And Now, Your Inevitable Yakety Sax Video

Take your medicine, Wolverines. Take your medicine:

It's crunchy and delicious.

Blogjammin': Gallows Humor Abounds With mgoblog

In the unlikely experiment that has been my last few years of blogging, I've got to do some pretty cool things, like hug a man in a singlet, break Orson Swindle's clavicle in a game of touch football, and survive the rain-drenched miracle that was the 2006 Michigan State game. But one of my favorite days of the year is when I go toe to toe with the other Brian at mgoblog and duke it out over the upcoming Michigan game.

Verily, we've come a long way since our first blogjam in 2006, when our beloved football teams both had championship aspirations. Each year since our inaugural chat, our teams have circled further and further down the toilet of college football, and it's quite possible we're responsible for it. Nevertheless, we must storm on, even though this upcoming tilt is reaching the paramount of absurd irrelevance. By God, the world needs laughter, or at least that kind of hysterical laughter that squeezes its way out of you between body-wracking sobs and unnecessarily large bites of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream.

In 2006, we donned Mexican wrestling uniforms. In 2007, we opted for tapioca wrestling. This year, to commemorate this upcoming game, we put on powdered wigs and breeches and just slapped the ever-loving Christ out of each other. I'm in bold, Brian's in blue. Part two is available over at mgoblog. Spoiler alert, we talk about jamming footballs in people's butts. I've said too much.

fightinamish:Shall we tussle?

mgoblog: Okay, as per usual Proper Grammar and Punctuation will help.

The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

Sounds good to me.

Allright, (cracks knuckles)....

First things first. During the Utah game, they showed a sign in the Michigan weight room that said, "In a time of crisis you will not rise to the occasion, you will default to your level of preparation". Question: did Rich Rodriguez find that in a fortune cookie? Follow up: isn't it funnier if you add "in bed" to the end?

The answer to the second half of the question provides the answer to the second: "in bed" doesn't really go at the end of this sentence humorously, so it couldn't have come from a fortune cookie. My vote goes to "real estate seminar pamphlet."

Respect the cock!

Possibly... although I think it was originally written in Japanese and hastily translated.

But that's not even the best sign in the weight room. There's one that has a subject-verb agreement error that I'm sure someone pointed out to Barwis once.

Parts of that unfortunate soul's brain are still landing in former Soviet republics.

Times must be hard at the Athletic Department... with all the money they're spending on the stadium and practice facilities, it seems like they're outsourcing everything else.

Did you know you can hire Indian or Eastern European coders for like 10 bucks an hour? I'm looking into this. I plan on introducing MGoStatisticsWhatACountry! next year.

Document the offensive and defensive formations faster! Do you want to see your family again?

Gotta love child labor

It'll be an online version of "Coming to America" except with True Punting Rate and stuff.

I don't even know what that is. I just made it up. BUT UKRANIANS WILL MAKE IT FOR ME.

But I digress.

Indeed you do. So, to gradually guide this to vaguely relevant discussion, what's the quarterback situation going to be this week? It's been a mix and match job so far... will Rodriguez outsource that, too? Are we looking at Sareep Neheedamajet's first start at QB? Or perhaps, dare I say, an adorable golden retriever?

Given the way things have been going they should see if Carlos Brown can throw a bubble screen, but it will be Threet. Threet actually made a ton of good decisions against Miami (Not That Miami) and would have moved the team down the field consistently if he hadn't overthrown every downfield route by 10 yards. Dude needs to relax. Nick Sherdian will probably see time after Threet overthrows Tacopants on third and seven.

As a side note, I'm rooting for the big guy to win the job, as I thought of a really cool nickname for him... "Picabo Threet"

I like "Dual Threet," but that threatens to be *really* sarcastic against teams outside of the MAC.

Yeah... one of the commentators during the Miami game actually used the phrase "Pat White" on that first touchdown. Flabbergasting.

For whatever reason Miami (Not That Miami) was leaving those zone read keepers wide open. You or I could have scored on that play. Steven Threet could have scored on it.

