Iowa 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

Hoooooooooly crap that was fun. Not even the most optimistic among us saw THAT coming. We hoped for—and maybe even believed in—an improbable Michigan win. But in our mind’s eye, that win looked much different. Maybe it was a scrappy Michigan team hanging around and making just enough plays to win. Maybe it was Michigan jumping out to an early lead and holding on against a furious late Ohio State rush. Maybe it would be a game of pure chaos in which Michigan was somehow the last team standing.

I can only speak for myself, but I didn’t envision a complete, opening-kick-to-final-whistle demolition. A processing. A workmanlike slaughter. I couldn’t imagine that Ohio State would be the team frantically scratching and clawing down the field, converting fourth downs, desperately trying to sustain drives by pulling plays out of their… uh… Buckeyes, only to see Michigan breeze down the field to undo all of that work in a few plays. Heck, if I told you before the game that one team’s second half drives would look like this…

• 3 plays, 81 yards, Touchdown
• 5 plays, 78 yards, Touchdown
• 9 plays, 66 yards, Touchdown
• 5 plays, 63 yards Touchdown

…you’d be forgiven if you started reaching for the bleach.

[After THE JUMP: People who blew it.]

But while Michigan fans were understandably surprised, Ohio State players and coaches were completely baffled. Their game plan seemed to be, “be better than Michigan.” And it’s hard to blame them; everything in their football experience said, “in a contest of good-on-good, our good is better than Michigan’s good.” They relied on winning battles. Beating corners. Getting off blocks. Tackling in space.

Michigan’s response? Maniacal effort. Unyielding, delirious energy. Getting after Ohio State from the very first snap. Being the aggressor at all times. Putting Ohio State to a test of wills, knowing that in the fourth quarter, eventually Ohio State would just not want any part of Michigan anymore. And they were right.

He showed these men of will what “will” was [Fuller]

And therein lies the problem for tonight.

Ohio State was comfortable competing for The Game as a battle of merit and athletic absolutism. They staked their success on the idea that the better team should win, not realizing what that would mean. Iowa, by contrast, makes no such declaration.

Iowa is a practitioner of the idea of predestination. The football gods have decided who will win before the game begins, so trying to change that outcome is pointless. Iowa football is Nihilism in a Cover 2 shell, waiting for whatever is gonna happen to happen. Iowa does not run into the line on 2nd and 8 because they think it’s the best way to win. They run into the line on 2nd and 8 because, why not, one play is as good as another, eat at Arby’s.

The teams that try hardest against Iowa, and who try to force the game, are the ones that end up on the turf. Iowa beat Iowa State by putting up 173 yards at 2.9 yards per play. How? Because Iowa State tried really hard, and turned the ball over 4 times and surrendered 13 points in the second half on a fumble return, a -8 yard field goal drive, and an 18 yard field goal drive. Maryland tried SUPER hard and turned the ball over 7 times. Meanwhile, Wisconsin ran the ball 48 times for 166 yards and won comfortably; the fact that Wisconsin didn’t have any better ideas was a blessing.

Think back to the 2016 game. Most of the problems arose when Michigan tried too much. Devin Bush got ejected for targeting a punter who fell down because he tried too hard. Khalid Hill fumbled on a kickoff return, which—and I love Panda as much as anyone who has ever worn the maize and blue—is a pretty good sign that you’re trying too hard. Michigan tried to bring a gun to a knife fight, and shot itself in the foot repeatedly.

Michigan wants this game. They want this game SO bad. Hassan Haskins and Aiden Hutchinson would run through fire to win this game. This game represents the culmination of everything they’ve been striving for, and the validation of the whooping they put on the Buckeyes seven days ago. These men are lions, and lions are not content to wait around to see whether Fate favors them or the lambs. But against Iowa, the tighter you squeeze, the closer it all comes to slipping through your fingers. Iowa 21, Michigan 20.

Michigan 31, Ohio State 30.

