I'VE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH OF YOU SONNY
There's a press conference at three where Alan Branch will announce his intentions in re: NFL draft. Since he ain't enrolled, it doesn't look good. But official word will go here as soon as there is one.
Update: ESPN says he gone. Not a surprise.
Michael Williams, a moderately shirtless -- call it a tank top -- CB/S from St. Bonaventure, California, committed to Michigan at the Army All-American game this weekend sometime between Ryan Mallett schooling fools and Ryan Mallett throwing perfect-but-dropped touchdown passes to wide receivers totally unprepared for his glory. This is good for Michigan, which needs dudes in the secondary and how, but slightly difficult for your blogger, who for Google-related reasons prefers outlandish names like "Zoltan Mesko" or "K'len Morris" that don't turn up accountants, fifth graders, and CEOs.
Nevertheless, sifting provides the following information: Williams was quickly down to Michigan and Notre Dame, and though the occasional California school (or, oddly, Northwestern) would pop up in a list from time to time it was a battle between midwest heavyweights who cower at bowl games the whole way. Michigan won, obviously.
Williams is either 5'10" or 5'11" or 6'0", depending on who you believe and, as mentioned earlier on MGoBlog, is being recruited as a "nickelback," which is the odd corner-safety hybrid Michigan deployed Brandon Harrison and Ryan Mundy in for much of the year. A report from September on the USC Scout site:
St. Bonaventure â€“ I was pretty impressed with Michael Williams. He was very active from the safety spot, he came up and hit people and he was also dynamic on special teams. I had heard reports that he might be smaller than advertised but I thought he looked around 6-0, 190 and that is plenty big to grow into a fine college safety.
The various sites all liked him about the same. Scout and Rivals have him a high-ish four star but not in their top 100s while ESPN ranks him #94 and breaks all my cliche alarms with the opening of their fawning scouting report ($):
This kid is a flat out football player. Williams is a safety with a linebacker menatlity [sic] versus the run and cornerback skills in pass coverage. He is dangerous with the ball in his hands and is a threat to score everytime [sic] he touches the ball... [redundancy sic]
Flat out! Football! Player! Woo. The whole thing goes on like that and you end up wondering how he got pegged the #10 safety in the country even after he defeated Godzilla in single combat. There's a full profile from the Ventura County Star:
"What makes him a great player on defense," says [St. Bonaventure head coach Jon] Mack, "first is his intelligence, and then second his speed and physicalness.
"He knows where he's supposed to be, and he gets there in a hurry, and then when he gets there, he can inflict some punishment."
It sounds like he was one of the more impressive players in the Army Bowl practices and may find his way into the tail end of top-100 lists when the sites re-order them.
In sum: very, very important pickup of a player who will see immediate playing time in the secondary next year and possibly as a returner. Board update coming probably tomorrow with a look at the recruiting stretch run.
Hockey hockey hockey. HF article on incoming recruit Ben Winnett. Relevant quotes that give you a hint about what sort of player he'll be:
"I'm a fast skating and offensive player who likes to shoot the puck but also likes to set up my teammates, and I have a bit of a physical side to me and like to play gritty and finish my checks when I can," said Winnett in describing his style of play.
Nash and Silverbacks Head Coach Ty Davidson tend to agree with his assessment and are both clearly big fans' of Winnett.
"[Ben is] a pretty good player," says Nash of his teammate. "He buries almost everything he gets, every good opportunity at the net. All I know is I have to get him the puck and he's going to put it in there".
"He's a very good player. He's got, I would say, NHL speed already," Coach Davidson said about Winnett. "He's got a good hard, quick, shot. He's a dependable guy defensively; he's not one of those one-dimensional guys. The other good asset is that he plays with an edge. He's very feisty, he's not afraid to go into the corners or to the front of the net. Very competitive, like I said, dynamic is the best way to put it. He has almost European-type speed and skill."
Ah, Canadian hockey coaches. We can compare his speed and skill with an Actual European next year, so we'll get back to him about that. (Via Yost Built.)
I realize that expecting anyone to stay ever is foolish, but I am an Oilers fan who monitors most of the more reputable blogs in the clumsily-named-but-awesome Oilogosphere and they think that the organizational plan for Andrew Cogliano is to keep him at Michigan. Snippet from Lowetide in a post on the possible signing of UND's Taylor Chorney:
It's also interesting the the Oilers have stated several times at several different levels of management that they expect Andrew Cogliano to stay in college for the full 4 years.
