What kind of world do we live in where UC football fans can legitimately (and quite possibly temporarily) talk trash to TOSU nation?
It’s frightening when you think about it, in an End of Days kinda way. But here we are.
The Bearcats can go from Greatest Victory Ever to Greatest, Greatest Victory Ever in less than a month’s time, should they follow the W over Houston with a W over Alabama, aka That Team Down South. Then, a chance to make a Greatest, Greatest, Greatest memory the following week.
The superlatives whip past like a bullet train outta Tokyo, so fast that you have no time to savor/cherish anything. It’s like going from one great-time hangover to the next, without so much as a Bloody Mary.
So here’s a cure: Let’s take a quick glance at the Bad Old Days. A trip down Bad Memory Lane. You can’t know pleasure without also knowing pain. Suffering is a key to appreciation, yeah? I’ll see your Luke Fickell and raise you a Dave Currey.
For the journey, I’ve recruited a guy I who enrolled at UC in ’75 and flunked outta Clifton in ’77, before enrolling at Ohio State. He also happens to be sports columnist. I don’t quote extensively from the writings of my peers in This Space, because, well, because it’s my Space. I’m vain and egotistical and I know youse come here to read me. Right? Right?
There are exceptions. I’m a great fan of good writing. For years, good writing has been losing ground to Lists and Charticles and junior Adam Schefters and their Inside Info. None of which inspires anyone to try to become the next Hemingway. (Except in TML, on Fridays.)
I’d blow off 10 Lists for one more Dave Kindred column. Lookimup, kids.
David Jones is a columnist for Pennlive.com. This week, he wrote of his UC experience. His merry take on the Bad Old Days begins with this:
“When I began my freshman year orientation session at the University of Cincinnati in 1975, they dispensed along with a lot of throwaway coupons and “deals” for merchandise at local establishments a packet of UC Bearcats football tickets. They just handed them to all the freshmen for nothing.’’
Jones proceeds to write, “The only similarity between the UC and OSU programs was that they were both called college football.
“They played intramural softball at Nippert. People hung out and read on the bleachers. It was open all the time.’’
Jones flunked out of Clifton after two years, painted houses for awhile, then somehow got admitted to Ohio State. (He sounds entirely like my son, the Erstwhile Kid Down the Hall, except Kelly Daugherty didn’t paint houses.)
“You cannot fathom how mind-blowing this is to anyone who attended both schools four decades ago when I did. Or to pretty much anyone else from Ohio of any age at all.’’
I’ve been here since ’88, long enough to have earned a Purple Heart at Nippert Stadium. I recall 0-81 at Penn State in ’91, crowds of fewer than 1,000 in the era of Tim Murphy, having to buy football tickets if you wanted to buy basketball tickets, op-ed columns in The Enquirer beseeching UC to drop football entirely or at least consider joining Miami in the MAC.
Even the good times ended badly, i.e. the loss to Ohio State at PBS.
I have a decent idea how mind-blowing it is. At least I got paid.
So hell yeah, go crazy, Bearcat people. Gator like Bluto. (Lookitup, Part 2.)
Meantime, I’ll exist vicariously in your joy. One best thing about what I do for cash is the child-like belief that on any given day, I’ll see something I’ve never seen before. That doesn’t happen very often. It did Saturday. Twenty-three days from now, we’ll be seeking an encore.
Now, then. . .
AT LEAST YOU DIDN’T TAKE IT PERSONALLY, OKLAHOMA. Yahoo!:
Oklahoma state senator Bill Coleman reacted to former Sooners coach Lincoln Riley's exit by requesting legislation that will turn 3 inches of the westbound lane on Oklahoma's State Highway 325 into the "Lincoln Riley Highway" as a way to "properly honor" the coach.
Coleman described the stretch as "the tiniest section of our most desolate of highways."
NOBODY CARES BUT ME, BUT IT IS MY BLOG. . . Recently, my wife started getting weird feedback from her car warning system, stuff like BRAKE OPERATION DISABLED. We figured it was a computer problem. She took the 2017 Mazda 6 to the dealership. They called awhile later, with the diagnosis:
“You need a new battery.’’
OK, cool. The car has almost 100K miles on it, never replaced the battery. That’s $150 well spent.
“It’s $800,’’ the shop guy said.
Excuse me?
It’s sort of a unique battery, he explained.
No kidding.
The guy said our Mazda 6 was outfitted with an i-Loop or e-Loop or some damned thing. It was sort of an experimental battery, not that different from those used in hybrid cars. It didn’t go well (gee, wonder why) so Mazda pulled it quickly. Almost none of the Mazda 6s made for 2017 had the i/e Loop battery.
Weren’t we lucky?
I suggested that nobody told me before I bought the car that it had an $800 battery. I’d have said, I want the same model, but with a normal battery. Now, I’m saying, “I’m not paying to be a guinea pig for Mazda. Refund me the difference’’ which would have been $650 or so.
The dealership is crediting my Visa $250. Nice, but $400 short. I call Mazda national customer disservice. I tell them everything, including that I got $250 from the dealer. The woman says since the dealer gave me money, the company can’t do anything else.
Oh.
That’s bullspit.
(Fie on!) Mazda.
The TML boycott is on. Never again another Mazda. And I have one, too, a Mazda 3. With a normal battery.
Who’s with me? Have you ever been hosed this way?
AND NOW. . . Our second scribe from the wandering troupe of talent TML has assembled to bring you the finest in Fun, a guy who wants us to call him The Event King. All right, then.
Hello! My name is David Wertheim. Paul has offered me a six-figure salary... er, wonderful opportunity to be a part of this column, writing about top events in the Cincinnati area! A little bit about myself: I am the Event Manager for Coldiron Enterprises, a local company that produces some of the tri-state's top events. I also am a recent graduate of The Ohio State University (yeah, yeah, get the jokes out now) and wrote about Ohio State football during my time in Columbus.
Now for the part you've all been waiting for: what's going on in the city this week? First off, a long-time tradition is back at Findlay Market as the Shillito's Elves display is running now until Dec. 31. While it isn't the full display (just six elves), the classic which first appeared in the 1950's is back in the Leader Furniture building through the end of the year. The elves are available to view during Findlay Market operating hours all week, but the elves are animated on the weekends.
Elsewhere, if you're one of those people who enjoys miniature train displays, then you're probably the busiest person in town. Glenwood Gardens, Krohn Conservatory, EnterTRAINment junction, and the Cincinnati Museum Center are all hosting miniature train displays this weekend. Unfortunately there is no train that takes you to and from the different displays. Maybe next year...
TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . After a year-long absence, I went back to Planet Fitness last week, after I got booster-ed. I like the place, and it’s an incredible Johnny Thinwallet bargain ($11 a month) but the music is pitiful. I still go to the basement and the resistance bands, too. When I do, I have some favorites to get the blood flowing. Among others:
Walk This Way (Run-DMC/Aerosmith version)
He Got Game and Can’t Truss It (Public Enemy)
Travelin’ Shoes (Elvin Bishop)
Star Star, Hang Fire (Stones)
Needle and The Spoon, Don’t Ask Me No Questions (Skynyrd)
Rock and Roll, Trampled Underfoot (Led Zeppelin)
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