Big 12 Champions Again, and Kansas State Gets a Rematch Anyway
Cleveland State52
Kansas State30
- Game
- 2031 Big 12 Championship
- Site
- Neutral site
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 13-0
VIKINGS 52, KANSAS STATE 30. BIG 12 CHAMPIONS. THIRTEEN AND OH.
Our third Big 12 title in four years, folks: 2028, 2030 and now 2031. Twenty-two points of daylight against a Kansas State team that once beat us by thirty-one in Manhattan. You’ll remember Chester’s words last year: “That’s for 2025.” This year Chester didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He just pointed at the scoreboard on the TV, then at the empty nail on Big Stan’s wall, and raised one eyebrow.
Stan understood. He didn’t hang anything. Not yet. He said, “Not on the nail, Chester. The nail’s for something bigger.” The council voted on what “bigger” meant. It was six to nothing that nobody would say it out loud. Chester abstained. He always abstains.
And here’s a strange one: the playoff committee gave us the bye, and our first playoff game is against Kansas State. Again. We beat them for the Big 12 title, and our reward is to beat them again. I didn’t know you could play the same team twice in a row. You can. Apparently it’s legal.
Five pierogi.
A twenty-two-point win over Kansas State for a third Big 12 championship in four years. Thirteen and oh. The Vikings have gone unbeaten in league play for the second straight year.
The bracket. The Vikings drew a bye and then, after it, Kansas State again in the quarterfinal. That’s two straight games against the same opponent. I’ve checked the bracket three times to make sure I’m reading it right. I am. The committee has a sense of humor, or no sense of anything.
If the Vikings win that one, Oklahoma or another giant waits in the semifinal. And on the other side of the bracket, Ohio, which didn’t even make the Big 12 title game, is still alive, still dangerous and, I’m told by Bridget through Mickey, “not done.”
The trivia pool has closed. Nadia announced it Tuesday: “No more entries. Something’s about to happen.” She looked straight at me. I looked at my beer. My beer had nothing to say. I’ve started carrying the coat even indoors. It’s become a whole look.
Back and forth
Stan says the nail’s for something bigger.
Everybody in this city has a nail for something bigger. I’ve stopped asking.
The pool’s closed?
Nadia closed it. She knows something. Nadia always knows something.
A third Big 12 title in four years, a nail saved for something bigger, a rematch nobody asked for, and a coat that Ken now wears indoors on principle.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.