Two Days Too Late Thoughts on Iowa-ISU

Let me preface this entire post by saying that losing sucks, and losing to Iowa State sucks worse than most. I never want Iowa to lose a game against anyone, and it is never fun when it happens.

With that said, I’m not that pissed that Iowa fell to Iowa State on Saturday.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some things I am pissed about:

Iowa doesn’t look good. That isn’t a slight against ISU, even though the crazy contingent of Clone fans will take it as such. Iowa was favored to win for a reason. They were supposed to be a better team. They were supposed to dominate both lines of scrimmage, and they were supposed to have the better quarterback. Maybe they do. Time will tell. The one thing we know for sure is that the better team with the better player under center won the game on Saturday.

I’m also upset that Iowa played for overtime at the end of regulation. Before you say it, I know what you’re thinking. That’s Kirk Ferentz, they’ve won plenty of games playing that way, and it will never change. That’s fine, and I’ll take the good with the bad, but I see a difference between the situation at Ohio State in 2009 and the situation Saturday in Ames. That’s all I have to say about that.

Here’s why I’m not as mad as I should be: I like Iowa State.

I like the coach, the players, the uniforms, the stadium with the new video board, and (most of all) the people who are close to the program. It’s hard to be mad when people you like are happy. I’m glad that the players got to experience the satisfaction of taking down a rival. I feel like Coach Rhoads deserved that win. I loved hearing John Walters’ call of the game-winning touchdown and the post game call in show with Chris Williams. They beat my team, but they did it legitimately and with class, and that’s a loss I can handle.

Most importantly, that game was good for the rivalry. I wont go as far as to say it was “needed”, because it has been a back and forth rivalry ever since Iowa’s streak of 15 straight was snapped in 1998 (had to throw that in). Andy Fales put it best on Sunday night’s SoundOff on TV 13: a rivalry is like a pendulum, and if it doesn’t swing both ways it stops. That game swung the pendulum further in the other direction than it has been in a long time. It was no fluke, and the outcome was uncertain until the last play. That’s what a real rivalry game should be.

Iowa State is better than we thought they’d be, and Iowa is worse. That’s what everyone learned on Saturday. What I learned is that I can feel relatively good after a loss.

And it’s not like we lost to Nebraska.

The Case for the Corn Belt

The original Cy-Hawk Trophy was created in 1976 for the 1977 installment of the Iowa-Iowa State football game, which was the first year the teams had played each other since 1934 (thanks, wikipedia). It was awarded through 2010 when it was retired. It resembled an upscale little league trophy and was far from original, let alone unique, but it accomplished its mission.

The second version of the Cy-Hawk Trophy came just short of the 34 year run of the first. It lived for just over 5 days. It resembled a three dimensional painting of a typical Iowa farm scene from the '60s.

The third, and hopefully final, version of the trophy will be decided upon by the factions of each fan base that actually care about what trophies look like. The following is one man's argument for what that trophy should be.

The idea has been floated, I'm not sure who came up with it first or I would credit them, of making the Cy-Hawk Trophy a boxing/WWF-style belt, calling it the Corn Belt. I could not agree more that this is what should happen. I feel like I can make two basic points that one would have trouble arguing against.

1. The Corn Belt would generate a national buzz, however temporary, around a game and rivalry that typically does not garner much national attention.

2. The Corn Belt is something unique in college football that each school, team, and fan base could rally around.

To the first point, the national media has already focused on this trophy once in the past few weeks. The fact that an almost universally hated trophy would be presented at the end of the game was something that many latched on to. It seemed like less of a story when the Iowa Corn Growers Association rightly conceded that a change needed to be made, but it was still reported on. If the new trophy is just your run-of-the-mill piece of metal on top of a block of wood, looking like a rivalry trophy that would be used in a movie (no history, no back story, just something generic that makes it supremely obvious what it is for) I have a feeling no one outside of the state will notice. Maybe you don't care if anyone else notices. You should.

National media attention is a double-edged sword, there's no doubt about it; and a lot of the attention given to these programs of late has been anything but good. It's one reason we can all pronounce rhabdomyolysis. But it can also be a great boon to things like recruiting. I admit, it is a bit of a stretch to say a story on a cool trophy will significantly affect recruiting, but I'm of the mind that both schools should take any positive publicity they can get, and seize any chance to stand out amongst the increasing crowd of competitive FBS football programs.

This would be a story the day it was announced. It would be a story the first Saturday it was awarded. It would make SportsCenter every year, because nowhere else can you see football players hoisting a belt above their head in triumph. It is unique to this rivalry and this game, and uniqueness gets noticed.

The second, and more important point, seems obvious to me. I used the word "unique" and not something like "cool" because I realize that not everyone shares my idea of coolness. But this would be freaking cool. Watching the victorious team run to the opposite sideline to grab this belt would be cool. Watching the first player to arrive at it throw it above his head, one handed, while the throng that follows all reaches to touch it would be cool.

If you can't see the inherent coolness, you must at least agree that it would be better than watching 4 guys awkwardly lift a 50 pound block of wood and metal, and slowly carrying it to the opposite sideline. They could run around with the belt held up. They could carry it to the student section and let the fans touch it as they went by. It could be passed around and held by each player. It could be enjoyed.

But more importantly than any of that, it would be ours. Only ours.

This is our chance to stand up and stand out and have something that no one else can lay claim to. There will be a belt awarded at a football game. This idea is too good to just die here. Why not make it our game? 

Jack of All Trades

Jack of all trades, master of none. It sounds a little like a derogatory statement, one you wouldn’t want applied to you. For me, it is a way of life, and one that I am proud of. I can’t pinpoint when it occurred to me that I am above average at nearly every aspect of my life and am elite at almost nothing; but the realization did not sadden me. Some examples of what I’m referring to:

In high school I was a three-sport athlete; football, wrestling, and baseball. In nearly every instance, I was not quite good enough to be a starter at the varsity level. But if you dropped me to JV in any of these sports, I dominated. Absolutely dominated.

