Colorado Finally Comes to Cleveland
Cleveland State57
Colorado39
- Game
- 2032 Week 3
- Site
- Home
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 3-0
VIKINGS 57, COLORADO 39. AT HOME.
Folks, do you know how long I’ve waited to write that sentence? Colorado. In Cleveland. For the first time. Every time we’ve played the Buffaloes, it’s been in Boulder: in 2024 we lost by three, in 2025 we lost by twenty-three, and in 2026 we finally won by seven. Three trips to the mountains. Three columns about altitude. And this year, at last, they had to come here, to sea level, to the lake, to the wind, to us.
Eighteen points of daylight. Three and oh.
I went to Sal’s on Monday and sat in the chair, and you’ll remember what Sal did in 2024 after we lost in Boulder: he took a little extra off the sides, “for sympathy.” This year he took a little extra off the sides again, and I said, “Sal, we won.” He said, “I know, Mick. This one’s for the old days.” I said, “That’s very sentimental.” He said, “Don’t tell anybody.” Folks, I’ve told everybody.
The pennants are still up over the mirror. There are three of them now: OHIO NATIONAL CHAMPIONS 2029, 2030 and 2031. Sal’s put up a fourth nail. Of course he has.
Five pierogi. One for each Boulder column I wrote with frostbite.
An eighteen-point home win over Colorado, the first time the Buffaloes have played in Cleveland in the Dolan era. The Vikings were zero and two in Boulder before they won there in 2026. Turns out the cure for Colorado was geography.
At trivia this week, Nadia asked a question nobody got: “In what year did the Cleveland State Vikings first beat Colorado?” Teresa wrote “2026.” She was right. I didn’t know my wife knew that. I asked her how. She said, “Kenny, I read your columns. I married your columns.” Our team won the round. Nadia rang the bell and then looked at Teresa for a long time and said, “You’ve ruined him. He’s happy.” I said, “I’m not happy. I’m content.” Nadia said, “That’s worse.”
The Doom Model has been quiet since the wedding. When I opened it this week, there was a new tab I’d never seen. It’s called “Married.” It has one cell. The cell says, “OK.”
Back and forth
Colorado at sea level, Kenny!
Geography is the best defensive coordinator in the country.
Your model said “OK” about you getting married?
It did. It’s the most positive thing it’s ever said about anything. I’m framing it.
Colorado finally comes to the lake, Sal takes a little extra off the sides for the old days, and a spreadsheet gives its blessing in a single cell.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.