So what, do you suppose, will be the offensive gameplan for Michigan. I can't imagine the Threet keeper is going to be a permanent staple... are you going to try to establish the short passing from the spread that SDSU showed some relative success at doing against the Irish last week?

I really doubt it, actually. Michigan has two types of passes in the arsenal so far: screens and downfield bombs. Throwing across the middle when your quarterback tends to overthrow guys by five yards is asking for a safety to go "look what I found" and intercept your wildly inaccurate pass. I assume the gameplan will be similar to what it was in the first couple games just because that's about all Michigan can do right now. That does include the keeper if Notre Dame chooses to disrespect it like Miami(NTM) did. Michigan is big on respect, capo.

Respect the... aw, dammit. I already used this joke.

I wasn't aware there was an offensive strategy in the last two games... although I didn't see all of the Miami game. My Tivo switched over to that "Hole in the Wall" gameshow about halfway through and I didn't even notice it for 25 minutes.

Actually, in the UFR's I've discovered I really, really like the offensive strategy. There's a half-dozen core plays that all play off each other and create a simple framework in which it's really easy to gash the defense for big chunks of yards. Michigan just sucks at executing it. Really, really sucks.

Really.

I only realized it wasn't the Michigan game when I noticed the pants weren't shiny enough.

Really. So, do you think it can take advantage of a Tenuta "Blitz By God Blitz Everybody" defense?

There are opportunities to do so. When that OLB nominally tasked with covering the little bastard in the slot blitzes and Michigan goes to the bubble screen they're one good block and one missed tackle away from a big chunk of yards. Same with the little flare route that shoots a really fast guy out to the backside of a play that looks like the standard zone read. The opportunites are horizontal, not vertical, and I think the spread sort of limits how exotic your blitzes can get unless you've got the opponent in an unfavorable down and distance. Michigan DC Scott Shafer is a tweed jacket version of Tenuta and he hasn't done much unleashing of the dogs except in obvious passing situations.

Copy that. Allright, serious question. What's the biggest thing you've ever seen Sam McGuffie jump over?

Charlie Weis's....

...ego!

ba DUM ching!

Hi-yo!

No, seriously: Canada.

I saw him jump over Knowshon Moreno while he was jumping over that CMU safety.

I loled.

Allright, you're officially off the Budweiser Hot Seat. Pepper me with your dastardliest questions.

---

Like I said, part two is available at mgoblog. It's a doozy.

Sliding Doors

Just outside of Battle Creek, MI, my friend in the passenger seat turned to me and asked if I wanted a cookie. I mulled the decision for a few seconds, quickly calculating the positives and negatives of the decision. I froze for a second, as I found myself exactly 50/50 on whether or not to accept said cookie. I did a mental coinflip and elected to decline the cookie.

Five hours later, I yelled "fuck" at Michigan Stadium.

---

It's strange how one decision, which seemed so inconsequential at the time, can set into motion a chain of events that could in no way be anticipated. It's only in the harsh hindsight that I realized that my embarassing outburst was not in any way under my control, but rather the final domino in a long, bizarre Rube Goldberg-esque mousetrap machine that I was a small, completely unwitting participant in. Let me unfurl this contraption for your amusement:



First of all, it's important to realize this wasn't just any cookie I was offered. It was a fancy individually-wrapped cookie sent to my friend by a law firm he interviewed with in a care package to bribe him into taking the job. The winner of the 2007 World Cookie Championship award (according to the sticker on the label), this cookie was a 500-calorie chocolate-chippety bastard oozing with caramel, oatmeal, and chunks of delicious lard, which I found out as I wolfed it down the next morning to chase away my blazing hangover from my post-game efforts to drink away the afternoon. Now, I don't know about you, but a 500 calorie cookie is a hearty meal for a person like myself, and would have most assuredly slaked my hunger well into the evening, had I elected to consume it. Instead, I went into Ann Arbor with an empty stomach.