Take that FWIW; I've heard from other guys close to the program that they expect him to bolt. But the Oilers are notoriously penny-pinching and don't even have an AHL team of their own. If Lowetide asserts that the Oilers organization isn't likely to press for a signing we may just be able to keep the tiny fast dude another year or two.
Andrew Ebbett is doing very well in the AHL and has an article about him up at NHL.com. Thrilling DMV story incuded. David Moss, long underrated IMO, has gotten a callup to the Flames and dumped in dirty crease goals in his first three games.
Interesting article in the Toronto Star about the three collegians on the Canadian WJC team, one of whom is obviously Cogliano. Favorite part to rub in the noses of LOL NCAA partisans of the CHL:
[Canadian WJC coach Craig] Hartsburg, who is the coach and part-owner of the Sault Ste. Marie Greyhounds of the OHL, said all three collegians "would develop in the Canadian Hockey League. They're good players. It doesn't matter where they play."
...which is what NCAA fans have been saying for years to irritating Canadian preteens on hockey prospect message boards. Hypothetically.
Yes, there's a game Tuesday, which is tomorrow. Don't forget.
I am not one for the proverbial horn and the tooting and the LAVEN. But the NYT deployed "Cheatypants Sweatervest" -- properly omitting the superflous "Mc" though oddly double-capped -- in an article that gets as close as New York Times will ever get to mentioning what some refer to as Tressel's "creepy child molester vibe."* Relevant passage:
Yet Tressel also has detractors who dispute the authenticity of his image, mock him on Internet message boards as CheatyPants SweaterVest and note that he has been touched by scandal both at Ohio State and Youngstown State, where he previously won four Division I-AA national championships.
Cheatypants Sweatervest had its origin here, then gained popular cachet when it was frequently deployed by Orson. So that's cool.
*("some" in this case == "I", but I'm trying out these cool Official Journalist tricks in an effort to strip any personal responsibility out of my writing.)
We've got suggestions. Apparently a bunch of Time, Inc., magazines are going to cut dead weight:
CUTBACKS, 2007, now playing at a Time Inc. magazine near you.
The latest casualty figure is 150 people - with the ax being honed and a decision possibly due from bosses like CEO Ann Moore in the next two weeks...
People, which had largely been immune to cuts over the past year, will take its hit this time as will Sports Illustrated.
I've managed not to spend thousands of words refuting the irritating, irritating conversation Musberger/Herbstreit/Davie had about evil Michigan blogs, but others have not. Gunslingers goes point-by-point to anyone out there still wondering what a blog is. This would seem to be unnecessary for anyone, you know, on a blog, but in case Brent Musberger wanders by there it is. Click the blue underliny stuff to go to that article, Brent, which is not a "blog" but a "post." Move the little mouse thing. No, it's not a real mouse. Notice how it's cold and dead instead of wriggling away from your gras-- okay, sure I suppose it could be a dead mouse. Move the human interface devic-- no! Stop eating it. You just said you thought it was a dead mouse! Put it-- screw it. You just go on drinking in your car, Brent.
Motown Sports Revival also deconstructs the dumb.
Etc: article about Rose Bowl preparations from the News that takes you inside the team meetings and stuff. EDSBS' Not Fiesta Bowl podcast features me, but all I talk about is Ohio State so you might want to skip it.
Unfortunately, there was a game and, doubly unfortunate, I guess I have to say something about it. There isn't much to analyze. Michigan lost because its offensive line got its ass handed to it by USC for the second time in four years. The game was a virtual replay of the 2004 game: USC sacks, a killer fluke turnover, a defense hanging in decently well until USC finally connects on a deep ball or four, and a fourteen point final margin.
Henne did about as well as he could. He has his limitations, but when given time to stand and throw he was just about perfect. This was rarely. I don't know if some of his hestiation was due to coverage or if his routes and progressions just took way too long for the amount of time he was getting, and there was the underthrown fluke interception on a screen pass, but the vast majority of any blame you want to dole out belongs to the offensive line.
We stupidly failed to adjust to the pressure. I know Michigan has experienced games where it couldn't block anyone (see every game last year) and found ways to creak down the field. Here, we were content running the same stretch play that worked only sporadically and making the same seven-step drops that were getting Henne killed by everyone. He didn't even have time to scramble out uselessly and flail. We threw two wide receiver screens, both of them from the same empty formation where we motion out a tight end. USC adjusted to the second predictable playcall. Slants? No. Little hitch things? No. It seems even Michigan's short routes are those Breaston drags that take forever to develop.
