking Mules to 13 yards and no first downs in the first half; by the end of the game, they managed to accumulate only seven first downs. In their first game, the Bedford offense had piled up yardage on the way to a victory, but the Chelsea defense wasn’t particularly interested in boosting Bedford’s 2007 offensive resume.

To show its gratitude for the defense’s hard work, the Chelsea offense scored four touchdowns on five first-half possessions; three were Nick Hill rushing touchdowns, and the other was a Jeff Adams touchdown pass. By the time the offense was done being excessively efficient, the game was well in hand for Chelsea; by halftime, every last trace of suspense was pounded to bits and mixed with the rubber pellets in the turf.


Under the watchful eyes of most of his coaches, Jeff Adams eludes a tackler.


Chris Schmelz made this leaping catch, but it was called back on a penalty.


In Chelsea, we like to keep our pants on. Here, Michael Lenneman works to maintain that standard.


Nick Hill laughs at your misguided attempts to tackle him.

That complete lack of suspense meant that everyone else got to play; Chelsea’s second teams got extensive playing time in the second half. And by “extensive,” I mean “all of it.” Backup quarterback Randy Cox got to attempt 16 passes (and complete 10 of them); backup running back Riley Feeney got to run free, as free as the wind blows for 70 yards; the backup defense got do all that fun stuff defenses get to do, like hit people and tackle ball carriers. And eventually, after the teams traded second-half touchdowns, Chelsea ambled off the field with a 34-7 victory.


Riley Feeney looks confused by the absence of defenders.

Leftovers:

  • Three SEC schools now have turf fields: Pioneer, Saline and Chelsea. However, Chelsea is the only one of the three not to have permanent lines for other sports on the turf. Visually, it’s a relief; fields with lines for multiple sports are cluttered and considerably less appealing, and Chelsea is fortunate to be able to have only football markings on the field. However, if the field is needed for other sports, those sports are not out of luck: to add the necessary lines, there is a powder that can be applied to the turf and washed off after the event.
  • Akel Marshall, the longtime voice of Chelsea football and basketball, has given up the microphone. High school sports fans encounter a wide range of announcers, from the not bad to the very bad; Chelsea fans have been fortunate to have Marshall’s consistent, evenhanded announcing for so many years. Thanks, Akel. (Now behind the football microphone is football stat guru Jason Morris. Thus far, he is proving to be a very capable successor.)

Next week:
Chelsea faces the Indians of Tecumseh; the game is in Chelsea on Friday at 7:00 PM. Also, the new turf will be dedicated.

[Expletive deleted]

On Saturday morning, I drove toward Ann Arbor with a sense of anticipation; the sun was shining, the sky was a beautiful blue, college football was beginning yet again, and I was going to Michigan’s opening game. It was a good day, and I, like most other Michigan fans, assumed it would end well, too.

On my walk to the stadium, I noticed that the general atmosphere seemed to be a bit subdued; it struck me as odd because even when the opening game isn’t a marquee matchup (which is, of course, nearly every year), the atmosphere is usually festive simply because football is back. But this time, gameday didn’t have that feel; compared to other opening games, the atmosphere felt almost bored. But it didn’t seem too relevant, and really, I was too excited to dwell on that thought.

As I stood outside the stadium gates engaging in some always-entertaining people-watching, I discovered that even Appalachian State fans seemed to assume the day would end well for Michigan. As he threw away the remains of his meal, one ASU fan jokingly told a few nearby Michigan fans that his NCAA-champion Mountaineers wouldn’t “run up the score too badly.” Everybody laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile as I headed toward the stadium.

Kickoff came and went, Michigan scored an early touchdown, and our assumption of casual victory began to look like it was coming true. But then ASU scored on a big play that made Michigan’s defense look like it had started the party a few hours too early, and the scoreboard didn’t look like we all thought it should. Michigan scored another touchdown, and we thought perhaps this was a sign of things to come; yet again, we were wrong. ASU marched down the field and tied the score again, and everyone who wasn’t euphorically black and gold was perplexed. Michigan wasn’t in control, and ASU wasn’t just collecting a six-figure payout and enjoying the scenery; Michigan was playing like their uniforms and meaningless #5 ranking guaranteed a win, and ASU was playing like they actually wanted to win. And two touchdowns later, they weren’t just playing like they wanted to win; they were playing like they would win.

Somewhere around halftime, my brother-in-law sent me a text message asking for the score. “28-17 ASU,” I responded. And since I thought he might not believe me, I continued: “I am not kidding.” His response echoed my own thoughts: “What the?!”

In the second half, Michigan finally seemed to be coming out of its coma; the defense did its job a few times, and the offense reciprocated, and suddenly ASU held a relatively paltry 31-26 lead. And then Mike Hart, playing with an intensity and desire that was clearly and beautifully evident even to those of us in the very last row, set the crowd on fire with a thrilling 54-yard touchdown that gave Michigan the lead for the first time since the first quarter. All of a sudden, despite the previously abundant misery, and despite the shockingly subpar play from the Wolverines, victory seemed more than possible; in the light of Hart’s obvious determination to win the game with or without his teammates, it seemed almost likely.

When the Michigan defense forced a late interception, victory seemed even closer. The offense managed to gain a first down or two, and we began to breathe a collective sigh of relief; the nightmare, it seemed, had been averted. The upset would have to wait. But we should have known better; we should have remembered the misery of the first half. The game was not over. Oh, the game was not over.

