Twenty-Three to Seventeen: A Different Kind of Win
Cleveland State23
Texas A&M17
- Game
- 2035 CFP Quarterfinal
- Site
- Neutral site
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 13-1
VIKINGS 23, TEXAS A&M 17. INTO THE NATIONAL SEMIFINAL.
Twenty-three points. For a team that’s scored seventy, eighty, ninety, twenty-three points felt like a whisper. And it was enough. Our defense held a very good SEC team to seventeen in a playoff quarterfinal, and our offense did just enough, and we’re going to the semifinal for the second straight year.
Six points, folks. I sat down. My heart did fine. My knee bounced so hard Donna put her purse on it.
I want to say something about our defense this year. Zach Cantrell, a senior defensive end, has been chasing quarterbacks all season like they owe him money. Nobody’s going to remember this game in ten years as anything but a low-scoring quarterfinal. I’m going to remember it as the day the defense won it.
Next: Ohio. In the semifinal. For the second straight year. We beat them in Athens a few weeks ago. We beat them in the semifinal last year. Tim Slocombe’s team has been the most dangerous team in the country for a decade. I don’t care about their record. Ohio is always Ohio.
Rose called. She said, “Grandpa, I’m waving whichever one is sad again.” I said, “I know, sweetheart.” She said, “I’m going to try not to have to.”
Five pierogi.
A six-point quarterfinal win over Texas A&M. Thirteen and one. The lowest-scoring Vikings win since I can’t remember when.
Low-scoring games are where you find out what a team actually believes about itself. This team believes it can win any kind of game. It’s been winning shootouts for a decade. On Saturday it won a grind.
Ohio in the semifinal, for the second straight year. The rivalry since 2024: the Vikings lead it, ten games to eight, I believe, though I’ve stopped trusting my counting and started trusting Sofia’s. She sent me a chart. She’s right. The Vikings lead.
And on the other side of the bracket, the RedHawks keep winning. Nadia’s sign over the bar now reads: “SEE YOU AT THE END. I HOPE.” She underlined “I hope.” I asked her which part she hopes. She said, “Both, Ken. Both parts.” I’ve stopped trying to make Nadia choose. Mickey and I have never been able to either.
Teresa’s booked something for after the season. She won’t tell me where. She says it’s “warm” and “far from a stadium.” I asked if there’s Wi-Fi. She didn’t answer. That’s an answer.
Back and forth
The defense won it, Kenny.
Cantrell won it. Twenty-three points. A whisper. It was enough.
Teresa booked a trip?
Somewhere warm. No stadium. Possibly no Wi-Fi. I’m afraid. I’m also packing.
A low-scoring quarterfinal won by a defense that chases quarterbacks like debts, a semifinal against Ohio again, and a sign at the Lantern Room that hopes both parts.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.