Tuesday typo & 'toon

The truth about football -- and a whole lot more

"Talent will get you seven or eight wins. Discipline gets you to around nine. Leadership is when the magic starts happening."

(Urban Meyer, Ohio State Head Football Coach, speaking to the media today)

There's snow in the air

It's about damned time. We'll likely get little more than a dusting today, a far cry from the way last winter began here in central Ohio. Still, it'll amount to the most we've seen so far this season.


Snow or no snow, though, this is a red-letter day in the KintlaLake household -- today marks one year since Scout came home with us. She is, in my opinion, the most perfect dog ever to walk this earth, a great addition to our family.

This afternoon we'll take down our Christmas tree and other holiday decor, probably while keeping tabs on Ohio State and Florida in the Gator Bowl. Win or lose it'll be a bittersweet end to a tumultuous year for my Buckeyes and, thanks to NCAA sanctions, the last time we'll go bowling 'til after the 2013 season.

Bring on the Urban Meyer era -- please.

Tomorrow it's back to work for the missus and me. That simple assertion -- back to work -- brings me more satisfaction than I can put into words. The job continues to be rewarding, too, due in large part to my wife's commitment to making her shop the best in the biz.

She's smart, confident and open to improving the way we do things. Hell, she even takes suggestions from a short-time shipper like me.

The third of January also will feature something else I'm watching closely -- Iowa Republicans will meet in 1,800 precinct caucuses to register their preferences for the party's presidential nominee. I'm no fan of partisan circuses, but I don't envy anyone who must choose a favorite from this year's GOP field.

Our nation desperately needs change, revolutionary change, and this is the best Republicans can offer? It's pathetic.

As for what 2012 holds for KintlaLake Blog, that's not too hard to predict. Commentary on the presidential campaign? Sure. More posts about urban resources, simple tools and sharps? Naturally.

In fact, my impressions of two new folding knives -- a Spyderco Para-Military2 and a Zero Tolerance 0350 -- should appear here in the coming weeks. Stay tuned, and Happy New Year!

Gameday recap

Yesterday's noon kickoff had Mrs. KintlaLake and me arriving on the Ohio State campus around 9am. Once there we strolled north along Neil, crossed Lane and, in a parking lot next to a venerable OSU watering hole, resurrected one of our favorite gameday traditions.

It had been three years since Danger Brothers left Lane Avenue when Hineygate, "the world's largest tailgate party," ended its 26-year run. The band played on, albeit at a tiny outdoor venue over a mile away, but pre-game hasn't been the same since.
But there we were behind the Varsity Club yesterday morning, sipping ice-cold Budweiser at an hour more appropriate to cereal and milk, digging Danger Brothers' wonderfully adolescent shtick. We'd been there less than a minute, I'd guess, when another member of the Beer-for-Breakfast Club approached me, grinning.

"You're here!" he shouted over the music, reaching to grab my hand. "My buds and me wondered if you'd be here -- I knew you would!"

I have no idea who that guy was -- and yeah, the encounter was just a wee bit disturbing -- but the spirit of Hineygate, cultivated over a generation of football Saturdays, has returned to Lane Avenue. It was like a big ol' reunion, familiar faces in a new place.

The missus and I hung around through Danger Brothers' first set so that we could extend a personal "welcome back" before heading over to The 'Shoe for another band and another reunion.
The first game traditionally hosts the annual return of TBDBITL alumni. The sight and sound of nearly a thousand bandsmen -- 225 current members and more than 750 scarlet-shirted alums -- is unforgettable, stirring our souls in ways I won't even try to describe.

As for the game, I'll cut to the chase: Ohio State 42, Akron 0. (Maybe there's a reason they're called "Zips.") The Bucks looked good, not great, and a win is a win.

My wife and I didn't see the whole game, however. We didn't even make it through the first half.

In 49 years of watching OSU play football in Ohio Stadium, I can't recall it ever being as brutally hot as it was yesterday -- upper 90s, heat index well above 110°F, stifling humidity and a smog alert.