The defense did pretty well. Perhaps strange to say that, but the last touchdown was purely cosmetic (and a stupid way to put Michigan in a position to make it a game) and before that USC was given two short fields on pressure-forced turnovers. In a game where Michigan's offense exists, which prevents the short field and reduces the number of USC possessions, the Trojans likely score in the low 20s, which is fine.
Game theory dork. I strongly disagreed with Carroll's decision to go on fourth and two from around the 24 or 22 leading by 13 at the end of the third quarter. A field goal gets you a 16 point lead, a touchdown gives you a 19 or 21 point lead. Relevance:
- Michigan does not score two touchdowns. Irrelevant, and the most likely outcome.
- Michigan scores two touchdowns. If you had a 13 point lead, you lost. If you have a 16 point lead Michigan must follow both touchdowns with two-point conversions, then win in overtime. Approximately 45% of two-point conversions are successful; we can peg the chances of winning in OT at 50-50. .45 * .45 *. 5 = .01 = 10%. Getting a field goal turns a USC loss into 90% of a USC win in the event Michigan scores two touchdowns.
- Michigan scores three times. Here USC loses with a field goal no matter what the Michigan score is. A touchdown makes Michigan score a (third) touchdown of its own.
If you believe that Michigan scoring three times in the fourth quarter is highly improbable, then a field goal gives you 90% of the value of a touchdown there. A decision to go on fourth and two -- no gimme -- when a conversion means you still have to go 20 yards to reap a 10% benefit is incorrect. USC converted by the nose of the ball and kicked a field goal anyway. Michigan ended up scoring two touchdowns, though the second was cosmetic.
Someone should be fired. Evidently, Brent Musberger laid into "the Michigan blogs" sometime late in the game for demanding Carr's firing. I only wish I had the presumption to criticize things I don't read for things they haven't posted. I support Carr. I received emails from Michigan fans calling me a homer after posting "Litmus Lloyd." Earlier in the year I raged against the idea that Carr was "on the hotseat," a suggestion universally put forth by know-nothing Official Journalists who just write whatever the hell they want to about the Michigan fanbase without justification, because, hey, they're Official Journalists.
I think this season-ending tailspin sucks ass and think there are certain problems with the way Carr does things that are not optimal, but you can say that for all coaches, including God amongst us Pete Carroll. (Please see above.) I don't think Carr should be fired and moreover know that the chances he is fired are zero. Zero zero zero. So why bother talking about it? "Should Lloyd Carr be fired?" is as useful a question to ask is "Should Care Bear ninjas be sent to Iraq?" The answer to both these useless questions is "no."
Here is a question of some use. Should Andy Moeller be encouraged to take a job elsewhere? I don't pretend to know a tenth of what I need to know to seriously criticize the job he does as the offensive line coach, but his main qualification for the job appears to be that he's former Michigan linebacker and the son of Bo's right hand man. His bio reveals that he was the offensive line coach at Missouri for a few years, so he's not completely devoid of experience, but he's not exactly Art Kehoe either. Michigan's OL was a revolving door a year ago and in two separate Rose Bowls his lines have been overrun by Trojans.
The answer here is probably "no," too, but Michigan's coming up craps with its offensive line recruits frequently these days. Most years feature at least one "oh God, that guy's starting?" Most disturbing was Matt Lentz's performance as a senior. He regressed, the first time that's happened to a Michigan lineman in a long time.
So. I went to the Rose Parade January 1st and nothing else. All times are approximate; I may have vastly misjudged when these things actually went by.
6:00 AM. Boy, I'm glad that it's 9 AM to my internal clock, or I'd be horribly cranky.
7:45 AM. We reach the parade route and start to stroll along it. It's mobbed with people, as you might expect, but the prevalence of heavy jackets, blankets, and finally sleeping bags reveals the horrible truth: the people camped out along the road, the ones in the good seats, have been here all night. And unless my conception of the Pasadena area's demographics is wrong, the vast majority of them are inexplicably Hispanic.
7:52 AM. So you're walking down this parade route in front of people who have been dourly camped out waiting for something to watch for hours, possibly days. They watch you, and if they're USC fans they shout something like "WOOOO USC" and since it's really early in the morning and you feel silly because you thought California was much warmer at 6AM and you've spent the first hour of your day trudging from Rose Bowl to Rose Parade, your mood is black black black. The prospect of doing all this to sit down and watch a parade conjures up memories of boredoms past and generally ruins your day.
