Starting 11: Every Game Counts, Except Some Count More Than Others

One of the most frustrating cliches trotted out by college football's BCS defenders is this banal line: Every game counts. I hate this three-word cliche with the fury of a thousand blazing suns. I hate the smugness with which it's delivered, I hate the fact that no one points out the obvious -- name a sport where the games don't actually count-- but I hate the fact that it isn't even true the most.

In fact, this phrase is positively Orwellian because it leaves off the final part of the sentence. Every game counts ... except some games count more than others. How else to explain the fact that everyone can brush off Boise State's win over Oregon because it happened the first game of the season?

I understand we're dealing with a broken system, but right now Boise State is continuing to plummet as they win. I wrote about the glass ceiling that Boise had reached a couple of weeks ago, but has it really reached the point where we just ignore the first week of the season?

And if we do ignore the first week of the season, what's the point of having a broken system to determine who the champion is? Because pretty soon, if they keep winning, Oregon is going to pass undefeated Boise in the BCS rankings. Already Iowa, Cincinnati, one-loss USC, and TCU have all passed Boise since the first BCS standings were released three weeks ago. What's Boise done since that first week's release when they stood at No. 4 in the country?

Beaten two teams by a combined score of 99-16.

I'm not arguing that individual results should always govern the rankings between two teams. But I am arguing this, if the regular season means anything at all, you have to rank an undefeated team above any team that they've beaten.

Absolutely, positively, have to do that.

On to the Starting 11.

1. The fact that Tennessee was going to wear black jerseys on Halloween was one of the worst kept secrets in the history of the Internets.

For months, fans, media, and everyone else who cares about what color jerseys a team wears (count myself outside of this group) have gone crazy with speculation. Tennessee's athletic director, head coach, and everyone else associated with the program shot down the possibility that the Vols would wear black for months.

Then they did.

Raising this question, is it really worth lying about the color of a jersey? Why not just say: "We don't comment on jersey colors," months ago and leave it at that?

I know that UT claims the decision wasn't made until the week of the game, and while that might be true in a legal sense, it had been under contemplation for months judging by all the smoke surrounding the issue. I truly don't care what jerseys my team wears, but was the "surprise" really worth it?

I don't think so.

2. By the way, if Oregon hadn't played Boise State in the first game of the season, where are they ranked right now?

Probably fourth, right?

One of the really sad things about the current system is that Boise can't get teams to play them home-and-home for this exact reason, play a patsy at your place and you get a guaranteed win and don't deal with any long-term injury to your reputation. Play a tough team on the road and you sabotage your season if you lose.

Boise gets ripped because they haven't scheduled well enough. Well, isn't a tremendous part of that because they need to play enough home games to make some revenue for their school and because most teams are afraid to play them in Boise?

They're already playing six road games this season. That leaves them with just six home games. Most other major college teams in America are playing 7 homes games, often 8.

This is the system we've created, good teams from major conferences won't play other good teams because they don't need to and then when they won't play a smaller school we criticize the team they won't play for not having a tough enough schedule.

Awesome.

Doesn't anyone see that logical flaw?

3. Isn't it time we penalize college football players for malicious intent rather than malicious success?

Brandon Spikes tried to eye gouge Georgia's Washaun Ealey on Saturday. Urban Meyer, who doles out good ole boy justice with the best of them despite not actually being Southern, suspended Spikes for a half.

Against Vanderbilt.

Florida could probably start me at middle linebacker for a half and still beat Vanderbilt.

That's not even a joke, I really think they could.

But one of the most interesting things about this entire situation is that we're suspending Spikes because he was unsuccessful at what he attempted to do. In other words, Spikes's own incompetence as an eye-gouger actually saved him from a more severe penalty. Shouldn't we penalize a player based on intent rather than the actual result? Especially in sports since part of the reason for the punishment is to dissuade others who see the punishment.

4. Case Keenum, who may win the Heisman by default, threw for 559 yards against Southern Miss on Saturday.

On 54 pass attempts. He wasn't sacked.

Not once.

What's more, Keenum has attempted 398 passes so far this season and has only been sacked 10 times. Counting the sacks Keenum has dropped back to pass 408 times, probably more since he's scrambled for yardage several times, but only 10 times have defenses managed to sack him.

That means almost 98 percent of the time when he drops back to pass, the ball is leaving his hand before a defender gets to him. Can you imagine how debilitating that is to a defensive line? To know that, on average, if you rush the quarterback on 50 consecutive plays you're going to get to him once?

How mentally tiring must that be?

I've read quite a bit of praise for Keenum so far this season, but I haven't read anything about Houston's offensive line and the job they've done allowing Keenum to attempt so many passes. Kudos to them.

5. Iowa's magical season continues and soon they'll be in the clubhouse at 12-0 with two weeks of football remaining.

I haven't seen anyone write about what a tremendous advantage it is for Big Ten schools that they don't play games the final two weeks of the regular season. Iowa is now 9-0. They have two home games against Northwestern and Minnesota sandwiched around a road game at Ohio State. Assuming they win all three, the Hawkeyes get to sit and watch undefeated Texas, Alabama, Cincinnati and Florida deal with the mounting pressures of the season.

For half a month, they do nothing and can only be helped by the games that take place around them.

I know the long layoff has been mentioned before in terms of a Big Ten team's performance in bowl games, and the lack of a championship game is often trotted out as evidence of a hugely uneven playing field, but I haven't seen anything written about the tremendous advantage that comes from sitting out the final two weeks of the season.

