Connecticut Links: Preview, The Podcast, FFFF Offense (chart), FFFF Defense (chart)

Something's been missing from Michigan gamedays since the free programs ceased being economically viable: scientific gameday predictions that are not at all preordained by the strictures of a column in which one writer takes a positive tack and the other a negative one… something like Punt-Counterpunt.

PUNT

By Bryan MacKenzie
@Bry_Mac

I am officially a Gundy old; I’m writing this on my 40^th birthday.

I have been preparing for this day for a while now. Not actively preparing, mind you, as I’m not especially concerned about being 40. But I have been ramping up my old man-ness in recent months. Earlier this summer I returned a push lawn mower to the store because I “didn’t like the way it handled.” Two weeks ago I pulled a calf muscle while jogging. The gray hairs in my beard and temples have gone from “occasional glitch” to “please stop calling me ‘distinguished’.”

I can also feel my Old Man Rant powers increasing. You know those random debates you have in your head with imaginary people over arguments that haven’t actually been made? Like where you talk your way out of an unfair traffic ticket despite not actually being pulled over? I’ve been winning those arguments with more frequency lately, and with a Sorkin-esque flourish. I am bringing my seasoned wisdom to bear on the youths. I can feel it.

And now, as my first formal outburst as an Old, I hereby make the following demand:

Cheer for Cade McNamara you fools.

Barron

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Yes, yes, I know. It wasn’t you. You were cheering politely and respectfully. Or you weren’t booing HIM, you just really really really like JJ McCarthy. Or you were saying “BooooocNamara.” Fine. Whatever. This is a judgment-free zone. I’m not here to chastise you.

/remembers the number of laps around the sun I have completed.

Oh. That’s right. I AM here to chastise you. You have trod upon my lawn. You will kindly remove yourselves.

Forget for a second that you’re booing a Michigan player, something I don’t recall EVER happening at Michigan; we’ve heard boos for playcalling and for punting from plus territory and for clock management and for overall team malaise, but never a specific player. Set aside the stupidity of doing that when the biggest quarterback recruit on your board is in the crowd. Forget that you are booing a guy who is one turned ankle or alien abduction away from being your starting quarterback.

Think about the specific person you are booing.

• Cade McNamara is a big part of the reason Jim Harbaugh is currently Michigan’s head coach. In November of 2020, Michigan was trailing 17-0 to Rutgers ⁠— RUTGERS ⁠— when he entered the game and led Michigan to a win. If Michigan loses that game, they finish 1-5 and on a 5 game losing streak, and there’s a good chance Harbaugh gets fired.
• He threw for nearly 8 yards per attempt and 15 touchdowns against 6 interceptions last year. He threw for 383 yards against Michigan State. He was the only quarterback in the country to throw 3 touchdown passes against Penn State. He completed 68% of his passes and threw for 8.4 yards per attempt against Ohio State in the snow.
• He was the first quarterback to beat Ohio State since 1873. He led Michigan to its first Big Ten title since the invention of the number twelve. He led Michigan to a playoff berth, though unfortunately Michigan became trapped in a mine shaft and that playoff game never took place.
• He went toe-to-toe with a fully armed and operational JJ McCarthy for the entirety of fall camp to the point where Jim Harbaugh, one of the fifty-ish most knowledgeable quarterbacking knowers in the world, decided the competition needed to continue into the season, and his teammates, having ALSO seen a fully armed and operational JJ McCarthy through the entirety of fall camp, voted McNamara a team captain.

I try not to tell people how to be a “good fan.” I am not the arbiter of such things, and am notoriously a sarcastic asshole in enough ways that I can’t start calling out kettles for their hue. But holy shit, folks.

Barron

College sports are different than pro sports. In pro sports, we’re used to players aging out and getting passed by younger, stronger, faster players. We’re aware of the effects of age and impact on the human body. Any time football players reach my age, they are either (a) retired, (b) kickers, or (c) human marvels.

In college sports, we don’t get those natural, graceful, Circle Of Life career arcs. We’re used to two specific trajectories: the Success and the Letdown. There are players who rise to the ranks of those who are remembered as heroes and who depart as such, and there are players who don’t get there. We got those arcs with Aidan Hutchinson and Hassan Haskins. They were the legends who led Michigan to victory and glory, and who rode off into the sunset of the NFL draft and immortality in the minds of Michigan fans.

Cade McNamara doesn’t get that. He doesn’t even get the gentle ignominy of progressively reduced playing time like you might see from a wide receiver or a left winger or a shooting guard. There is only one ball, and QB1 gets that ball. And at this point, there’s not much question about the identity of QB1. So Cade is left conspicuously on the sidelines. And he knows you probably want him there. He just doesn’t deserve to have to hear it directly from you to his face.

