Clark's Spot

After this year’s Ohio State-Michigan game (37-7), Ohio State coach Jim Tressel offered a statement that I never expected a Buckeye coach to say. “Michigan will be back. You don’t have to worry about that.” While some Big Ten fans (and even Buckeye fans) make comments about how recent lopsided runs have diluted the rivalry, I’m in no particular hurry to see Michigan return to the top of the conference standings.

But Tressel’s comment got me thinking about a fact I’d read once years before. A decent chunk of the wins that make Michigan’s football program the winningest in the country came in the first half of the 20th Century. If college football has changed since the days of Woody and Bo, it has definitely changed since the time of Fielding Yost.

College programs and conference strength is cyclical so I don’t doubt that Tressel’s statement was true. But I wondered how Ohio State and Michigan have fared over the life of their programs.

Michigan is clearly dominant early in its history, and it went through several down periods in the 1930s and 1960s before its current troubles. Meanwhile, Ohio State seems to vary much more. Its record is more spiky. When the Buckeyes are good, they’re good. And when they’re down, they’re down. But the only time they’ve fallen as low as Michigan in the past 100 years was during the 1940s.

This left me with one further question. How do the teams look when compared to the entire Big Ten conference?

I grabbed the season winning percentages for the 11 teams currently in the Big Ten since they began football. I wasn’t trying to capture the time since the school joined the conference. I wanted to look at how dominant the programs were overall – even if they didn’t line up against each other every year. Finally, I added a 10-year moving average for Ohio State and Michigan.

While other conference teams have surpassed one (or both teams) for a year or two at different times, the moving average is clearly well above the normal season for the bulk of the Big Ten. It’s normal for the single best team in the Big Ten in any given year to keep pace with the 10-year average for the better of these two teams. I was really surprised to see just how dominant the two programs are. One team or the other is always at the top – if not both teams.

The other big thing I learned from my two weeks of number crunching? Tressel’s comment was a bit off base. Michigan’s 10-year average still has two 10-3 seasons (2002 and 2003) and an 11-2 season (2006). But it’s only recently began to drop its moving average and is only slightly below the period of the early 1990s that would include the Earle Bruce-John Cooper transition years in the Buckeyes 10-year average.

I’m not a golfer, but here’s something new I’m trying out. A few links for the weekend reading.

Bad customer service at Target. (I walked down to the aisle in time to catch the stock boy take the sale sign down. He told me he took it down. Not shopping there anymore.

What’s up with the Haiti seeds in Farmville?

You’ll have a long walk if you go to the Penn State game.

A worthwhile experiment – if you can remember to do it for a full month.

Pennsylvania’s new budget cuts funds for environmental projects.

The alarm sounded again early yesterday and today. Work resumed after a two week end-of-year break. While I sat reviewing the unread e-mails in my inbox (listservs, notes to myself, and notes from co-workers urging me to follow up on ideas and inspiration), I wondered where the past two weeks went.

I heard a saying once that even a bucket with small holes in the bottom loses water – and will eventually empty just as a bucket deliberately emptied. No missing the meaning of that. Be efficient and effective when using your time. Actually, be jealous so to avoid wasting it. There’s a great thought – whether it be a resolution for the year or a admonition to focus on business when returning to work.

Where did the past two weeks go? I worked on the Lackawanna Historical Society’s upcoming newsletter, traveled to Ohio and to Philadelphia, did end-of-year work for the local chapter of the Sons of the American Revolution, watched some bowl games, researched my ancestors in Southwestern Pennsylvania, read two books – The Grapes of Wrath (#10) and The Seven Daughters of Eve, and worked on a few other projects that you’ll hear about in the near future.

The first Monday back in the office was actually welcome.

The offer came as I was on my way out the door that Friday: Tickets to the Syracuse game the next day.

I enjoy watching big-time college football. I was in the Ohio State Marching Band in college, and we visited most of the Big Ten stadiums in my five years. We also saw the Superdome and Raymond James Stadium during bowl games, and I got a visit to the Rose Bowl before my final year of college. It’s been a few years since I spent fall Saturdays in football stadiums, but I miss that setting and was excited by the opportunity – and, yes, I know there’s no mistaking current Syracuse football with anything in the Top 25.

It was supposed to rain the whole day. My wife warned me not to get sick. Roger asked about the bad weather. Not to worry, I said, Syracuse play in a dome (that is surely more raucous for basketball games).

It poured the entire way there. Didn’t help that we left an hour after we planned. Avoided active construction zones, but the single lanes slowed us down. And I topped out at 48 while squinting through my windshield on I-81. Only saw one accident on the way up, parked (Syracuse has the goofiest way of getting you to their visitors’ parking lot), and took a university shuttle down to the Carrier Dome. One guy was amped up for the game, and he tried to get the full bus revved up. Nobody was interested. There was more response from the lady at the gate who took our tickets. “Those are nice seats,” she said.

The dome was half empty. I’ve never really been at a half-empty stadium for a college game before. My alma mater’s traveling fans would take any unused seats from whoever was the home team normally. Heck, it was easier to get a ticket to an away game than a home game for some people I knew. The folks around us said that the fans openly mocked the announcement that there were 35,000 people there the week before. Announcer listed 27,000 at our game.

We walked in about 4 minutes into the game just as an Orangeman was running into the end zone. Fans were ecstatic. Game continued that way. Syracuse continued to do well. I was underwhelmed by the band, and the food was adequate. The game and stadium developed an odd feel. It was reserved similar to a baseball game but with the action of football. Fans weren’t into big plays. Some of the times they were most passionate was when they wanted a penalty called (and there was obviously no penalty on the play). A couple years of mediocre football can dampen everyone’s edges – the fans, the band, the team. Everything became lackluster and missed the passion found on other college campuses.

Pittsburgh, the visitors, finally pulled even and took the lead as the game wound into the fourth quarter. As Syracuse turned the ball over and the game got out of reach, fans finally became vocal – in criticizing the coaches and players. (They’re college kids folks…) When they weren’t groaning and yelling at the coaching, they discussed options for a new coach next year. This guy has a tie to the team, this guy once lived in the area, that guy knows the university’s administration…

Everyone filed out grumbling about the game that got away. It was then that I heard somebody say something – one of the memorable items about the trip. A guy walking into the bathroom was trying to bolster the spirits of a stranger. “Faith, it’s called sticking with your team,” he said.

Hmm, no, that’s loyalty. I saw loyalty but not faith – the fans seemed surprised their team was leading for so much of the game. And when fans lack faith, their excitement and enthusiasm isn’t there. Without that, it really isn’t college football.