BIG 12 CHAMPIONS. Over Ohio. By Thirty-One.
Cleveland State48
Ohio17
- Game
- 2028 Big 12 Championship
- Site
- Neutral site
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 12-1
BIG 12 CHAMPIONS. VIKINGS 48, OHIO 17.
Friends. Friends. FRIENDS.
The first conference championship of the Josh Dolan era, and we won it against the team that’s beaten us three straight times in our own building, by thirty-one points, on a neutral field, in front of my daughter.
I wore the cardigan. Bridget told me to. At 9:41 p.m. my phone buzzed. It wasn’t “sorry, Dad.” It was a photo. Bridget, in the press box, in her green Ohio lanyard, holding up a little hand-lettered sign that said “PROUD OF YOU, DAD. NOW GO WIN THE WHOLE THING.” I’ve already offered to pay her fine.
Monday at Sal’s, the pennant was gone. Not turned to the wall. Gone. In its place, taped to the mirror, a note in Sal’s handwriting: “Congratulations, Mick. Now don’t embarrass the conference.” Then he gave me the best haircut I’ve had in twenty-five years. Even sideburns, folks. Even.
And the playoff. Our first. Ever. Twelve and one, and the bracket says we’ve got a bye, and then the quarterfinals.
Five pierogi. Stan thawed the one from the freezer. He was right to label it.
Thirty-one points. Over Ohio. For the Big 12 title.
I want to write something measured, and I can’t, so here’s what happened in the press box. When the clock hit zero, I stood up. I didn’t decide to. My body stood up on its own. And across the room, Bridget Bridges, Ohio’s own communications staffer, caught my eye, gave me a very small nod and went back to her laptop. That’s the most professional congratulations I’ve ever received.
Then I called my father from the press box. I didn’t wait for Sunday. My mother answered, and I said, “Put Dad on.” She did. I said, “Dad, we beat Ohio. For the Big 12.” He said, “By how much?” I said, “Thirty-one.” He was quiet. Then he said, “Kenny, that doesn’t happen.” I said, “It happened.” He said, “Write it down.” I’m writing it down. Here it is. In the paper. For you, Dad.
The playoff starts after a bye. The Doom Model has deleted its “just in case” file and renamed it “in case.”
Back and forth
Big 12 champions, Kenny!
Over Ohio. I’ll never get used to typing that.
Sal’s pennant is gone.
Gone? Not turned? That’s the greatest act of sportsmanship in Cleveland history.
The first Big 12 title of the Dolan era, won by thirty-one over the team that owned our address, a pennant retired, and a father who told his son to write it down.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.