It is my fervent hope that someday, I will complete one of these posts in a timely fashion.
Today is not that day.
I shall spend 2.4 seconds feeling bad about that and then I’mma shake it off and dive right into this week’s recap.
The opponent: Wisconsin.
The theme: CHEESE.
There is a zero percent chance I get through this thing without eating a brick of cheddar.
SCORE PREDICTION VS. ACTUAL SCORE
My prediction: 35-10 Michigan. “The spread is 10.5 points but the score that keeps blazing unbidden into my brain is 35-10,” I said. “So that’s what I’m going with, half because you should trust your badger-hating instincts and half because it seems as good a prediction as any.”
Actual score: 14-7 Michigan. I suffered. You suffered. We all suffered. My prediction, especially, suffered; I was off by a whopping 24 points. On a regular grading scale, that’s a C. On my highly scientific football-score-prediction scale, it’s a negative P.
In cheese terms, it’s one slice of Kraft American.
Look, even classifying this thing as cheese is sacrilegious. It’s a flimsy pasteurized processed sort-of-cheese-like substance that is really made only to be melted, which makes it the only thing in the cheese world that I can in good conscience liken to my stupid pre-game score prediction. I was wrong. This slice of food is wrong. They are both wrong. Just very, very, wrong.
Wisconsin’s mascot is Bucky Badger. From memory (thanks, Wisconsin public school system!), I can tell you that the badger is the state animal and the university’s mascot because the people who first settled there in the early 1800s had no shelter, so they burrowed into the hills like mean ol’ badgers. The nation’s first squatters, you might say. A glorious legacy, indeed.
In cartoon form, Bucky (full name: Buckingham U. Badger, which I can’t hate on) looks like this.
I think he’s supposed to look intimidating, but at best, he’s grumpy (probably because it’s cold in Wisconsin and he’s wandering around in a turtleneck sweater and no pants) and at worst, he’s suffering from a minor case of Bell’s palsy and is badly in need of a pedicure.
In real life, Bucky looks like this.
Significantly less intimidating than the cartoon, which is saying something. He’s smiling. He looks huggable. His head is preposterously flat. He’s got baggy fur pants that are tucked into his high-tops, which are OK, I guess. Basically, he’s this tub of cheddar popcorn.
Partly because Bucky looks vaguely like a skunk shoved into that striped popcorn bucket, and partly because he and cheese popcorn inspire similar feelings in my soul. I don’t feel one way or the other about either thing until they’re in front of me, at which point my thought process is basically, “Whatever, I guess that’s fine.” They’re both inoffensive. They’ll do in a pinch. And they each have one super-flat end.
SAD THING OF THE WEEK
LET’S TALK ABOUT OUR KICKING GAME! It will not take long, on account of there was no kicking game! Three missed field goals, y’all! After the second one, I started experiencing vivid flashbacks to sadder football times. They looked a lot like this.
On the cheese scale, the kicking game is a big ol’ brick of room-temperature Velveeta.
I DON’T REALLY KNOW WHAT IT IS BUT IT IS NOT WHAT IT CLAIMS TO BE AND YOU SHOULD APPROACH IT WITH CAUTION OR NOT AT ALL.
HAPPY THING OF THE WEEK
The defense doesn’t suck.
The defense is delicious, delicious queso.
The really good, salty, melty kind you can only find at hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurants. It’s rare, it’s hard to perfect, but when you find it, it’s like getting your hands on liquid gold.
ON DECK: RUTGERS
Rutgers is a Babybel cheese wheel. The one in the red wax.
It’s in the fridge because you went grocery shopping when you were hungry so everything looked good, but you haven’t eaten any of it because it’s small and soft and inconsequential and once you’re done with it you have to figure out what to do with those sad little red scraps.
To be honest, I’m not sure there’s ever been a more accurate metaphor for Rutgers football.