8:00 AM. People are turning and pointing and looking. I ignore the pointing and looking for a while -- I've seen parades and know how fast they travel, the chances we're being overtaken by it are zero -- until I begin to fear something coming up behind me. I turn and look where the pointing indicates.
Holy crap! It's a Stealth bomber flanked by what my brother says are new F-something Raptors. They fly over, and though military flyovers are sort of creepy indoctrination, they're also just plain badass. I feel much better. San Dimas Miltary Industrial Complex RULES!
8:10 AM. I forget that I'm wearing my Zoltan For Space Emperor Shirt, which makes the quizzical looks from cops unsettling, until a few Michigan fans along the route scream "ZOLTAN!" and give the Z signal. Ohhhhhh. That's why. We reach seats -- only 40 dollars -- and sit.
8:30 AM. Finally, parade. First up are motorcycle tricks from a set of policemen. Since it is mildly interesting, it vastly outstrips my expectations from moment one.
8:32 AM. Float. Very tall. Mother Nature. Woo.
8:33 AM. Horses.
8:36 AM. More float. Butterflies or something. I have quickly come to the conclusion that the Rose Parade isn't all bad, but I can never really love it as long as the yearly themes are things like "Our Good Nature," which spurs an incredible array of boring hummingbirds. (Some floatmakers ignore the theme: dragons and dinosaurs may technically be classified as animals, but don't really get across the intricate wonders of the natural world like a hummingbird evidently does, especially when the dinosaurs are in a rock band.) I spend much of the downtime in the next two hours thinking up kickass parade themes like "Cartoons of the 80s" and "Mythological Disembowelments." Or you can combine the two and feature things like Brainy Smurf removing Prometheus' liver over and over again.
8:40 AM. Llamas! Official Brother of MGoBlog is excited!
More floats with hummingbirds. Floats are either sponsored by corporations or various local cities. There's a vaguely parade-affiliated man with a megaphone who's exhorting us to shout "happy new year" at various personages as they roll (or horse) past us; we find him deeply irritating after a while. He's a card with all of the creaky borscht belt connotations of the term.
8:43 AM. Horses. There's a guy with a lasso that becomes very large, so that's cool.
8:45 AM. Band from Wisconsin rolls by playing something unmistakably from the Ohio State University catalog. The end of it has that little thing that goes O-HI-O. I make a mental note: "kill state of Wisconsin."
8:50 AM. Horses. They're drawing Wells-Fargo carriages; as they roll past us someone nearby exclaims "hey, that's Kareem Abdul-Jabbar!" And it is, by god! Kareem is lounging on one of the Wells-Fargo carriages, being seven feet tall. I'm astounded. This seems a horrible misallocation of celebrity. Where is the 50-foot float of Kareem dunking a rose? Where is the adulation for parade aficionado Kareem Abdul-Jabbar? Why has he been stuck on some random stagecoach and why have we not been alerted to his presence except for the efforts of one particularly eagle-eyed parade-goer?
9:15 AM. Song Girls. Hot. Mental process:
- Song Girls. Hot.
- Not a fair comparison with Michigan cheerleaders since Song Girls don't actually do anything except dance around and be hot. Cheerleaders have to do stunts and flips and stuff, which naturally narrows the pool. A fairer comparison is to the Michigan dance team.
- Song Girls. Hot.
- The Song Girls still win by a huge margin.
- Song Girls. Hot.
- ...but the presence of a superhot babe elite probably has few practical applications for anyone who's not A) rich or B) Matt Leinart or equivalent. They're just there to taunt you with their hotness.
- Song Girls. Hot.
- I'm sure one of them would find a piquant sarcasm just charming.
- Song Girls. Hot.
- The best way to make an introduction is to charge wildly from the stands, leap onto the float, and tackle one pelvis-first. Here we go!
- Song Girls. Hot.
- Dammit, I shouldn't have spent so much time thinking "Song Girls, Hot." I've missed my chance.
9:20 AM. Horrifying racism! The guy sitting next to me is an odd Michigan fan who's from Tennessee and doesn't know the fight song. He's a nice enough guy, but when an all-black marching band starts rounding into view, he evaluates the twirler vanguard, notes that they're escorted by a state trooper, and wonders aloud if they're all on parole(!!!). Um... wow. Did he...? Did I...? What just happened?
