Halloween in Orlando, the Scary Kind
Cleveland State27
UCF59
- Game
- 2027 Week 8
- Date
- 2027-10-31
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Loss
- Record
- 7-1
UCF 59, Vikings 27. On Halloween. In Orlando.
Thirty-two points. The undefeated season, gone, in the most frightening way possible, on the most frightening night of the year. I’d make a joke about ghosts, but honestly, folks, I’ve seen ghosts with better tackling.
The Reyes kids handed out my candy again this year. Donna says Sofia went as a Viking this time, a girl Viking, horns and a braided yarn wig, and every time a kid came to the door she said, “The Vikings are winning.” Then, around nine o’clock, Jess checked the score on her phone and gently suggested Sofia change her line. Sofia, I’m told, thought about it and started saying, “The Vikings are trying.” Out of the mouths of babes.
Here’s what I believe: seven and one is still magnificent. The best start in my career. One bad night in Florida doesn’t take that away. And you know what? This team’s best response has always come the week after its worst day. And next week, my people, is Ohio. In Athens.
Zero pierogi. I ate leftover Halloween candy at midnight, the little wax bottles nobody likes, as penance.
Fifty-nine points allowed. That’s not a loss, that’s a confession.
I’ve spent seven weeks writing that the defense was a question, and on Saturday the question got answered in front of a national audience. The Vikings have an offense that can score with anyone and a defense that can’t keep up with a hot one. That’s not a fatal problem; it’s a known one. But it’s real.
I spent the night at Teresa’s place. She had the night off, which almost never happens. She didn’t turn the game on. She made soup, put on a record, a slow bossa nova thing I’d never heard, and asked me about my father instead. I told her about the Sunday calls, the good days and the foggy ones. She listened like it was her job, and then she said, “That’s the part that’s hard. Not the football.” She’s right. She’s usually right about what’s hard.
I checked the score at 11:30. I’d missed the whole thing. It was, statistically, the best decision I’ve made in years.
Back and forth
Fifty-nine, Kenny.
I didn’t watch. I was eating soup.
You missed a game?
I missed a bad one. I recommend it.
A Halloween horror show in Orlando, a little Viking who adjusted her talking points, and a doubter who chose soup over suffering and doesn’t regret it.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.