Thanksgiving, Two New Chairs and a Five-Point Win Over Utah
Cleveland State34
Utah29
- Game
- 2027 Week 12
- Date
- 2027-11-28
- Site
- Home
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 10-2
Vikings 34, Utah 29, at home, the weekend after Thanksgiving. Ten and two!
We needed two more chairs this year. Sam, my new son-in-law, made them. Out of oak. By hand. One for himself and one, he said, “for whoever Ken brings.” Kenny brought Teresa. She’s a night-shift ER nurse and had worked until 7 a.m., and she still showed up with a pie. Pumpkin. Homemade. Donna looked at that pie, then looked at me, and I knew we had to keep her.
At the table, Bridget gave Teresa a three-minute crash course on why Ohio is the best program in the conference. Teresa listened politely and then said, “Kenny says you’re very good at your job.” Bridget was so flattered she forgot to finish the speech. I’ve never seen anybody defuse a Bridges family argument that fast. Kenny’s going to marry this woman, folks. I’ve told him. He choked on a roll.
Then our guys won a five-point game against a good Utah team on a cold, gray afternoon with snow in the forecast. Ten and two. The regular season’s over, and it ties last year’s for the best of the Dolan era.
Four pierogi. One for Teresa’s pie, which deserves its own column.
A five-point home win over Utah to finish ten and two. The Vikings played a disciplined, physical team on a cold day and found a way. That’s a quality win in late November.
Thanksgiving. I’ll confirm the following facts and nothing more: Sam’s chairs are excellent. Teresa’s pie was the best thing on the table, including Donna’s pierogi, which I’ll deny saying if asked. Bridget gave a speech about Ohio’s linebackers that I’d describe as “thorough.” And Mickey said something about marriage that I’m not going to repeat in a newspaper.
I did choke on a roll. Teresa patted my back, professionally, and said, “You’re fine, Kenny.” Then, quieter, “You’re fine.” I’ve decided she meant more than the roll.
Ohio is headed to the Big 12 title game. The Vikings beat them by twenty-eight and still finished fourth. That’s conference math, and it’s cruel. But ten and two, a bowl coming and an offense nobody could slow down is not a sad story. For once, I’m not writing a sad story.
Back and forth
Ten and two! And Teresa brought a pie!
The pie was outstanding. Please don’t make it a whole thing.
I’ve already made it a whole thing.
I know. Donna asked for the recipe. It’s over. I’m in.
Ten and two, two handmade oak chairs, one perfect pumpkin pie, and a doubter who has, by his own admission, been absorbed into the family.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.