A few hours after the offer on the road in Battle Creek, I landed in Ann Arbor, prepared for a very sarcastic and certainlly unfulfilling afternoon of football. I availed myself of some Sangria at a tailgate, tracked down my tickets, and then worked my way over to the remote stage for WAAM to do an interview with Brian Cook and Jim Walsh about Here Come the Irish and Hail to the Victors. After a lighthearted chat with the local radio, I found myself in possession of a VIP pass for WAAM's tailgate. With kickoff quickly approaching and one more ticket to pick up, I found myself in a bit of a time crunch. I again was confronted with a choice: hit up the hospitality tent and grab a bratwurst or head over to the portable toilet and expel some urine. Seeing that there was a line about six or eight people long at the toilet, I decided I only had time to do one, and, due to my refusal of the cookie, hunger was rapidly becoming a top priority. Having no other choice, I loaded up a brat with sauerkraut and spicy mustard and decided to wait until I was inside the stadium to address my other need. I finished half the weiner before I got to the gate and pitched the rest in the trash.

Flash forward to the early third quarter. The going was rough (but I don't need to tell you that), but I was handling it like a trooper. Any sense of animosity in the section had dissipated once it became clear that this game wasn't going to be competitive, and I spent the game cracking jokes with the Michigan fans around me. My biggest cheer came late in the second quarter, where a somewhat promising drive had the Irish's total yardage rapicly closing in on 0. When our yardage hit negative-9 yards, I stood up and cheered wildly, shouting "Single digit negative, baby! Oh, yeah!" The fans around me laughed along and gave me high-fives. They also patted me on the back and reassured me when we gave up a sack on the next play and promptly droped back to double-digit negative yardage. The point is, I was handling the de-pantsing with class, grace, and a very robust sense of humor. However, at that point, my bladder had reached critical mass, and I realized I had to address the urge immediately. Not being too let down by missing some gametime, I headed down to the toilets to take care of business and save myself a few minutes of watching the atrocity on the field.

As I reached the concourse, I was stunned whan I saw the restroom. There wasn't a line for the men's room, per se, but an amorphous blob of antsy dudes tap-dancing with bladder fatigue about 25 deep and 10 broad. I walked to the other end of the stadium and saw an even larger line at the other restroom, so I dubiously returned to the line of something like 250 people and waited patiently to do my duty. I somehow survived the ordeal without making a mess of myself and strolled out of the men's room about 20 minutes after I had left my seat. No worries, since I hadn't missed anything eventful on the field, but still an aggravating hassle. Nevertheless, my spirits were still high and I was resolved to make it to the end without losing my cool. I went back to my section and saw a line of about 20 people waiting to get into the aisle to work their way toward the seats. At this point, the last thing I wanted to do was wait in another line, particularly for something that... you know, it doesn't make any sense for there to be a line for. It was at that moment that I spotted some fans walking by with a Domino's pizza box. Having only a half a bratwurst (and no cookie) in my system and very low morale, I realized that some pizza would do wonders in lifting my spirits, and worked my way down the hill (I had to jump a fence to bypass the crowd, but it was a short, managable hop) and grab some 'za.

"Two slices of pepperoni," I said, carefully extracting $4 from my wallet.

"Sorry, sir," replied the person at the counter. "We just sold our last slice."

You know the vertigo effect? You know, in Hitchcock movies where the camera pans in and zooms out on a person's face really rapidly, usually accompanied by shrieking horror music?



Yeah, so that happened. The world went black, my pupils dilated, my fists clenched, and I suddenly became bathed in a frigid sweat. I blacked out, but when I came to a few seconds later, I could hear words reverberating in my ears in my voice:

"Man, FUCK this place!"


Ohhhhh.... ffffffffuuuuuuuudddge!

---

I feel bad that I did it, and I feel bad because there were probably some impressionable young kids in earshot of my outburst. And while I'll take full responsibility for what I did, I think it's important for everyone to know that I had no control over it. The entire, unavoidable, fatalistic machine had been set into motion six hours ago and 100 miles away when I decided not to take the cookie.

Let this be a warning to all of you. In the future, whenever you're offered a cookie, think of the children and take it. We're all in this together, I'm pulling for you.