An official went down from the heat ten minutes into the game. After the first quarter, fans started bailing down the aisles like they often do when the Buckeyes are up by four touchdowns at the end of the third. We went below shortly before halftime.

The concourse under the stands was jammed, the walls lined with people trying to cool off. Woozy patrons packed first-aid stations, with more standing in long lines awaiting medical help. Ambulances came and went like cabs at Grand Central -- hundreds of fans suffering from heat-related maladies, some reported to be serious, were transported to area hospitals. I'd never seen anything like it.

We chugged water and cuddled cups of ice for a half-hour, but we knew that if we returned to our A-deck seats it wouldn't take long for the relative comfort to broil away. Ultimately we decided to call it a (game)day.

I snapped this photo of Mrs. KintlaLake just before we walked out of the stadium. The sign means to convey that once we left, we wouldn't be permitted back in.

The double entendre, certainly unintentional, suited the occasion.

Overall it was a great day, despite the fact that we ended it utterly gassed. We still are, stumbling through the middle of our long weekend and trying to re-charge.

Nine two eleven

More than two dozen tomatoes, harvested from the garden yesterday morning, finish ripening on stone windowsills in our kitchen. Over in the fridge there's a tub of chunky salsa fresca, made with home-grown tomatoes and hot peppers, along with a bowl of cucumbers-and-onions salad marinating in red-wine vinegar.
Out back, the garden is a rat's nest of ridiculously productive plants and unreachable (but harmless) weeds. Our cuke vines are withering at the base but still setting fruit, about half of it small and stunted. We'll have a modest crop of peas from a second planting. More long green peppers are on the way and, obviously, three tomato plants are giving us more than we can handle.

As I hoped, we'll have a late-season bounty of habanero peppers.

I don't recall ever being this gratified with a backyard garden. As autumn approaches and takes hold I'll clear some of the beds, prepare the soil and plant wintering crops. The cycle never ends.

Recently I did a different kind of "planting" (so to speak) that'll bear fruit after the Labor Day weekend. Although I didn't mention it here, I took a temporary warehouse job a couple of weeks ago, filling in for four days at the shop my wife manages.

To my surprise, I really enjoyed the work. Apparently I proved my worth to the rest of the crew, too, because the corporate office called Mrs. KintlaLake this week and offered me a full-time position.

My first day is Tuesday.

Such a tape-and-boxes proposition requires a proper knife, of course. I rummaged through the blades I own and didn't find what I was looking for, exactly, so (naturally) I had a good excuse to go shopping.
After surfing KnifeWorks for a while, I picked up a Blade-Tech that fills the bill. The Ratel Lite is inexpensive, small, one-handed and equipped with a pocket clip -- perfect. I'll offer my impressions here once I've used it for a week or two.

Between now and the moment I punch the clock on Tuesday, however, I'll reach down and pick up "the longest continuous thread in the fabric of my life" -- Ohio State football.

It's been a rocky off-season, to say the least, an agonizing time for life-long fans of the Buckeyes. Just yesterday, three more players were suspended for the first game.

Tomorrow, the bullshit will end and football will begin.

Life in Buckeye Nation will get back to normal. Traditions cultivated over 122 years will resume. All will be well once again.

Like a storm leaves the air clear and fresh, scandal may have stripped OSU football to its essence. We have a new coach, an interim coach, a young coach. Expectations for this 2011 team are modest. Critics are likely to be uncharacteristically forgiving.

In other words, the pressure in Columbus is as low as it'll ever get.

This is one football season that everyone should be able to enjoy. Mrs. KintlaLake and I will settle into our seats in The 'Shoe tomorrow at noon, intent on doing just that.

Condition: Disappointed

"His integrity was one of the great myths of college football." (Sports Illustrated)

Jim Tressel did the right thing yesterday morning, resigning as Ohio State's head football coach. The news dominated beer-fueled conversations at Memorial Day cookouts throughout Buckeye Nation, no doubt, but Mrs. KintlaLake and I virtually ignored the subject and concentrated on our third straight day of yard work.

