Seventy Points in the First Round, and Stanford Goes Home
Cleveland State70
Stanford19
- Game
- 2034 CFP First Round
- Site
- Neutral site
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 13-1
VIKINGS 70, STANFORD 19. FIRST-ROUND PLAYOFF WIN.
Fifty-one points of daylight against Stanford in the first round. Folks, Stanford! A school so smart its football players have to take calculus. Our guys did the math for them. The answer was seventy.
We took the hard road this year: no bye, four games to the title if we can win them all. We did it in 2029, too. We went one game short that year. Kenny reminds me of that. I remind him that one game short is still a long way.
Big Stan opened the deli early Monday for a playoff breakfast. He made The Iowa in breakfast form: corn fritter, pork tenderloin, a fried egg on top, and a pierogi. I had one bite, as per my cardiologist and Stan’s arrangement. Then Chester, without a word, slid his own plate over to me, with one bite missing. He’d saved me a second bite. He’d done the math. Stanford isn’t the only one who can do math.
Leo and Sofia came by after their own season ended. Leo’s team made the state quarterfinals. Sofia had his “invisible coverage” stat for the whole season on a single sheet. It was very high. She says it’s “statistically significant.” Leo says it’s “just being in the right place.” They’re both right.
Five pierogi.
A fifty-one-point first-round win over Stanford. Thirteen and one. The road from here: Oregon in the quarterfinal. Then, perhaps, Ohio in the semifinal. Then, perhaps, the RedHawks again in the national championship game.
There’s a symmetry here I don’t like and Mickey loves. In 2029 the Vikings lost the Big 12 title game to Miami (OH), won a first-round game, beat the RedHawks in a playoff rematch, beat Georgia and lost the national championship game to Ohio. This year the Vikings lost the Big 12 title game to Miami (OH) and won a first-round game. If the bracket holds, they’ll see both of their rivals in the last two rounds. I didn’t plan it. The Doom Model didn’t predict it. The calendar did.
Teresa noticed me checking the bracket at 2 a.m. She took my phone and put it in the freezer. It survived. That’s twice now, pool and freezer. She says next time it’s the lake.
My father, Sunday: “Did we win?” “Seventy, Dad.” “Seventy.” He laughed. He didn’t know who we played. He knew seventy was good. Notebook: “Seventy.”
Back and forth
Chester saved me a second bite.
He did the math. Chester’s been doing the math for forty years. He just never shows his work.
Your phone’s in the freezer?
Was. It’s thawed. Teresa says the lake is next. She’s never once failed to follow through.
Seventy points over Stanford on the long road, a second bite saved by a quiet man who did the math, and a phone retrieved from the freezer at 2 a.m.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.