I am an intelligent person. In 3^rd grade I scored unusually high on the Iowa Test of Basic Skills, prompting the powers that be to put me into a Talented and Gifted program for the remainder of my education. Amongst the normal kids, I stood out as unusually smart. Amongst the unusually smart, I was barely able to keep up.

I can write, but this isn’t the best blog you’ve ever read. I’m not ugly, but I’m far from beautiful. I am fun, but have never been the life of any party. In fact, the only area in which I feel amongst the best is in my job. I can produce the shit out of a radio show.

Before I continue, this isn’t meant to be braggadocious or self-deprecating.  It is merely an objective look at my life, or as close to objective as one can be about themselves.

It has come to my attention that most people don’t wish for this kind of widespread competence. It seems that most people want to be great at one thing, and the rest is almost irrelevant. If you’d like to be elite at one thing, everything else needs to fall by the wayside, and the examples of this are rampant. Look at nearly any successful athlete. There’s a reason these people seem a little dumb and at times have difficulty functioning in normal society. In most cases, these people were spotted at a young age and their life was directed towards success in a given sport. They didn’t come home from school and read a book or play video games, they practiced.

When I got home from school I read books, played video games, played sports, watched TV, listened to music, and did a plethora of other things. I can tell you the plot of To Kill A Mockingbird, the cheat code to Contra,  the rules of hot box (or pickle), and the backstory of every character to ever appear on Saved By The Bell. If you reference something that was culturally relevant in the last 20 years, I’m right with you. I can hold my own in nearly any conversation and will never feel dumb for not knowing something that seemingly everyone else knows. This, I believe, is the value of being a Jack of all trades.

If I wanted to psychoanalyze myself, I’d say a lot of my desire to never stand out (either in a positive or negative way) has to do with moving around as a kid. I changed elementary schools in 4^th grade, high schools my sophomore year, and went to college knowing nobody. I currently have at least 5 distinct groups of friends, each very different from the next, yet I fit in with all of them. I am a chameleon. If you met me, you’d probably like me, because I would seem similar to you. This is because whatever you are into, I am into as well. Maybe not to the same extent as you, but I could hold up my end of the conversation.

It is only recently that I noticed this in myself, but now that I see it, it is impossible to deny. I unconsciously alter my personality to fit the people who surround me. I’m not lying, per se, just omitting things that don’t fit. The only people who see my whole personality are those who I am very close to. Some would say that this makes me boring, that it eliminates my originality. These people usually stand out in a crowd.

I’m not the best at anything. Maybe I never will be. But I am a well-rounded person who is comfortable in his own skin, even if that skin is rarely shown in its entirety. And I’ll never feel left out.

My Fallen Hero

To most people, Barry Bonds is the representation of everything that is wrong with baseball. He is a player that didn't need to cheat, but did. He had the natural ability to challenge some of the greatest records in the history of the sport, but he instead chose to destroy those records with the help of science. At best, he is a jealous liar; at worst, a soulless opportunist. Barry Bonds IS everything that is wrong with the game. The problem is that for me, he is also everything that is right with the game.

I grew up a San Fransisco Giants fan. I was 10 years old when Barry Bonds signed with the team. I vaguely remember bits and pieces of the Battle of the Bay-Earthquake Series in 1989; but for all intents and purposes, the signing of Bonds is my first recollection of being a Giants fan. And it is a good memory. Bonds instantly became my favorite player. I liked Will Clark and Matt Williams and Jeff Kent (kind of), but they were no Barry Bonds. Giants baseball is in his blood. Bonds began a 12 year tear through the National League, including 5 MVP awards and a heartbreaking loss in the 2002 World Series. To a kid, he was larger than life. I didn't care (and was unaware at the time) that he had a volatile relationship with the press. I didn't, and still don't, care what you thought of him. I loved him. He is why I love baseball.

And he is why you hate baseball.

It's a tough thing to reconcile. When everyone turns on your hero, and you completely understand why, it's hard to know how to feel. Now is a good time to point out that I am not a Bonds apologist. He used steroids. He cheated the game. I do think he should be inducted into the Hall of Fame, but I think the other players from that time should too. Baseball had a Steroid Era. There is no point in trying to deny that or forget that it happened. Bonds may have become the face of that era, but he was far from the only culprit.

My freshman year at the University of Iowa began in 2001. That fall, Barry Bonds ended the season with 73 home runs. On the dry erase board that hung on my dorm room door, I wrote BONDS WATCH and every day I would update his home run total. I distinctly remember the excitement of watching him hit 70-73. One day, I would tell my children about this. If I ever have kids I will tell them about Bonds, but the story will be much different now. It will be a cautionary tale of what happens when you find out baseball players are nothing more than human.

People who are older than I find it easy to look at the Steroid Era and judge those involved. They will tell you that these players should never be allowed in the Hall of Fame. They will say that these players stained the game and aren't worthy of our adoration. These people have real heroes like Willie Mays and Hank Aaron and others who were apparently flawless. My generation doesn't have these heroes. We have Mark McGwire and Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds. These were the players we grew up with. These are the players who made us fall in love with baseball, and these are the players labelled as villains. They may be criminals, but they are our criminals. I didn't choose to fall in love with a cheater. I didn't have a choice.

Baseball is a game you fall in love with as a child, then grow to understand as a man. I don't know how to reconcile my childish love for Bonds and my awareness of his faults as a man. I don't love baseball less because of what I know now. Maybe the game I fell in love with wasn't "real" in your terms, but reality is subjective. For me, and those in my generation, it couldn't have been more real.