The Boulder Curse Is Broken, and Ken Put On a Happy Record
Cleveland State35
Colorado28
- Game
- 2026 Week 4
- Date
- 2026-09-26
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 3-1
WE WON IN BOULDER.
Vikings 35, Colorado 28. In the mountains. In the building that broke our hearts two years running. Seven points, folks, the exact size of a touchdown, and I’d like to think each point is a little apology from the universe for last year.
I watched it at Sal’s. Yes, Sal’s. He keeps the shop open late on game Saturdays for the regulars, a little TV on the counter, everybody in a chair. Sal has no stake in Colorado, but he’s spent two years telling me Boulder was “your Bermuda Triangle.” When the clock hit zero, Sal looked at me in the mirror, put down his comb, and said, “Fine. Fine. Bermuda Triangle’s closed.” I’ve never loved a man more who refuses to cut my sideburns evenly.
We’re 3-1. The curse is broken. The kid quarterback has now beaten Tulsa’s ghost, Iowa State and the mountains in three straight weeks. Well, two straight. You know what I mean.
Five pierogi. I’m hanging a little Colorado license plate in my office upside down, as a trophy.
I’ll admit something. Last year, after Boulder, I said I’d miss the dream. This year, the Vikings went to Boulder and won, and I don’t know what to call that. A dream I didn’t have the nerve to have?
Seven points. On the road. Against the one team that’s had our number twice. The defense still gave up twenty-eight, which I’m contractually obligated to point out, but it gave up twenty-eight in a building where it used to give up hope.
When I got home I didn’t put on the sad church-piano record. I took it off the shelf, looked at it, and put it back. I played something with a walking bass line instead. My neighbor slid a note under the door: “Colorado?” I wrote back: “Colorado.” He wrote: “Good or bad?” I wrote: “Good.” He slid back a single thumbs-up drawn in pencil. Cleveland is learning to write longer letters.
The Doom Model remains rattled by Tulsa and is now hedging everything. It called this game “volatile but whatever.”
Back and forth
The curse is broken, Kenny!
Curses aren’t real. But if they were, it would be broken.
You played a happy record!
I played a walking bass line. That’s not happy. That’s ambulatory.
Boulder conquered at last, Sal’s Bermuda Triangle closed, and Ken’s neighbor upgraded to full sentences.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.