We weren't engaged in denial, mind you, simply overwhelmed with disappointment.

Regular readers know well my passion for OSU football -- I've referred to it as "the longest continuous thread in the fabric of my life." Now, ten years into what seemed to be a return to glory, the program is mired in shame.

Things will get worse from here, of course. The NCAA is expected to throw the book at Ohio State, probably involving scholarships and post-season play, maybe more. No matter who takes the Scarlet-and-Gray reins, the process of restoring luster to the Buckeyes will be long and excruciating.

I have a long view, both retrospectively and prospectively. I suspect that after the present dust clears -- which will take many years, to be sure -- Jim Tressel ultimately will be recognized more for his honor than for his failings.

Scoff if you like, but consider that there's a Woody Hayes Drive and a Woody Hayes Athletic Center -- both named for the irascible OSU football coach who was fired after he punched an opposing player. In Columbus, hell, anything is possible.

The monkey's gotta walk now

Ohio State bolted to a 28-7 advantage early in last night's Sugar Bowl. From there they hung on, got lucky and beat Arkansas in a nail-biter, 31-26.

It's the Bucks' first win over an SEC team in ten bowls -- curse over, burden lifted. More important, the victory capped a 12-1 season and ensured a likely top-five ranking when the final polls come out -- but if you read the national media this morning, football doesn't lead the stories.

See, a couple of weeks ago five OSU players were found to have broken NCAA rules by selling memorabilia and getting cut-rate tattoos. All are suspended for the first five games of the 2011 football season, and yet they were allowed to play in the Sugar Bowl.

I can't wrap my brain around an athlete parting with a championship ring, an MVP trophy or a gold-pants charm. I'm sentimental that way, I guess -- I mean, I still have every ticket stub from the Bucks' 1968 national-championship season.

Color me scarlet, gray and disappointed.

Then again, awards belong to the players who earned them -- or they should, anyway. The NCAA rulebook bars athletes from profiting from the sale of that kind of stuff.

It's a rule, another dumb NCAA rule, but a rule nonetheless. Like it or not, punishment is in order -- and the suspensions should've begun with the bowl game, not eight months from now. So why were those five Buckeyes permitted to play last night?

Because the sport's governing body, the schizophrenic NCAA, said so.

The whole affair gives the media plenty of rocks to throw at the NCAA, certainly. Leading up to the bowl, however, and continuing this morning, sports pundits have castigated Ohio State for not voluntarily holding the offenders out of the game with Arkansas.

That kind of moralizing is, to me, as much of a head-scratcher as the NCAA's rule and ruling. It's like demanding that Jim Tressel throw himself on a grenade -- and insisting that he supply his own grenade.

Fortunately, Coach Tressel let his players -- all of them -- decide what to do. The team voted overwhelmingly in favor of letting the five violators play in the Sugar Bowl, and so they did. When the chips had finished falling last night, here's how they fared:

• Offensive tackle Mike Adams played every series.
• Wide receiver DeVier Posey caught three passes for 70 yards and one touchdown.
• Running back Daniel "Boom" Herron rushed for 87 yards and one touchdown.
• Backup defensive end Solomon Thomas made arguably the game's decisive play, intercepting a pass in the final minute to preserve OSU's victory.
• Quarterback Terrelle Pryor passed for 221 yards and two touchdowns, rushed for 115 and was named the game's MVP.

Now that's sweet. I couldn't be happier for those guys.

All five are juniors, eligible to return next season. They say they will, but you never know. If they do, none will see the field 'til October.

Will their stand-ins be able to carry their load? Probably not. We'll answer that question later.

Right now, if you don't mind, Buckeye Nation would like to get back to celebrating a great season and a Sugar Bowl win.

