After a weekend spent mostly trying (and failing) to forget the events that aired between 12:30 and 4:30 pm Pacific Time on Monday afternoon, I am at a loss.
I spent 6 hours playing beer pong. Didn’t work.
Went over to a friend’s apartment to try and be sociable. Didn’t work.
Went kayaking. Didn’t work.
I was not alone in my futility. My dad texted me about an hour after the game and said “I just went to the range and pounded sixty golf balls…still pissed off. This team will be the death of me.”
Different week, same result.
At the end of the Maryland game, I wrote the loss off to suspensions and weather and stupid uniforms and God knows what else…but I wrote it off.
After Kansas State, I didn’t even register we had lost. I was numb to it and didn’t really feel like we should have won in the first place.
This time, I have no excuses. I have nothing to write it off to. This game was lost because we were too fucking soft when it counted.
The way to win this game, in a hostile stadium against a pissed off team, was to hit them in the mouth early and force them to play catch up. I didn’t realize before the game what a shootout it would become; no one did. However, I did know that Tech was just too good a team to only play one half against.
To their credit, the Miami offense came out and immediately worked the body. After getting the
ball deep into Tech territory, Miami was unable to get a yard on 2nd Down. And then again on 3rd down. Disappointing, but not devastating that early in the game. Take the 3, the lead and the early momentum. Hit them in the mouth and make them react.Instead, Miami tried a fake field goal (love the sentiment and the balls, hate the timing) that was snuffed from the word “go”. No momentum. No points. A beehive kicked over. All because we had two shots to get one effing yard and couldn’t.
Virginia Tech scored a touchdown. And then another. All of a sudden the ‘Canes were chasing two touchdowns, and for the umpteenth time in the last 5 years the hole was just too deep to crawl out of.
Late in the game, against all odds, Miami had retaken the lead and had only to prevent the Hokies from scoring a touchdown in the final few minutes. That was it. Not force a 3 and out, not keep them from scoring, just not let in a touchdown.
Sometimes the simplest things are the most complicated.
With under a minute left, the ‘Canes were once again a yard from victory. 4th down. 3 feet. Protect your territory and gain a huge win. Falter and watch the other guys celebrate.
Touchdown Tech.
The comeback was valiant, but once again this team proved soft when it really counted. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but the core of this team has seen this type of loss play out over and over again for 3 years. Enough is enough.
This season has already been on of the most frustrating of my life. And it is not yet half over. I am glad I waited to write this for a couple of days, because otherwise it would have been more vitriolic.
This team is about 6 yards from being 5-0 as opposed to 2-3.
Think about what that feels like as a fan. Week in and week out I get up at 7:30 am because I can’t sleep. I pace around all god damned day to try and distract myself from the wait. I try and get invested in the earlier games to take my mind off the time.
I yell and scream for 4 hours during the game. I break a sweat and lose my voice (while sitting on the couch mostly).
And then it ends with a punch straight to the groin. Most of the time it is all I can do to keep from crying.
I empathize with Al Golden, who had tears in his eyes at the end of that game. This team has a habit of sucking you in and then causing you great pain.
Everyone can empathize with this, because we’ve all been there:
The promotion you want but keeps getting postponed.
The pretty girl you want that is just out of your grasp.
The ‘Canes fit right in: the football team that should win but finds a way to lose.
After the game I was left with an apartment full of people. Friends. People I hold near and dear. I had to excuse myself from the group to go in to my room for a few minutes to cool off. I didn’t want to say something I didn’t mean (sometimes it is the nice people that suffer the wrath of Stein on the Sidelines…not my finest trait).
After I emerged I sat down next to my roommate on the couch. He said something that anyone who has been passed over for the promotion or stymied by the girl that they know they belong with can understand:
“We deserve better.”
You’re God damned right we do.
We deserve a team that fights for the yard and wins.
If this were a girl or a job, we would advise a friend to move on. Find a new girl. Find a new job. Someone or something that values you as much as you value them.
Just like in real life, we don’t move on. We believe it will come eventually. We have the right guy in charge. We will figure out how to not roll over like cheap Hollywood hookers on defense, whether under this coordinator or another. We will learn to not take stupid penalties and we will win the inches that separate a 5-0 team from a 2-3 team.
But until then there are going to be a lot of pissed off afternoons spent drinking more than I should and pounding driving range balls.
I feel your pain Coach Golden. I need you to fix the problem just as much as I want you to, because whether you do or not we will be here waiting. My expectations of winning every week won’t come down, so hopefully the performance of the team comes up, because I know I can’t take many more afternoons like that one. Neither can my dad.
Always guard the inbound passer.
No comments:
Post a Comment