Dallas Again, and the Fight Song Goes to Athens by Video
Cleveland State49
SMU16
- Game
- 2031 Week 2
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 2-0
Vikings 49, SMU 16, in Dallas. Two and oh.
Thirty-three points of daylight, our fourth straight win over the Mustangs, and our guys never let them breathe. The new offensive coordinator, Patrick Ezeudu, came to us from New Mexico State, and so far his offense is doing what our offenses do: scoring, and then scoring again.
Now, a grandfather’s report. Every Sunday at noon, Bridget props her phone up on the kitchen counter in Athens and Rose and I have a video call. Rose is eight weeks old. She mostly looks at the ceiling fan. I sing her the fight song anyway. Bridget says that when I get to the line about “the steel and the lake,” Rose kicks her legs. Eli says it’s “a reflex.” Bridget says, “Eli, let him have it.” I like Eli.
Then, at the end of the call, Bridget sings the Ohio fight song to her. Right in front of me. On my call. Rose kicks her legs for that one too. I’ve told Donna this is a long game. Donna said, “Michael, she’s eight weeks old. She also kicks for the dishwasher.”
Four pierogi.
A thirty-three-point road win at SMU to go two and oh. The Vikings have outscored their opponents a hundred forty-seven to nineteen. That’s not a statistic. That’s a typo the universe refuses to fix.
The new coordinator, Ezeudu, runs a faster offense than Brian Draft did: the ball is snapped quicker, the receivers are wider. Price looks comfortable in it. He looks like a man who knows exactly how long a year on the sideline is.
Teresa and I had dinner at the diner on Lorain where we had our first coffee, four years ago this fall. She ordered the same thing. I ordered the same thing. Neither of us said anything about it. On the way out, the waitress, who’s worked there since the Carter administration, said, “You two again.” Teresa said, “Us two again.” I’m not sure what I’m reporting. Something about being known.
Something is in my coat pocket. It has been there since August. It’s small. I’m not discussing it. Mickey knows, because Mickey found the receipt in my car. He’s been sworn to secrecy. He’s lasting about as well as you’d expect.
Back and forth
I’m not saying anything about the coat pocket.
You just said “coat pocket” in a newspaper.
That’s not saying anything!
Mickey. Respectfully. It’s literally saying it.
A fourth straight win in Dallas, two fight songs on one Sunday video call, and something small in a coat pocket that Mickey is absolutely, definitely not mentioning.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.