1942

The "throwback uniforms" worn by Ohio State during yesterday's win over Michigan were a tribute to the 1942 OSU team that captured the school's first national championship. At a break early in The Game, the crowd of 105,491 paused to recognize a handful of surviving members on-hand for the occasion.
The perspective of history reveals how very special the 1942 Buckeyes were (and are). Among them were five All-Americans: Chuck Csuri, Gene Fekete, Lin Houston, Paul Sarringhaus and Bob Shaw. Six other members of the team earned All-America honors in subsequent years: Warren Amling (twice), Jack Dugger, Bill Hackett, Les Horvath, Cecil Souders and Bill Willis (twice).

Horvath went on to win the 1944 Heisman Trophy.

Three of those players -- Amling, Horvath and Willis -- have been inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame. Amling, who also played basketball for Ohio State, is the only member of that Hall who also started an NCAA Final Four game.

Dante "Glue Fingers" Lavelli became a star in the NFL. Willis broke pro football's "color barrier" a year before Jackie Robinson did the same in major-league baseball. Both of those former Buckeyes are now in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

The head coach of this stellar squad was Paul Brown -- yes, that Paul Brown. Yesterday he became only the second OSU coach permanently enshrined in Ohio Stadium. (Woody Hayes was the first.) A large plaque honoring Brown was unveiled during yesterday's ceremonies. Its subscript reads, "Ohio's Coach 1932-1991."

For those of us who grasp the breadth of Brown's contributions, the title captures the man perfectly. From Massillon to Ohio State, the Cleveland Browns and Cincinnati Bengals, he truly was Ohio's coach. On a personal note, my father often told me of cheering on his high-school classmates as they barreled toward their sixth straight state championship, a certain nattily dressed coach prowling the sideline.

The coach was a 32-year-old Paul Brown. The high school's stadium now bears his name.

It's all part of Ohio gridiron history and well known, I suppose. Now here's something that even the most rabid Buckeye fans probably aren't aware of.

On the back of OSU players' helmets yesterday was a sticker bearing the image of a military medal and the letters "CC." The initials are those of All-American tackle Csuri, who also was his team's and the conference's MVP.

Like many of his teammates, Csuri left OSU after the 1942 season to fight in World War II. While a forward observer with the 69th Infantry, helping to direct artillery fire during the Battle of the Bulge, communications went down and the barrage ceased. The young Army corporal volunteered to run dispatches through snow-covered terrain back to Allied headquarters. For his bravery under fire, Csuri was awarded the Bronze Star.

If his story ended right then and there, Chuck Csuri would be worthy of respect. It doesn't.

This celebrated athlete and decorated combat veteran returned to Ohio State after the war, in 1948 earning a Master's Degree in art and joining the university's faculty a year later. He embraced emerging technology, sought ways to apply it to his discipline and in 1964 created what's considered the first computer art.

Today, Dr. Charles A. Csuri is universally regarded as the father of digital art and computer animation. He's still a Professor Emeritus at The Advanced Computing Center for Art and Design at The Ohio State University -- at age 88.

As football stories go, Ohio State's 1942 national-championship team is a good one. Unwrapping the familiar tale, however, tells us more -- a whole lot more.

I can't help but wonder about the richness and texture that may hide behind all of the other stories I think I know.

Seven makes nine

The Game is still The Game. It just doesn't feel much like a rivalry anymore.

With Ohio State's 37-7 spanking of Michigan this afternoon in The 'Shoe, the Buckeyes notched their seventh straight win over the Wolverines -- a streak unmatched in the 107-game series. OSU coach Jim Tressel has bested U-M nine times in his ten seasons.

Michigan coach Rich Rodriguez, who abandoned Morgantown for Ann Arbor, runs his record against Ohio State to 0-3. His teams have been outscored 100 to 24.

All of which makes my wife giddy beyond belief. (She's a lifelong Mountaineers fan.)

"I'm ticked," a shell-shocked Rodriguez said during his post-game press conference. "Whaddaya want me to do? Hold hands with all the Buckeye fans and sing 'Kumbaya'?"

Mrs. KintlaLake predicts that U-M will fire Rodriguez. I disagree with her about that, but maybe that's my cockeyed optimism. As far as I'm concerned he can stay as long as he likes.

