It’s temporary, I promise, but my level of give-a-shit about following sports is at an all-time low. Don’t get me wrong, as I write this I have college football on the television a few feet to my left. And for the last few months I’ve dabbled in online, now-legal sports betting for the heck of it – putting small wagers on baseball, hockey, basketball, golf, a soccer game, and most recently, college football. (I won $43 when Ohio State covered yesterday, so there’s that.) Because some habits are hard to break, I will still carve out time to watch the beloved Bears every week, manage two fantasy football teams, read the sports section, and generally try to maintain my sports literacy.
So yeah … I still care a little bit, and I still watch to a point. But there is no doubt that the tumult and gravity of 2020 has occupied a lot more of my brain space than is the norm, and my attention to sports has ebbed. Maybe that’s a sign of personal growth and appropriate redistribution of attention from subjects that don’t matter a whole lot, at the end of the day, to subjects that are critically important – like dealing with a pandemic, widespread social unrest, elections, and the new Borat movie, to name a few.
But this past Friday night, I was ready for some sports immersion. All week, I looked forward to watching the Illinois-Wisconsin football game – the kick-off to a delayed, truncated Big Ten season. I am a die-hard Illinois fan across all sports. It’s my alma mater, and that’s reason enough for me to care about the Fighting Illini. Rationally, no person would invest the time and energy I have invested following the Illinois football team over the last 40 years or so. During that period, Illinois football has been … well, mostly awful. Two Rose Bowl appearances (both losses), irregular and mostly forgettable appearances in other bowl games, and memorable upset wins approximately once a decade – that’s about all I have to show for four decades of devotion to the Illini.
But that’s okay. From time to time I’ve asked, why do you do this to yourself? At times it does feel that I’m stuck in an abusive relationship of sorts. But the short answer is this, I went to school there – that’s my team. So I’ll pay attention and root for the Illini forever – it’s just part of what I do and who I am.
Leading up to Friday night, I was optimistic. At the start of every season for any team I care about, I tend to be an optimist. Illinois had a four-game Big Ten winning streak last year, upset a Wisconsin team then ranked in the Top 10, and made its first bowl game game in Lovie Smith’s four years as head coach. This year, it returns a fairly experienced team, a senior quarterback, and has added some reinforcements through the NCAA’s transfer portal. I noted early in the week that Illinois was a 23.5-point underdog. What? That’s outrageous! No respect! – such were the wailings of the fan base. For my part, I eagerly awaited confirmation that he Fighting Lovies had turned the corner, and could compete with the Big Boy Badgers.
Well, I made it for 43 minutes of action. With about two minutes left in the third quarter of what eventually would be a 45-7 Wisconsin win, I quietly turned off the television in one room of my house, walked a few steps, and joined my wife in watching an episode of Season 2 of The Handmaid’s Tale, an “American dystopian tragedy television series” premised on the chilling aftermath of a Second American Civil War.
One lesson learned (again): Never question the line. Vegas knows. And Illinois was awful. It is too upsetting to re-hash all of the details here, so I’ll hit some highlights. On the second play from scrimmage, Illinois’ tailback fumbled. Wisconsin’s quarterback, starting his first college game, completed 20 or 21 passes. (And the one incompletion was a drop.) Illinois’ defensive backs apparently took admonitions about social distancing very, very seriously, because they seemingly were never within six yards – let alone six feet – of a Badger receiver all night. Process this: Illinois successfully defended zero of the passes thrown by Wisconsin’s starting quarterback all night. Zero. The Badgers’ QB is good – probably Wisconsin’s most-heralded quarterback recruit ever. I knew that before the game. But never in a million years did he or I imagine that his first outing would be the equivalent of a seven-on-zero walkthrough.
Oh, and Illinois’ best linebacker made a great play to stop Wisconsin short of the line to gain on 4th-and-1 when the game was still a contest – only to be concussed and knocked out the game in the process. He wobbled to the sideline being held up by trainers as the head linesman added about a half-yard in Wisconsin’s favor to the spot of the ball, giving the Badgers a new set of downs. The Illinois coaches decided a potentially game-altering play was insufficiently important to throw the coach’s challenge flag to have the play reviewed. That’s what happens to the Illini. Always. But Wisconsin didn’t need officiating help Friday night; the Badgers won by 38.
The Illini dropped passes, missed tackles, and committed costly penalties. The players played poorly, the coaches coached poorly. It wouldn’t surprise me if the trainers taped ankles poorly. This game was a train wreck. And even Illinois’ one touchdown was almost accidental. A Badger receiver fumbled, and the ball laid on the ground surrounded by Illini, several of whom grabbed and pawed at the ball but could not corral it. Serendipitously, another Illini who was late to the party snatched the ball and sauntered into the end zone. A brief glimmer of hope, the lead narrowed to seven points. By halftime it was 28-7. Curtains.
Basically, the 43 minutes of Illinois football I could bear to watch Friday night was a microcosm of 2020. A complete and utter disaster. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. In a span of about two hours, my optimism about 2020 and my hope that the momentum of 2019 would carry into this season was basically erased. Illinois football did not provide a respite, as I’d hoped. It simply piled on the angst and despair. We’re back to wondering not whether the team takes another step forward, but who’d be available if the Lovie Experience ends.
It says something that I was driven to take refuge in The Handmaid’s Tale. If you haven’t watched it yet and are a little on edge about America in 2020, don’t watch. It’s dark. It’s depressing. It depicts as real what should be unimaginable. Why do I watch? Essentially, because I started, and now I’m invested, and I have some interest in seeing how the story evolves. And the series is brilliantly acted and produced. It’s just not a light, feel-good 45 minutes. Ever.
So, my night went from the light (Big Ten football’s back, baby!) to the dark (oh no, could we be awful again?) to the darker (the seemingly hopeless plight of the main character in The Handmaid’s Tale). Not the night I’d envisioned, to be sure.
But the sun rose on Saturday. I woke up, walked the dog and went to the Village Hall and voted. That felt good. A step back toward normalcy, I hope. As is sometimes the case when a team I follow loses horribly, I consciously avoid the next day post mortem. My team lost and is 0-1. We move on, life goes on.
And there’s always the next game. Purdue is traveling to Champaign next Saturday for an 11 a.m. kickoff. I’ll watch. For better or worse.