Sixty-Three Points and the Whole Turnpike Can Hear Us
Cleveland State63
Akron30
- Game
- 2027 Week 4
- Date
- 2027-09-26
- Site
- Home
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 4-0
SIXTY-THREE POINTS. Vikings 63, Akron 30. Four and oh!
Akron came up the road with a lot of pride and a good team, and our offense hung sixty-three on them in our own building. Thirty-three points of daylight, folks. The scoreboard operator called the press box in the third quarter to ask if they could “slow down a little” because he was “getting a cramp.” That’s not true. But it should be.
West Side Market Saturday morning: Teddy at the kielbasa stall said the morning rush was the busiest he’d seen in years. “Big number today, Mick.” I said, “How big?” He looked at me like a man who’s seen the future and said, “Sixty-something.” Teddy, you magnificent sausage prophet.
And the good Kenny, our freshman receiver, is already the most fun player to watch in the Big 12. When he catches the ball, the student section yells “KEN-NY” and then, every single time, a few hundred people turn around and look at the press box to see if our Kenny is reacting. He doesn’t. He’s very still. But I’ve seen his foot tapping.
Five pierogi. One for Teddy, as always.
Sixty-three points. I’ve been instructed by Marlene to stop saying “it’s only Akron,” so I’ll just say the arithmetic and let you draw your own conclusions: sixty-three is a lot of points. More than most teams score in two games.
Four and oh, and the defense gave up thirty again, which means the defense has allowed twenty-four, thirty, twenty and thirty in four games. The offense, meanwhile, appears to be playing a different sport. I keep waiting for the moment the scoreboard can’t cover the gap. It keeps not coming.
About the chanting: yes, the student section yells “KEN-NY.” Yes, people turn around. No, I don’t react. I’m a professional. My foot was tapping because I had a lot of coffee.
Teresa came to the game. Her first. She brought a book “in case it got boring,” which reminded Mickey of a librarian named Agnes in 2024, and like Agnes, she never opened it. She did ask, in the third quarter, “Is it always this many points?” I said, “No. Usually it’s worse for my blood pressure.” She checked my pulse. She’s a nurse. It was fine. Mostly.
Back and forth
Teresa came to a game!
She came to a game. Singular. Don’t make it a trend.
She didn’t open her book, Kenny.
I know. I noticed. I’ve been thinking about it all week.
Sixty-three points, a sausage prophet vindicated, a stadium chanting Ken’s name by accident, and a book that stayed closed.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.