Whatever. On a cold and windy late-November day when The Ohio State University plays the University of Michigan in football, there's no place I'd rather be than in the stands -- and that's where I was today, reveling in tradition, savoring another victory.

Let someone else gauge lust and luster. It's still The Game.



P.S. to the kill-joy Big Ten officiating crew: I've got your "unsportsmanlike conduct" right here.

Don't drink the water

We interrupt this blog for nutritional advice from the good folks at Anheuser-Busch.

While doing some research yesterday afternoon, I ran across this Budweiser ad in a 1917 issue of Forest & Stream. (Click on the ad to see it full-size.)

The "drink beer, not water" pitch got me chuckling. But the table showing that city water contains "waste matter" -- a.k.a. sewage, a.k.a. shit -- and Bud doesn't had me laughing my ass off.

With #7 Ohio State's 20-17 comeback win over Iowa today, this year's Beat Michigan week has begun. Seems as good a time as any to start paying more attention to my nutrition.

'Life never gives you more leaves than you can handle'

(& other scattered thoughts from the weekend)

A meteorologist would call the past few days "unseasonably warm." We simply call it "Indian Summer."

Today it's breezy and, for late October, balmy. A gray sky hints at storms by afternoon.

(The image at right, by the way, clipped from Dan Beard's 1920 classic American Boys' Handy Book of Camp Lore & Woodcraft, is completely unrelated to anything in this post. I just happen to like it.)

This time yesterday I was chasing fallen leaves, racing a 1pm NFL kickoff. The younger spawn pulled gutter duty while I cleaned up the edges of the yard, alternating between vac and blower. Then I fired up our walk-behind mower and mulched (twice) the leaves that remained on the lawn. (Look for an upcoming installment of Urban Resources inspired by the exercise.)

I finished my yard work by the middle of the first quarter of Browns-Saints. As a long-suffering Cleveland fan, I'm delighted to say that I got to watch the Browns answer the question, "Who Dat?"

It wasn't pretty, and nobody really believes that Cleveland is better than the defending NFL champs, but escaping the Superdome with a 30-17 win is worth celebrating.

It'd be unwise of me to gloat too much, though, since Mrs. KintlaLake is a big Saints fan. In fact, three of her favorite teams -- WVU, LSU and New Orleans -- all lost over the weekend. (Her Colts didn't play.)

Ohio State, on the other hand, bounced back from last week's loss to obliterate Purdue on Saturday. The Buckeyes were up 42-0 at halftime, on the way to a 49-0 final. Nice recovery, guys.

My wife and older spawn watched the rout from our seats in C Deck while I killed time outside The 'Shoe. I watched law-enforcement assets re-deploy (but not stand down) after ticketholders entered the stadium, taking special note of one particular piece of hardware.

You're looking at one of Big Brother's mobile cousins -- a compact, trailer-mounted surveillance rig equipped with a pair of pan-tilt-zoom cameras that can automatically track moving objects. It travels with its own on-board video server, and the communications dish atop the 30-foot telescoping mast can link to the state's new monitoring hub in Columbus.

It's good knowing that this sort of technology is out there -- I mean, it's better being aware that it's in use -- but it doesn't have me all paranoid or anything. Actually, I think it's pretty damned cool.

Mrs. KintlaLake and the 18-year-old emerged from the game asking for a snapshot with the stadium in the background. As I readied my camera, an older gentleman, walking alone, passed behind my subject. I did a double-take before calling out to him.

"Coach?"

He stopped, turned and smiled. "Yessir?"

"Would you mind posing for a picture with my family?"

He graciously agreed, still smiling that smile. We shook hands as we parted, and I fumbled for something to say.

"Pay forward -- right, Coach?"

He cocked his head. "You bet, young man." He walked briskly away, waved over his shoulder and repeated the affirmation.

"You bet!"

On Homecoming Day at OSU, a day when Elvis starred in TBDBITL's halftime show, I wasn't the least bit surprised that the old Coach decided to make an appearance, too.

