Dallas, a Shootout, and Mickey Starts Counting
Cleveland State56
SMU35
- Game
- 2035 Week 6
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 6-0
Vikings 56, SMU 35, in Dallas. Six and oh.
Twenty-one points of daylight against the Mustangs, our sixth win over them in six tries. SMU scored thirty-five, which is more than anyone’s scored on us this year, and our offense just kept answering. DuBose to Reece, over and over, like a song with one verse.
I want to talk to you about something, folks, and I’m going to be honest, because I always am.
I’ve started counting. Not points. Years. I’ve covered this program since 1994. That’s forty-two seasons, counting this one. Forty-two jerseys in the closet on three racks. I’m sixty-seven. I’ve had a stent. Teddy retired. Phil’s retiring. Leo’s going to college. Rose can sing two fight songs at once.
And on the drive home from the airport Saturday night, Donna asked me, “Michael, how many more?” Not as a threat. Just a question. And I didn’t have an answer. I said, “As many as I can.” She said, “That’s not a number.” I said, “That’s what the doctor said about pierogi.” She laughed. Then she put her hand on mine on the gearshift and didn’t say anything for the rest of the drive.
I’m not retiring. I’m just counting.
Four pierogi. One on the plate.
A twenty-one-point road win at SMU. Six and oh. The defense allowed a season-high thirty-five; the offense made it irrelevant.
Mickey wrote about counting this week. I want to respond, once, here, and then I’ll go back to analyzing the Vikings’ pass rush, which is excellent.
Mickey, I’ve read every word you’ve written since 2014, including the ones I mocked. When you write the word “retire,” I don’t hear a threat. I hear a man doing math. I’m a man who does math for a living. Here’s mine: you’re sixty-seven, with a stent, a granddaughter, a beagle named Five and the best wife in Old Brooklyn. Any number you pick will be the right one. And whatever number you pick, I’ll be in the seat next to you until you pick it.
That’s all. Back to football. The Vikings’ sacks this year are at a pace I’ve never seen. More on that at the end of the season, as per our rules.
Back and forth
You’ll be in the seat next to me.
Until you pick the number. Then I’ll help you carry the jerseys out.
All forty-two?
Three trips. Sam has a truck.
Six and oh after a Dallas shootout, a believer doing the math on forty-two seasons, and a doubter who says any number he picks will be the right one.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.