Blogjammin': A Grimly Satisfying Evening With mgoblog

It's Michigan week, so you know what that means. It's time for me to don my traditional Mexican Wrestling mask and unitard and grapple with Brian Cook, the twisted puppet master at mgoblog. We try to be civil in our sparring matches, but once the ring gets filled with tapioca and the wrasslin' commences, it's kill or be killed out there.

Here's part one of our scintilating conversation, where we grapple with important topics like bratwurst made out of sex, world-destroying battles of übermensch punter-gods, the new Big 10 Morse Code Network, sushi on naked women, the sheer massivness of Ryan Mallett, and, occasionally, college football. Part two is over at mgo, here, so you can continue to soak up the madness over there. I'm gonna have a beer and a Vicodin, cause Cook eye-gouges and fishhooks like a crazy motherfucker. I'm in bold, he's in blue.

---

Fightinamish: You ready to tussle?

Brian Cook: Allright, I'm ready. I was finishing up my awesomely fun UFR for Oregon.

Lucky you!

It was awesome. I felt like I was having an ice cream cone made out of sex and brautwurst.

In South Bend they call that a "Charlie Weis". It costs $1.19 at most convenience stores. Cheese is extra.

Irish Cheddar, probably.

It's good stuff.

So should we start this thing?

Let's do it to it. So, right.  Watching the first half of the Oregon game, I kept thinking to myself that the entire Michigan team needs to, I don't know, see a therapist or something.  They look like a complete wreck psychologically.  Do you see the unraveling against Oregon as a direct effect of the loss the week before?

Well... insofar as the loss the week before indicated that our defense sucked, yes. Michigan has always had tons of trouble with spread option attacks until last year, Ohio State nonwithstanding, and that returned with a vengance for three simple reasons: our defensive line is bad, our linebackers are bad, and our secondary is bad. The rest of the implosion was bad luck (seriously: you put in a guy for one carry and he fumbles?) and Henne playing poorly. Oh, and our offensive coordinator being bad at life.

There's something to be said about healthy coping mechanisms.

So, more to the point, does Michigan actually suck or are they actually that top five team under some bizarre voodoo curse that will disappear once they drink the blood of a virgin... like a Catholic priest?

The defense actually sucks. The really sad thing about the Appalachian State game is that there was precious little trickery in their gameplan. They ran the same shotgun zone read handoff 21 times and gashed Michigan with it time and again. Against Oregon they were befuddled. The offense has a chance to be decent, though. They racked up a bunch of yards on both teams and only didn't score on Oregon because of a bunch of somewhat fluky turnovers and some cowardly offensive coordinating. The latter probably won't change but the former should. The offensive line has been pretty good so far, albeit against sketchy competition, and the run game has been good.

This matchup of Irish offense versus Michigan defense should be pretty hilarious.  What happens when the infinitely-resistable force meets the infinitely-movable object?

In this particular instance I think maybe the movable object? That offensive line seems to be the weakest unit amongst many, many weak units in this particular matchup, and one of the few moderately good performers the first couple weeks have  been Shawn Crable and Tim Jamison. Against a more conventional attack -- assuming Demetrius Jones doesn't make an appearance -- they should be more effective. Maybe. I hesitate to say anything positive about this Michigan team.

All hail Zoltan, our benevolent Space Emperor.

Except about Zoltan. Who is frickin' awesome.

He punted six Oregon guys to death last week.

And yet he is benevolent

If you bring him goulash, yes.

I'll be sure to prepare an offering.  He likes it served in the skull of his enemy, right?

Or upon the body of his newly acquired concubines. Like that sushi in Rising Sun.

Mmmm... fishy.  I say in the interest of saving both teams the humiliation of actually playing a game, we just have Geoff Price and Zoltan wrestle at midfield.  At the very least, it'll be letting the best players decide the game.

I would be up for that. At the very least we could get out of there in time to watch teams with, like, victories to their credit.

I take that back. Such an epic duel would probably take 77 years and 77 days.

And would probably destroy several surrounding villages. Millions would be homeless.