After those falsely-encouraging first downs, the offense started taking penalties. They were just irritating little minor penalties, like delay of game and false start, but they brought the offense to a halt; that brought the kicking unit onto the field to stretch the one-point lead to four. And that would have been wonderful, except the kicking unit managed to have the kick blocked, thereby causing thousands of Michigan fans to experience severe pain as they remembered the gaping void between Hayden Epstein’s departure and Garrett Rivas’ arrival. (Except the multi-headed kicking monster typically eschewed the excitement of blocked kicks, instead opting for the relative banality of wide left, wide right and way short.)

Prior to the kick of insufficient altitude, the defense had shown encouraging signs of understanding basic defensive concepts like “coverage” and “tackling”; this made the blocked kick seem less disastrous. But just as the offense had relapsed into its first-half self, so did the defense slip back into its nasty habit of attempting to trade land for peace, and it didn’t take long for ASU to make its way into position for a very, very short field goal. Naturally, because they were not having flashbacks to the Brabbs/Nienburg era, the field goal was good. But strangely, they had opted not to run down the clock before the kick, so there was a faint glimmer of hope.

That hope grew from a faint glimmer to what seemed to be a blinding searchlight when, on third and long, Chad Henne found Mario Manningham deep in ASU territory with six seconds left. We in the crowd had already traveled from despair to hope to joy and back to despair, and the unlikely completion that put Michigan in prime position to kick a game-winning field goal took us immediately from despair to elation. All that frustration could be offset by the victory that would be sealed by one kick.

Victory was indeed sealed by one kick, but it wasn’t Michigan’s kick; just like the previous attempt, that was blocked. Instead, the game-winning field goal belonged to ASU.

As I made my way back to my car, I found myself in the midst of not an angry crowd, but a purely stunned crowd. The moment the game was announced, nearly everyone marked it as a win; Oregon and Notre Dame were considered potentially dangerous non-conference games, but ASU was seen as the walkoverest of walkovers. So when Michigan ended up wearing the footprints, no one seemed to know how to react.

Of course, I knew the sports-watching public was already being inundated by the inevitable hysteria of ESPN and its ilk. No matter what else happened, ASU’s defeat of Michigan had to be the ad nauseam lead story everywhere; sports media adores events they can call historical, and without a doubt, they would adore the stuffing out of Michigan’s loss. Every halftime show, every Sportscenter, every local news sportscast would be talking about it.

But remarkably, when I got home, I found that the hysteria of the sports media was being overshadowed by a larger hysteria. The loss, along with the constant Biggest Upset Ever In The History Of Sports coverage, had driven many Michigan bloggers and commenters — particularly the latter — completely overboard. The shock of the loss had worn off, and the fan base was practically apoplectic. There was rage directed at every possible target of blame, starting with Lloyd Carr and ending anywhere and everywhere. Some fans swore off Michigan football, saying they would sell the rest of their tickets for this year; others even discussed burning the clothes they wore to the game. The Michigan fan base had taken the excessive Biggest Upset Ever concept to an entirely new level, where the loss to ASU suddenly became a horrifying tragedy that not only mangled the 2007 season beyond repair, but threatened to destroy over 100 years of Michigan football tradition.

As I watched the meltdown and the hyperbolic media coverage, I found the target of my irritation changing. At first, I was focused on the loss; however, the more hysterical the meltdown became and the more ESPN and its sheep branded it the biggest upset ever, the more I became irritated at the unnecessarily distraught fans and the media. What had started out as an upset had become a tragedy thanks to the unmitigated overreaction following the game.

The more I heard about the catastrophe of Michigan’s defeat, the more I became convinced that the upset was being significantly exaggerated; though ASU’s victory was an upset, there is a team on Michigan’s 2007 schedule that could pull a more significant upset: Eastern Michigan.

I know, I know; EMU is 1-A. But what does that prove? While EMU is a lowly 1-A team, ASU is the best team in Division 1-AA. That is not an insignificant accomplishment; it is not like saying they are the best Arena Football League team or the best minor league baseball team; it is not like saying they are the best JV football team. This is a highly-talented, well-coached team that is not just capable of playing very good football, but is fully capable of beating a number of 1-A football teams, including EMU. Contrary to the knee-jerk divisional arrogance now on display, football with an extra A isn’t automatically one step below 1-A football; in fact, the top end of 1-AA football would slot solidly in the middle of 1-A.

From that perspective, ASU’s victory is the Biggest Upset Ever not because the quality of football at the 1-AA level is uniformly inferior, but merely because of that extra A. Sports media gets to hype some sort of alleged biggest ever while fans get to express depression or jubilation because Michigan lost to a 1-AA team, but all the historical declaration and exaggerated emotions are based on an extra A and a lazy approach that treats all of 1-AA as a big JV division. Michigan lost to a 1-AA team, but that team is the equivalent of at least a decent MAC team, and the reaction to this loss has been far more hysterical than any reaction to a loss at the hands of one of those decent MAC teams.

This is in no way an effort to downplay ASU’s victory as an upset; it was an upset, and for Michigan, it was a bad loss that never should have happened. But it is not astoundingly historical in a truly meaningful sense, it is not disastrous or catastrophic, and it is not the end of Michigan’s season. Let me say it again: the loss is not the end of Michigan’s season. There are eleven more games to win, there is a conference title to win, and there will be a bowl game to win.

So, with the ASU game in the past, I have a request to make of my temporarily irrational fellow Michigan fans: stop being a part of the hysteria problem. Drop the suicidal overreactions and the absurd calls for a mid-season coaching change; start getting ready for next Saturday, and the ten Saturdays after that. The mourning period is over, but the season isn’t.

Go Blue.