Toppled

To the Ohio State Buckeyes football team: That's what it feels like to get your butt kicked.

It didn't matter what plays Tressel & Co. called, the Wisconsin Badgers were stronger, faster, quicker, meaner, better. Despite the Bucks' heartening third-quarter surge -- which made the game interesting if not respectable -- this was Wisconsin's night.

I'd like to say that being #1 was fun while it lasted, but it didn't last long enough to know for sure. Sheesh.

Beat Michigan, anyone?

This dog's day

My #2-ranked Buckeyes stomped Indiana yesterday. (Natch.) Michigan went down to rival Michigan State (for the third year in a row) and South Carolina upset #1 Alabama.

Now that's a good day.

The scribes and coaches who vote in the major polls must feel like they're stuck in a bad dream -- since 2003, OSU has squandered its high rankings and was embarrassed in its last two national-title games.

None of that matters this morning, and figuring out how the hell we'll beat Wisconsin at Camp Randall next Saturday night can wait 'til tomorrow. Right now, here in Buckeye Nation and beyond, what's important is this: We're #1!

* * *
Saturday also brought a few other reasons to smile, decidedly more personal reasons.

One of our neighbors, a kid who played his high-school football across the street, had himself a highlight-reel moment (pictured) in the first quarter of Bucks' 38-10 win over the Hoosiers.

Mrs. KintlaLake's WVU Mountaineers rolled UNLV, 49-10.

I attended OSU-Indiana with our 15-year-old, his first trip to The 'Shoe for something other than a Spring Game. Later I recounted the day's events to my wife, telling her what a great time the spawn and I had together.

"You got to see everything through the eyes of a child," she said, gauging the emotion in my voice.

"No, not exactly," I replied. "For the first time I got to see it through my father's eyes."

So do we, Coach...

For the birds

Four minutes into OSU's game with Eastern Michigan yesterday, the Buckeyes were up 14-0.

The mismatch was official, the rout on. I did some quick math.

"Y'know," I said to my wife, "this thing really could be 210-0 by the time it's over."

Against a team riding a 15-game losing streak, a school which has the proud eagle as its mascot but initials that spell out the name of a flightless bird with a brain the size of its eyeball -- EMU -- anything was possible.

The Bucks possessed the ball 12 times and had 11 scores, racking up 645 yards and punting just once. Wide receiver Dane Sanzenbacher caught an OSU record-tying four TD passes from Terrelle Pryor, who himself had a TD catch and another rushing.

Most memorable, at least for me, was Ohio State's second-quarter response to the Emus' first touchdown. It took the Buckeyes eight nonchalant plays to cover 68 yards, the dominant offense making the exercise look about as strenuous as a hotel-ballroom walkthrough, ending with Pryor's nine-yard scoring toss to Sanzenbacher.

That made it 31-7, on the way to a holy shit final of 73-20.

Here endeth the "green" portion of the 2010 schedule. Now bring on the Big Ten and let's see what we're made of.

Honest labor

In this New Normal, many Americans are enduring long stretches of unemployment or (so-called) under-employment. No matter who or where we are, we ask ourselves this question:

"What am I willing to do?"

After leaving Saturday's game my wife and I headed to a gun show over on the city's west side, where we ran into the guy who taught my CCW class. In addition to being a firearms instructor, a retired (but still commissioned) law-enforcement officer, a local elected official and a proponent of preserving primitive skills, he's also something of a gentleman farmer.

It's mid-September, time for him to harvest his pumpkins. He offered me a job picking the seasonal crop. I accepted.

I showed up at the farm early yesterday morning, accompanied by my unemployed 18-year-old. The first field we were instructed to work was overgrown with thistles -- I'm talkin' eight feet tall, their downy seeds filling the air like snow.

We were left on our own to clear ten-foot-wide paths that'd be bush-hogged and harvested later. It took us nearly two hours to fight through the tangle to the opposite side of the field, 150 yards away. Our boss returned with another picker just as we made the turn to cut another swath.