It's worth thinking about as the pressure mounts to see who will be playing in the title game.

6. Random observation from the Jacksonville Airport: They have an entrance for a seeing eye dog at the security screening area with a sign above indicating such. It's next to the wheelchair entrance.

Multiple questions: A.) Whom is this sign for? Presumably the blind person can't see it, right? I'm no expert on canines, but I don't think they can recognize the sign either. B.) How many blind people with seeing eye dogs are traveling such that they need their own line? For instance, have you ever seen a blind person with a seeing eye dog at the airport before? C.) Wouldn't anyone with a brain naturally assume that the blind person with a dog doesn't have to walk through the regular line? In other words, who is doubting that they go through the handicapped line? D.) Where do the seeing eye dogs go on flights? Do you check them at the gate like a stroller? Are you automatically in the A boarding group at Southwest? If the dog is on the plane, where does he sit?

Anyway, this is the most unnecessary sign I've sign since the White House prohibited weapons' list featured guns, knives and nunchucks. Because, you know, who hasn't planned a trip to the White House and brought along a set of nunchucks in case of a ninja attack.

7. Why did Wake Forest let their kicker attempt a 60-yard field goal to end the game against Miami?

Setting the scene: Wake is down 28-27, there are four seconds remaining, and the Demon Deacons are at the Hurricanes' 43.

Your kicker, Jimmy Newman, has a career long field goal of 42 yards. (Sam Swank, Wake Forest's longtime strong-legged kicker, graduated after last season.)

What do you do?

Not kick, right?

Seeing as how this is 18 yards further than the kicker's career long.

Well, Wake kicks.

Predictably the kick was is wide right and short by about 15 yards. It lands in the front of the end zone. Does this really make sense? It's kind of embarrassing, actually. Wouldn't you have better odds of a Hail Mary here?

Granted, Wake Forest was playing with its backup quarterback at the time, Ryan McManus, instead of usual starter Riley Skinner, who left the game after taking a knee to his un-helmeted head on a fourth-quarter run. McManus, a senior, had two strikes against him entering the game. 1) He had more tackles in his career (two, on punt coverage in 2007) entering the game than pass completions (one). 2) The highlights of his online bio including calling a "key timeout" against Baylor and that he "loves to play." What exactly gets cut so that these factoids might make the biography? He enjoys both inhaling, exhaling and wearing socks?

At any rate, even with McManus why wouldn't you at least take a chance your quarterback could throw it 43 yards or at least try some sort of hook-and-ladder or series of laterals?

Instead you humiliate your kicker.



8. At least you aren't a Marshall fan.

In case you missed it on Sunday night, which you definitely did, Marshall had a 20-14 lead with under 30 seconds to play.

Understandably, the team took a timeout to set their defense. Then, they didn't cover the wide receiver.

At all.

Out of a timeout.

Touchdown Central Florida, game over 21-20. Here's the video if you don't believe me.

Or don't watch. Since this is what keeps fans up at night. Can you imagine being a Marshall fan and thinking to yourself, "Surely, we're not leaving that guy ... F--- me, why do I root for this team?"

I guarantee you that was the exact thought pattern of 95 percent of Marshall fans watching this game.

9. Michigan, poor Michigan.

Remember all that optimism after Michigan started 4-0?

It's gone.

Illinois, a then-1-6 team, physically dominated the mighty Wolverines on Saturday. How so? With 377 rushing yards. Michigan has now lost four of five and the only win came against Delaware State. 6-6 is looking likely. Assuming, that is, Purdue doesn't roll into Ann Arbor and knock that possibility away.

At least basketball season is 'nigh.

10. Mississippi State's Anthony Dixon ran for 252 yards on 33 carries against Kentucky.

That's the second most yards rushing by a player in an SEC game in a decade.

I was at Sneaker's sports bar in Jacksonville while the game was going on. They put it on a small television over my left shoulder. I was watching Tennessee-South Carolina on one of the huge projection screens on the wall. But as the Kentucky-Mississippi State game progressed, my friend and Kentucky alumnus Tardio just got angrier and angrier. First he cursed. Then he started to slam his hands on the table after big runs.

Eventually he just put his hands over his eyes and sighed.

Is there anything worse than watching your team get run on consistently? It's so emasculating, you can actually feel the testosterone running out of your body with each gallop into the open field. This was made all the worse for Kentucky fans because Dan Mullen wore huge puffy gloves that made it appear he was coaching somewhere in the Arctic. I don't mind coats, but do you really need to coach in gloves? Lane Kiffin did the same thing on Saturday. It's the SEC in late October, at worst, it's around 45 degrees if there's a night game. I think your fingers will survive.

Anyway, getting run on is even worse when it's someone like Anthony Dixon who isn't shifty or particularly fast. He runs standing up, like a horse out for a trot in the Bluegrass. Watching his run is the insult equivalent of a middle-finger being slowly extended in your direction while someone does that goofy cranking motion to make the finger rise.

11. What if there was an eight team playoff based on the BCS standings?

Right now, we'd have an awesome set of teams. You'd have traditional powers like Alabama, Florida and Texas. But then you'd have upstart teams like Iowa, Cincinnati, Boise State, Oregon and TCU. Can you imagine how excited those five fanbases would be?

Can you imagine how excited we'd all be?

I'll tell you exactly what you'd feel like -- a quarterback lining up with less than 30 seconds to play in a game when you suddenly realized no one had covered your receiver.