Three Points Short in Stillwater, and the P-Word Goes Back in the Car
Cleveland State42
Oklahoma State45
- Game
- 2027 Week 11
- Date
- 2027-11-21
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Loss
- Record
- 9-2
Oklahoma State 45, Vikings 42. On the road. Three points.
I watched this one at home, with Donna, under a blanket, with the windows up, because I’d already said the P-word in the car this week and I was trying to keep it contained. It didn’t work. It got out. It always gets out.
Three points. A field goal. The width of a hot dog, the same hot dog that rolled our way in New Orleans three years ago and rolled the other way in Stillwater tonight. Football’s a round thing on a flat field, folks, and sometimes it just doesn’t bounce your way.
Nine and two. Here’s the thing I keep telling myself, and I’ll tell you too: two losses, both on the road, both to teams having great nights. One game left, Utah at home, the weekend after Thanksgiving. Then a bowl. Nine and two is still the best this program’s looked in my lifetime.
Donna made tea. Viking the beagle sat on my feet. Bridget texted, “sorry about Okie State, Dad,” with a regular heart, not a green one. Small mercies.
Zero pierogi.
Three points in Stillwater. The second road loss of the year, and the defense gave up forty-five. You know what I’m going to say, so I’ll say it quickly: this team can score with anybody, and it can’t stop the teams that get hot. That’s been true all year. It was true again.
But here’s what’s different, and I want to be honest about it. In 2024 a loss like this would’ve sent me into a two-week sulk and a sad piano record. This year I came home, and Teresa had left a note on my door that said “Soup’s in the fridge. They’ll win the next one. – T.” She doesn’t even know who they’re playing next. She just knows me.
My father called me this week, which hasn’t happened in a year. My mother dialed, but he wanted to talk. He said, “Are we still good, Kenny?” I said, “We’re good, Dad. Nine and two.” He said, “Nine and two is good.” He’s right. He’s still right about the big stuff.
The Doom Model says the bowl picture is fine. I say the bowl picture is fine. We’re aligned. That’s never happened.
Back and forth
Three points, Kenny.
I know. Soup’s in the fridge.
Your dad called you!
He asked if we’re still good. We’re still good.
Three points short in Stillwater, a note on a door, and a father who picked up the phone on his own to ask the only question that matters.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.