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 think about the Trinity nuclear test sometimes.

On July 16, 1945, the members of the Manhattan Project triggered the first man-made atomic explosion. An implosion compressed a mass of plutonium until a runaway chain reaction converted one tenth of one third of one ounce of matter into energy, unleashing a firestorm the likes of which man had never witnessed. It exploded with the force of 22,000 tons of TNT. By all accounts, those who witnessed it were slack-jawed. A massive fireball rose high into the New Mexico sky as a testament both to man’s ingenuity and to nature’s awesome potential.

[After THE JUMP: Heat]

But that’s not the part I think about. I imagine the part after that. As the light died down, and the roar dimmed, and mushroom cloud drifted away, I pictureone of these brilliant physicists turning to the one next to him and asking, “sooooooo… did it work?”

Obviously it kaboomed. It kaboomed big. But, in a strange twist, it kaboomed so big that no one had anything to compare it to. These guys might be able to tell visually whether a 500 pound bomb exploded correctly, but how do you judge a 44 million pound bomb? Was it bigger than expected? Smaller? Were the blast effects what they were expected to be? It could have been an order of magnitude more or less efficient than these brilliant men expected, and their reactions would have been the same: “holy hell that’s a big kaboom.”

Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds

This is how I think about these early season blowout games. Every season brings about great uncertainty, and not just about Michigan. We start pretty close to Square One with our knowledge of Michigan’s opponents as well. And sure, we know the fizzles when we see them; if you need a goal line stand to beat Akron, back to the drawing board. When you lose to Toledo, something has gone awry. But how high should the rubble bounce against Western Michigan? Was 51-14 the proper yield against UCF?

And when you only have vague metrics against which to compare, how do we know if the kaboom was big enough against SMU?

For me, that is enough to keep the interest in a game like this for a little while, because you know the answer is at least “pretty dang big.” Get out to a 14-0 lead against a reasonable Big Ten opponent, and you can relax a little bit. Get out to a 14-0 lead against Hawaii, and you’re still on edge. Because a 14-7 lead over Hawaii equates to approximately a 37-0 deficit against Ohio State. Maybe. We don’t know.

Strangely enough, under the current rules, this isn’t targeting

Fortunately, as dust clears and the lead stretches out to 4, and then 5, and then 6, and then 7 scores, it becomes apparent that the exact yield isn’t TERRIBLY important. Sometimes “pretty dang big” is as big as an explosion needs to be.

Michigan 61, SMU 5

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Counterpunt

By Internet Raj
@internetraj

The preamble to the Punt/Counterpunt column above sets forth a single, simple rule: one column writer must take a “positive” outlook for the week’s game, and the other a “negative” one.

I was supposed to be “negative” today. And it’s not going to happen.

Generally, it’s easy to comply with the rule. Notre Dame? Penn State? Northwestern? Nebraska? Hell, even Western Michigan–one can easily adopt an optimistic or pessimistic view on each of these opponents without engaging in mental acrobatics. Every once in a while, however, an opponent comes along that is so egregiously awful it short circuits the brain. And SMU? SMU is awful.

SMU's offense is last in success rate and 124th in explosiveness, and offense is generally what Sonny Dykes coaches well. Michigan's defense is 3rd nationally in S&P+.

This is going to be ugly.

— Drew Hallett (@DrewCHallett) September 13, 2018

I tried to take a pessimistic view on this game. I really did. But this SMU team lost to the North Texas Mean Green 46-23.

(credit Eric Upchurch)

I pored through the stats. I invoked long-buried traumatic memories of past Michigan football debacles. I wrote this article while listening to Josh Groban. I even tried to find Greg Robinson’s stuffed beaver on eBay so I could rub it on my face for inspiration. I did everything I could to conjure up an image of Michigan struggling on Saturday. But there are some Takes simply too Hot for mere mortals.

And that’s when I turned to the Hot Take Gods—men who brazenly and shamelessly cast aside reason and humility in order to ascend to a higher plane of Takes—to be my muse for this Counterpunt.

I roasted him, but honestly? He could crack our left tackle two-deep.

First up, Jason Whitlock. Whether it’s dismissing Colin Kaepernick’s inspired campaign for racial and criminal justice as a “fad” or actually believing Brady Hoke would turn it around, this man lays claim to Takes so hot MSU fans use them as an excuse for why their team lost to Arizona State. How does Whitlock do it? After meticulously reviewing literally minutes of tape, I’ve concluded it’s the fedora. No man can be that nonsensical without the benefit of a fedora bombarded with cosmic rays that can open portals through space and time so its wearer can visit alternate dimensions with never-been-discovered extraterrestrial Takes.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a celestial ass fedora.

Next, there’s Stephen A. Smith. This man rants about sports on 19 different TV and radio shows on a daily basis, seemingly never tires, and has a default voice set to “human vuvuzela.” Sometimes I’ll try imagining his poor elementary school telling him to use his Six-Inch Voice only to receive a 5-minute screeching tirade about how Isaiah Thomas isn’t a top-5 NBA guard. What’s the secret to his seemingly infinitely renewable stores of energy? I’m less certain about this one, but I have a working theory that involves getting bitten by a radioactive Crab Rangoon.

 

PF Chang's waiter: "[Recites specials] Stephen A. Smith: (Acts surprised) "To me, that's preposterous. Crab Rangoon, things of that nature."

— David Roth (@david_j_roth) June 13, 2012

Unfortunately, I don’t have a radioactive Crab Rangoon.

Third, there’s Skip Bayless. Skip is an absolute savage – a man so infected with a viral strain of Hot Takery, that there’s nothing I could possibly learn from him for the purposes of this column. The guy is like Buffalo Bill, except that his captive victim is LeBron James Jr. and he wears old peeled skin sheddings of Jerry Jones.

Unfortunately, I am not a sadist with a skin suit. I just don’t have what it takes to be negative this week.

Michigan #DIV/0!, SMU -14