A village ten miles from the epicenter of the last Zoltan-Price fight that was completely leveled by the tremendous sonic boom.

And they would eat bears every once in a while

They've fought once before. Astronomers now refer to it as "The Big Bang".

We should totally set this up.

Severe danger of a punt knocking out a DirecTV satellite, though. And then what will the Big Ten Network do?

Late field goal block by App State, stop. Upset of century, stop. Pandemonium on the streets of Ann Arbor, stop.

Big Ten Morse Code.  Call your telegraph provider today and demand it for free!

Given the way the Appalachian State game turned out, that would do huge business in Michigan.

So... anyway. Jimmy Clausen: best swing-passing quarterback ever? How did you evaluate his starting debut? I was obviously a little underwhelmed.

It's obviously hard to make any judgment when your quarterback is either getting his head bashed in, handing the ball off for a negative gain, or throwing a swing pass.  With the combination of a clown car of offensive linemen in front of him and a pee-wee football playbook, it's a little early to make any judgment, positive or negative, about the wonderkid.  Of course, that hasn't stopped Irish fans and bloggers from raving about his "poise" and "composure".  I think a lot of that is reading a bit too much into the tea leaves.

That being said, I liked what I saw when he let the ball loose downfield.  The long pass to Parris where he scrambled out of certain death and threw a strike across his body on the run was a glimpse at what it is that made everyone drool over this kid in high school.  He also gets bonus points for walking out of Beaver Stadium without urine stains on his pants.  If that's not "poise", you tell me what is.

I don't want to make it seem like I'm writing the kid off, but I did think the whole poise thing was overrated. Several times he sat in the pocket until snowed under, taking an unnecessary -- but poised -- sack. Mallett, meanwhile, spent the second half of the Oregon game trying to friggin' kill his receivers by throwing it through their necks. Oh, and throwing balls 60 yards downfield. He was a little caffienated.

Only 60 yards?  That's a dump-off.  You're lucky he didn't throw it into Lake Huron

He looked a little pissed that the coaches were reining him in by not calling any of the routes that ended in Jackson.

Also tall. Pissed and tall.

He is big.  His legs are so long that he has two sets of knees.

He's Robot Paul Bunyan.

That's not a helmet he's wearing... it's an aquarium with wings painted on it.

I... what?

Ryan Mallett's customized helmet. Get it.. cause, like, he's got a big head and... nevermind.

Uh, he's big.  So big that it paralyzes the goofy metaphor region of my brain

Yeah, well, Clausen's so pointy he's, like, bad at football.

Take that.

Fatality.

Anyway, aside from being big and having the ability to throw the ball into another time zone, do you see him turning into a real quarterback while he's spelling Henne or is he still a ways off from being anything but a sideshow freak?

Can I retract something? I called Clausen "the kid". This is obviously incorrect. He's older than Greg Oden.

Clausen, Oden, and Muddy Waters all shared an apartment in Biloxi back in 1931.

I read that somewhere.


Actually, it wasn't an apartment... it was a tent in a shantytown. It was the Great Depression, of course.

Re: Mallett. I don't know. I was initially unimpressed by his debut, but when I went  back and reviewed the tape it looked like he threw a lot of balls that were accurate but, as mentioned, were thrown a million miles an hour into his receivers necks and were therefore dropped. The interception was going to be between Manningham's numbers on a post but Manningham fell down and deflected it upwards. Several of his incompletions were ridiculous longballs into coverage that Michigan was just throwing because it was third and very long and those were safe throws. Michigan obviously coddled him, running a lot, but also let him throw a surprising amount of stuff in between the hashmarks. I think there's a potential for effectiveness on Saturday.

There is also a fairly high probability of a couple interceptions.

But by god they will be really *moving* when they're picked off.

Go ahead and intercept my "broken metatarsal special"... if you dare.

Wait, Google reveals I mean to say "metacarpal"... not that any of our readers would ever find that out.

No problem. Mallett throws it so hard that when it hits your hands it breaks your foot.

---

Whoo, doggy. That's some good stuff. You can read the thrilling conclusion here, if you dare.