TCU Links: Preview, The Podcast, FFFF Offense (chart), FFFF Defense (chart). Neck Sharpies on that defense. If you're in or around Ann Arbor, the Game Watch party's at Venue.

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 love procrastinating.

To be clear, I hate being a procrastinator. I live with a perpetual pit in my stomach that says, “remember that thing you were supposed to do? You didn’t do it yet.” That feeling is there even when I’m not behind on something; my nervous system just operates under a presumption of guilt.

But despite that, I apparently love procrastinating. Because I’ve been doing it for most of my life. I crave the little burst of serotonin my body releases when I manage to convince myself that I can put a task off until later. It’s why I start my Christmas shopping on about December 18th every year, around the same time I start my 15 hours of annual Continuing Legal Education hours. It’s why I spent many a 3:00 a.m. in my college days writing the essay equivalent of the Libya is a Land of Contrasts presentation.

Many people look down on procrastination as an example of weakness, indecisiveness, or a lack of willpower. But, in reality, procrastination is an evolutionary adaptation passed down from our ancestors. There was a time when the goals of our society were less “don’t piss off Greta in accounting by filing my TPS reports late” and more “don’t get eaten by the large creature.” And in that context, not being the first to leave the cave was strongly correlated with surviving to pass on our genes.

[After THE JUMP: Napping.]

So forgive me if I err on the side of obeying my limbic system, which has kept me and my ancestors alive for hundreds of thousands of years, over my prefrontal cortex, which is a Johnny-come-lately that would have gotten us clubbed to death by the neighboring clan in the first three days. The early bird gets the worm, but the second person to eat the purple berries has significantly better chance of survival.

With that context, it should come as no surprise that sports, the purest embodiment of our societal lizard brain, provide fertile ground for procrastination as virtue, rather than vice. While the first quarter is worth exactly as much as the fourth quarter, we judge the ability, moxie, and toughness of an athlete or a team on how they close games out. Players make entire reputations on their ability to lead game-winning drives or hit buzzer beaters or win postseason games. “September Heisman” is a pejorative, even though it literally means “the best player in the country for the first 30% of the season.”

This isn’t just feelingsball stuff. There is value in keeping things controlled in the early parts of a game, allowing the opponent to show his hand and exert all the energy, and then pulling away late. Boxers do it. Cyclists do it. Distance runners do it. And 2022 Michigan Football does it.

Michigan outscored their opponents by an average of 3.8 points per game in the first halves of their ten Big Ten games, and by 16 points in the second half. They surrendered a TOTAL of 57 second-half points in those ten games. Michigan fans came to greet the weekly closer-than-expected halftime score with a shoulder-shrug and an unironic, “eh, this is fine.” Michigan has come to control the style of play in every game this year, with that style being “you’ve gotta dance with us for four quarters, and we’re willing bet you won’t want to.”

There is one other team in College Football that seems as comfortable as Michigan in the fourth quarter: Texas Christian University. But whereas Michigan’s style is a planned, measured, purposeful approach, TCU’s is much more like the procrastination I am familiar with from my youth and my young adulthood and my regular adulthood and my now. They know how long the game is supposed to be, but they figure they’ve got plenty of time so there’s no need to OH CRAP it’s the third quarter and we’re down by multiple scores it’s time to get started on this. They have trailed by multiple scores on several occasions. Eight of their last nine games were one-score games late in the fourth quarter.

TCU has grown comfortable with this chaos. They have unknowingly been preparing themselves for this matchup every week for the last two months. And if they are inadvertently immune to Michigan trying to crush their souls, Michigan’s biggest advantage goes out the window.

I would go deeper into this theory, but I’m SUPER behind on getting this piece done, and Seth needed to get it posted ASAP.

TCU 37, Michigan 35

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COUNTERPUNT

By Internet Raj
@internetraj

I love my son. I really do. He’s turning 3 in a couple months and he’s at that age where he’s a fully-formed bubbly, swirling tornado of curiosity, cuteness, and chaos. Our time together has evolved from the monotony of one-way babble to joyously interactive play as his speech and communication skills continuously improve. Day by day, I can see bits and pieces of his personality taking shape – whether it’s his insatiable curiosity about the moon (“Daddy why can’t I reach it?”) or the ever-sharpening nature of his wit (“Spinach tastes like poo poo”, punctuated by 5 minutes of uninterrupted laughter at his own joke).

Of course, I love my son. I really, genuinely do. But damn, can he be tiring. Keeping up with our jointly concocted and increasingly complex imaginary games, coming up with off-the-cuff answers about the moon that I’m sure would make Neil deGrasse Tyson issue a huffy 92-tweet rebuke, and generally matching a toddler’s frenetic pace is one of the most mentally and physically taxing endeavors known to man. And that’s why, even though I truly love my son, I also love his afternoon nap.

Every day I indiscriminately spray prayers across several religions’ worth of gods to say thanks that he has yet to drop his daily afternoon nap, a post-lunch 2.5-hour serene oasis of parental relaxation. It’s when I can collapse on the sofa and curl up with a great book. It’s when I can order in takeout lunch with my wife and binge watch a TV show we are woefully behind on. It’s when I can take a lazy 30-minute poop while scrolling Twitter. It’s that time when I can take a 2.5-hour nap myself! The possibilities are, truly, joyously, endless.

But, obviously, this luxurious respite from the toil of pre-K guardianship is time-bound. Hanging over this daily, leisurely break is the inevitability of the End of the Nap, which is generally accentuated by some sort of jarring assault to the eardrums – a high-pitched wails from a bad dream, a frenzied shriek of excitement, or some other nonsensical delirious exclamation. And then, it’s back to the grind, however rewarding it is.

Society if all toddlers took regular, consistent daily naps.

As a fan, Michigan’s 13-0 season has been the ultimate toddler nap. A gloriously cathartic break from the real world. The perfect distraction from the world’s troubles, whether it’s an economic recession, global geopolitical instability, or the basketball team losing as a 20-point favorite to a directional in-state college that isn't even a direction.

But like the toddler stirring and stretching in the twilight moments of their afternoon nap, the Wolverines’ season is coming to an inescapable end, be it today or in 10 days, be it in catastrophic disappointment, begrudging acceptance, or euphoric victory. And then we’ll be forced to reckon with the demons around us. The 401k that’s down 77% YTD. Whether Juwan Howard is truly the long-term answer at Michigan. The ennui attendant with not having college football broadcasts being the background soundtrack to my Saturdays or any college football podcasts pumping through my headphones during the week.

All of my troubles during Michigan football season

TCU is not the main course. The Horned Frogs are appetizers. An amuse-bouche to casually graze on before the steak dinner of Georgia or the thermonuclear apocalypse that would be a rematch with OSU. Sure, they have a gamer at QB and some stud wide receivers, but beyond that, all I see is a flimsy defense, cool uniforms and a neat team name. I’m confident Michigan wins, but like the foreboding ruffling of the blankets on the grainy night-vision of my baby cam, I am hit with the reality that we’re fast approaching the end of the season one way or another. Let’s just hope it’s not for another 10 days. Because the last thing I need to hear today is a premature shriek from the bedroom followed by a “I did a pee pee!”

Michigan 41 TCU 24