NATIONAL CHAMPIONS
Cleveland State34
Georgia24
- Game
- 2028 National Championship
- Site
- Neutral site
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 15-1
NATIONAL CHAMPIONS. CLEVELAND STATE 34, GEORGIA 24.
I’m writing this at four in the morning at Big Stan’s, because nobody went home. Stan finally painted the board. Gold letters, still wet: THE CHAMPION: every sandwich on the board, stacked, on a platter, “for the whole city.” Chester ate a whole one. Walt’s seating chart worked. Gerald came for ham and stayed till dawn.
The day the sky opened, friends. Fifteen and one. Big 12 champions. Number one in the final AP poll. And these men: Amar’e Hocker, the three-star freshman who became a legend, won the Heisman, the Maxwell, the Walter Camp and the Davey O’Brien, and set school records with 5,364 passing yards, 63 touchdown passes and 24 rushing touchdowns. Baraka Nwangwu ran for 2,329 yards, a Big 12 record, won the Doak Walker and made All-American. The good Kenny, Kenny Tongues, caught 26 touchdowns, a school record, and made All-American. Kareem Duggan won the Mackey, our third, and made All-American. Nate Cavka won the Thorpe.
I’m going to frame the scoreboard photo and hang it over my desk forever. Bridget texted at midnight: “congratulations, national champion. I love you. don’t make it weird.” I’m making it a little weird.
Five pierogi. Jersey thirty-five gets a crown.
Editor’s note: Ken Hogmanes filed 1,200 words on the dangers of regression to the mean. The editor cut it. Here is what survived.
Fine. Wow.
Ten points over Georgia. Fifteen and one. National champions.
When the clock hit zero I called my father from the press box. He knew. He’d watched the whole thing with my mother, and he was clear: clearer than I’ve heard him in two years. He said, “Kenny, we did it.” Not “they.” We. Then he said, “Your grandfather would’ve lost his mind.” I said, “Pops always said never trust a lead.” My father laughed, a real laugh, the old one, and said, “Pops never had a lead like this.”
Teresa was in the stands with Mickey’s family. She texted me a photo of Donna in the green cape, holding a cardboard sign that said “THE KENNY FAN SECTION.” Leo Reyes was holding the other end.
The Doom Model’s single cell now reads: “OK. Fine. Wow.”
Back and forth
Say it, Kenny. Say “I believe.”
I believe we’re national champions. That’s a fact, not a feeling.
That’s the closest you’ve ever come.
Put it in the case, Mick. It’s in the case now. Give me a little time.
National champions: a sandwich for the whole city, a Heisman winner who started as a three-star freshman, and Ray Hogmanes saying “we” with a clear voice from Sarasota.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.