----------------------------

COUNTERPUNT

By Internet Raj
@internetraj

In a 2014 game between the Los Angeles Lakers and the New York Knicks, Lakers guard Nick Young launched a three-pointer in the waning seconds of the third quarter. Confident that he was going to make the shot, Young—aptly nicknamed “Swaggy P”—dramatically wheeled away from basket while his shot is still mid-flight, arms triumphantly outstretched with each hand flashing a three-point symbol. Young’s face oozed a cool, calm, and dare-I-say “swaggy” confidence as he strutted back to the other end of the court. The problem, though, was that Young ended up missing the shot, and the stark juxtaposition of his self-assured mean-mugging in the foreground and a brick clanging off the iron in the background solidified the premature celebration in the most hallowed halls of viral memedom.

In a 2008 game between the Philadelphia Eagles and Dallas Cowboys, rookie wide receiver Desean Jackson caught a 61-yard pass from Donovan McNabb and raced to the endzone without a defender in sight. The wideout was about to score his first ever career NFL touchdown, but instead made the inexplicable decision to nonchalantly drop the ball a yard shy of the endzone in celebration.

In the 2007 Chicago Marathon, Andrea Pirtea enjoyed a comfortable 30-second lead over Berhane Adere at the 40km mark. As she approached the finish line, Pirtea began to giddily high-five fans and exultantly wave to throngs. What Pirtea did not do, however, was ensure that her lead was safe. With less than 50 meters to go, Berhane sprinted past her and won the race by three seconds.

In a 2001 game between the Arizona Cardinals and the New York Giants, placekicker Bill Gramática nailed a 42-yard field goal and, in celebration, leapt triumphantly into the air. Gramática landed awkwardly and tore his right ACL. He was placed on the injured reserve list and missed the rest of the season.

On a blistery winter night in 2008, a young, cocksure Internet Raj was enjoying one of his first legal visits to Good Time Charley’s as an undergraduate at Michigan. As he struck up conversation with another female student at the bar, his confidence was overflowing, although it remains debatable how much of it was buoyed by well-earned charm and how much of it was fueled by healthy pours of Jameson. Of course, Raj was convinced that it was his smooth-faced looks, boyish magnetism, and witty repartee that was charging the undoubtedly electric conversation he was having. Ten minutes later, Raj retreated to his friends in the corner, the proud recipient of a phone number scrawled in pen on his arm. He may or may not have spent the next hour bragging about it, telling his friends “that’s how it’s done”, “I am a boss”, “my game is undeniable” and a litany of other cringey self-exaltations. It wasn’t until several days later he realized that he was trying to text the hotline for the Ann Arbor Public Library system.

[There’s no .gif or YouTube to share for this one – only the tattered remains of long-crumbled bravado.]

***

I don’t need to bludgeon the obvious point any longer. You know it. I know it. The Michigan football team knows it. Last week was glorious, a 4-hour exercise of pure joy and catharsis. Michigan dominated its seemingly invincible arch nemesis and exorcised two decades’ worth of failure and humiliation. But this is not the time to prematurely celebrate. This is not the time to jovially slap hands and pump fists while the Iowa Hawkeyes pass us by. Today, the Wolverines have an opportunity to do something they have never done in the history of the program: go to Indianapolis, win a Big Ten Championship Game, and earn a berth in the College Football Playoff. After the Chicago Bulls’ record-setting 72-10 regular season in 1995-96, the team famously adopted the slogan “72-10 Don’t Mean a Thing Without the Ring.” That’s almost certainly the mantra that Jim Harbaugh and the Wolverines are embracing today. All along, Michigan QB Cade McNamara has insisted that this Michigan squad is “different.” That this team does not buckle under pressure, does not wilt under the bright lights, and embraces adversity.

He's only been proven right over the course of the season. This team wasn’t born on third thinking it hit a triple. This team was born in a dinky dormitory in the minor leagues, hustled their way to the dugout, and are now on the on-deck circle waiting for their shot at glory to make the majors. And they’ve earned it each step of the way.

Michigan 41 Iowa 19