Aforementioned dinosaur float. They do indeed play The Rock Music. This is the best point to discuss the other strange Michigan fans from SEC country sitting directly behind us. One is a middle-aged woman of the sort that reads the banners as they go by, repeating everything she finds funny -- and she finds everything funny -- before deploying her unintelligent-sounding laugh.
So. She reads the banner: "humor trophy." The dinosaurs clear the building to our left and pop into view. She acknowledges the input of her eyes: "they're dinosaurs in a band." She laughs.
10:30 AM. Horses.
10:35 AM. Stormtroopers!
Except they kind of suck. They're Stormtroopers all right, and there are Empire guys blowing whistles and trying to be all task-mastery at the guys in suits who haven't left their basement since Episode III came out, but
- the marching ability of the typical Star Wars nerd hovers near zero
- they don't even have guns, let alone the ability to do sweet marine-style drills with them,
- there should not be a bank of them carrying flags from US states and various countries, and
- look... when you put a certain kind of person in a certain kind of suit and ask them to walk a lot
more than they're used to, the result can only be described as a waddle.
I do wish I had a two-year-old to whom I could give a plastic lightsaber and a push but I don't, probably because I'm the kind of person who prefers mayhem to safety when dealing with two-year-olds.
10:38 AM. Grambling State's band is up next. I cringe, anticipating more Horrible Racism from the nice enough guy to my right, but their twirler vanguard is... um... green.
So by the time it's clear that these are Not White People, the band is upon us. And no comments are made.
10:40 AM. Horses... except awesome ones. They're miniature. These are the sorts of horses I can get behind, especially when the Rose Bowl website reveals that they're called the "Petite Elite Miniature Horse Precision Drill Team," which is the best name for anything ever.
10:48 AM. There is a float with dragons.
It's fairly cool -- the dragons are animated and sort of goggle at each other -- until it stops dead in front of us. A hatch leaps open, emitting a panicked float technician who runs around to the back of the thing to fiddle with intricate float technologies for a while. Then he runs around, closes the hatch, and the float trundles off to scattered, possibly sarcastic applause.
10:51 AM. Horses. I don't get it. This parade is about 20% too long and the 20% consists entirely of horses. (We would like to stress that this 20% does NOT encompass either the Petite Elite Miniature Horse Drill Teams or llamas, which are welcome in any parade anywhere.) All they do is poop and remind me of Sarah Jessica Parker. The latter is unwelcome and the entertainment provided by the former is base. Down with horses.
10:54 AM. There is a Mexico-themed band with a flag and dancing girls and hats. The crowd goes NUTS.
11:00 AM. Boring float section. Dogs promoting various local pissant universities. A mobile Christmas tree shop. THE FLOAT OF SPACE. A float I mentally file under "Mass Hysteria":
11:15 PM. During the period of black hatred of all things, I mentally wrote this paragraph:
"Please, please, please be a high school band! YESSSSSSSSSSS!" It was! They marched! Then I thought "OMG, it would be the best of they played Stars And Stripes Forever just like the rest of the high school bands!!!" Then... then! Then. Then... through the discordant blorping and tweeting came a melody faintly reminiscent of Sousa. It was! It was Stars and Stripes forever! My mind dissolved in an explosion of ecstasy. Downed by a paroxysm of glee, I collapsed to the ground, twitching in the wonder of it all. Thank you, high school band. Thank you, John Phillips Sousa. Thank you, Rose Parade.
...so when a high school band actually finished blorping out "Stars And Stripes Forever" just as it reached us, I had a moment of ironic pleasure that didn't quite cause a twitching seizure but was nice nonetheless.
11:30 AM. Parade over. Enter the Jesus freak. I wonder if they tour around, looking for people to troll in various areas of the country. In the littered aftermath, it's clear that my imagination did not lead me astray in re: Hispanics. Discarded tortillas line the route next to "Ugly Betty" -- a show based on "La Fea Mas Bella," for anyone who caught a lot of Univision commercials during the World Cup, and heavily marketed to Hispanics -- masks that exhort the wearer to BE TRUE TO YOURSELF in 2007. I note an odd thing: businesses along the route have boarded their windows. Local ordinance? No. As we reach the hoity-toity ticketed area around the TV cameras, a Hispanic-free zone, the boarding abruptly stops. The overall impression left is one of panicked Pasadena businessmen fearing that parade-mad Latinos will riot and loot them from house and home at the first hint of a rose, funny and sad all at once.