A Pierogi, a Viking and a Kansas Blowout Walk Into Halloween
Cleveland State34
Kansas13
- Game
- 2024 Week 8
- Date
- 2024-11-02
- Site
- Home
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 5-3
Halloween in Old Brooklyn this year: Leo Reyes went trick-or-treating as a Viking, horns and all, and his little sister Sofia went as a pierogi. Jess made the costume out of a beige pillowcase and some felt. Sofia is four and did not fully understand the assignment, but she knocked on every door on the street and said, “I’m a dumpling.” Donna gave her a full-size candy bar. We don’t even have full-size candy bars. Donna went out and bought one.
Then Kansas came to our house, and our house was not in a sharing mood. Vikings 34, Jayhawks 13.
Twenty-one points! Three touchdowns of daylight! After three straight weeks of nail-biters and one salad I’ll never get back, I watched a fourth quarter sitting down.
We’re 5-3. This team has won by three, by three, by eight, by six and by twenty-one. Five different ways to win, and the losses keep getting closer. That’s a program finding its shape.
Four pierogi. The fifth was dressed as Sofia.
The Vikings beat Kansas by three touchdowns, and I’m going to agree with the scoreboard, which is to say I’m going to agree with Mickey, which is to say I need a minute.
Thirty-four points scored, thirteen allowed. Both halves of the team showed up in the same building on the same day. The defense has now held five straight opponents under twenty-five. That’s not a vibe. That’s a trend line, and I’m legally obligated to respect a trend line.
At trivia, Nadia set down my drink and said, “Enjoy it, sweetheart. Oxford’s waiting at the end of the month.” Then she tapped the RedHawks bobblehead so it nodded at me. It’s a very menacing bobblehead.
And before Mickey frames this: the next game is Ohio. I’ve watched Tim Slocombe’s Bobcats the way you watch storm radar.
“Lil,” for the reader who sent a postcard: a hockey thing. I can’t legally discuss it.
Back and forth
Five and three, and you agreed with me. In print!
I agreed with the scoreboard. You were standing near it.
Ohio’s next. We’re ready.
Nobody’s ready for Ohio. Ohio isn’t ready for Ohio.
A complete, comfortable win, a four-year-old dumpling with a full-size candy bar, and Ken watching the Ohio forecast through his fingers.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.