What he does deserve ⁠— and what I am confident he will receive ⁠— is a show of appreciation. The little civil war is over. There is no #TeamJJ and #TeamCade. You are no longer expressing your feelings about a depth chart. You’re speaking about a person, and one who is objectively a hero of Michigan football. McNamara will play today, because UConn is terrible and Michigan will by up by many many points. And when he does, he deserves the longest, loudest sustained applause you can muster. Make it impossible for them to get a snap off. Make Michigan take a timeout or a delay of game because they can’t hear the calls at the line.

And then feel free to boo the team’s poor clock management and organization. Hell, we’re only human. Michigan 61, UConn 13

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COUNTERPUNT

By Internet Raj
@internetraj

Getting the USB stick in right-side-up on your first try.

Crossing off the final item on your to-do list.

Peeling off the protective plastic film from brand-new electronics.

Getting a last minute upgrade on a flight.

Wearing brand new socks for the very first time.

Ordering orange chicken at Panda Express precisely as they restock the tray with a fresh batch.

Cancelling plans for anything with anyone for any reason.

Finishing a Counterpunt column with exactly 8 minutes to spare before Seth chases you.

Having an honest-to-God superstar quarterbacking your favorite team.

These are all pleasures of life that, to varying degrees, feel fucking awesome. But as a lifelong fan of the Michigan Wolverines in his mid-30s, I’ve never really gotten to bask in the glory of that last item. Sometimes I’ll indulge myself in fantasizing what it’s like to be a fan of a team like the Kansas City Chiefs, knowing that with someone like Patrick Mahomes at the helm, no deficit is insurmountable, no throw is impossible and the only question about championships is “how many?”

Sure, Tom Brady ascended to a never-before-seen astral plane of otherworldly talent in the NFL, but he was merely a “great” college football quarterback. John Navarre and Chad Henne were solid, albeit vanilla, field generals that completed a lot of passes, won a lot of games and will always be remembered fondly in Wolverine lore—but they never elevated their level of play to “stardom.” Denard Robinson was a meteoric flashpoint in the timeline of recent Michigan QBs, but his passing prowess was as pedestrian (with no thanks to Al Borges) as his running game was dazzling. I don’t need to recount the parade of Jim Harbaugh’s quarterbacks at Michigan, ranging from exceptionally solid (Jake Rudock) to frustratingly erratic (John O’Korn) to “does he know what planet he’s on?” (Joe Milton) with tons of unrealized potential in between (Dylan McCaffrey and Shea Patterson).

But no superstar. The type of player that can compensate for roster shortcomings and lead you to a Big Championships and a credible shot at a national championship. The type of player that is a wire-to-wire fixture in the Heisman conversation and at the tip of Todd McShay’s tongue in the offseason. The type of player that can seemingly be fabricated at will at some clandestine factory in Columbus, Ohio. The type of player that can effortlessly pick apart defenses with a dazzling array frozen-rope darts and high-arcing deep balls that nestle so perfectly into a sprinting receiver’s hands they have to do little more than gently squeeze their palms together to complete the catch.

Ohio State’s extra stock of 5-star Heisman finalist Quarterbacks

When it comes to Michigan football, I’ve tried to tell myself over and over not to get too excited. Not to get enthralled by the tantalizing tonic of optimism. Not to extrapolate small sample sizes into delusions of grandeur. I try to remind myself of how many times I’ve been mercilessly shoved off the ledge of high expectations. I try to remind myself of follies of my past: I was once so sure that Mike McMahon would lead the Lions to the Super Bowl and that should tell you everything you need to know about my talent evaluation skills.

But, throwing caution and logic to the damn wind, I think I saw that player last Saturday. A superstar. The haters and losers—most notably the resident chuckleheads on our rival teams’ message boards—will chortle in disbelief and condescendingly retort with one word: “Hawai'i.” Sure, opponent quality should factor into evaluating JJ McCarthy’s play. But the throws he made, the flashes he showed, the impact he left all demonstrated a level of potential I have never seen before in a QB donning the maize and blue.

The stats speak for themselves—11-of-12 passing for 229 yards and 3 touchdowns—but that was not what had my eyes popping and jaw hanging open like Doc Rivers smashing the Twitter “like” button when he thought he was logged into his burner. It was the intangibles that aren’t always measurable but are immutably and immediately palpable. The spiral, the zip, the placement. Throwing with composure in the pocket. Throwing off platform in a collapsing pocket. Making the right read. Darting decisively through running lanes on the ground. Bending the laws of physics to rocket a pass to Cornelius Johnson in the corner of the endzone.

 

I’ve been waiting 30 years to say this, but I think we got one. Will this proclamation blow up spectacularly on my face (*Doc Rivers likes this sentence*)? If history is any guide, probably. But the thing about historical trends is that they are made to be broken. The only question is when—and the good news is, it definitely won’t be this week.

Michigan 52 UConn 3