Together the four of us cut two more paths over the next hour. We then hitched a hay-wagon to a pickup truck and followed it back and forth across the field, heaving the orange orbs onto the wagon.

Once loaded, truck and wagon began their slow journey to a local roadside stand. The spawn and I drove on ahead to unload another wagon that had been delivered the day before, finishing about the time that the morning's picking arrived. And after that wagon was empty, we set about unloading a trailer stacked with the biggest pumpkins that are practical to sell, some requiring two of us to move.

My watch read 1:30pm when our crew broke for an hour. The spawn and I picked up his younger brother at school, dropped him at home and went back to the fields, where we loaded yet another wagon.

The day's final hours saw us picking a planting of smallish pumpkins, round ones ranging from grapefruit- to cantaloupe-sized, and tossing them into the bed of a pickup. Field's end coincided with full truck, which by that time held around 2,500 pumpkins.

The boy and I boarded my TrailBlazer as the sun dipped toward the tops of the trees. We fell in behind our boss on his old John Deere and followed him across field and wood, past his shooting range and finally to his well-kept homestead. The three of us chatted in the driveway for several minutes before saying our goodbyes.

The 18-year-old is back in the fields today. I'm not.

Yesterday I pushed myself to, through and well past my physical limits. My slow recovery now isn't a matter of age -- hell, two of my fellow punkin-pickers are 65+. I dressed for the day's oppressive heat and kept myself well-hydrated. I bonked anyway, big-time.

There's no labor so honest as farming, working close to the land. I'm no farmer, though, nor am I the 16-year-old who slogged through football drills on late-summer mornings, went straight from the practice field to the hayfield to help with baling, and was back in pads by 4pm for the second two-a-day.

Willing though I may be, as hard as I'm able to work around my own yard and house, compared to men who have been doing this kind of labor all of their lives it seems that I've gone soft.

I'm not resigned to decline, however. Whether or not I can reverse my physical slide remains to be seen, but I'm committed to forestalling it at the very least.

Addendum: Gameday notes
A strange scene unfolded during Saturday's pre-game in The 'Shoe, directly below where my wife and I stood and cheered.

OSU's mascot, Brutus, was leading the #2 Buckeyes onto the field before the National Anthem when OhioU's mascot, Rufus, crashed tradition, tackled the unsuspecting Brutus (twice) and punched him repeatedly.

This wasn't the play-acting typical of sports mascots -- the 19-year-old raging psycho-dumbass in the Bobcat getup admits to having planned the stunt for over a year.

"It was the whole reason I tried out," he told the campus newspaper.

It's tempting, naturally, for self-righteous Ohio State fans to shout, "Disrespect!" and make this some sort of OSU-OhioU thing. That'd be wrong, of course.

Confusing disrespectful with stupid, I mean.

Gameday notes

When the Bobcats of Ohio University stepped out of the MAC and into The 'Shoe yesterday, no one gave them a chance to beat The Ohio State University -- and no one should've.

The Buckeyes' offense clicked and the defense smothered everything that Ohio U. tried to do. (Dig the photo showing seven Silver Bullets on the ball.) OSU was up 27-0 after one quarter and 34-0 by halftime. The final score was a merciful 43-7.

Since falling 7-6 to Oberlin in 1921, Ohio State is 41-0-1 against in-state football competition. (Wooster managed a 7-7 tie in 1924.) A few opponents have come close -- Ohio U. in 2008 and Cincinnati in 2002 -- but this wasn't to be the year for an upset.

* * *
Best game-day slogan, seen on the back of a t-shirt:

"I may cheer for the Buckeyes, but I drink like a Bobcat."

An inside joke, playing off of Ohio U.'s reputation as a party school.

* * *
After the season-opener against Marshall I commented on the level of security around Ohio Stadium, noting specifically the "roll-through checkpoints" we observed. This week Mrs. KintlaLake discreetly snapped a couple of photos as we passed through a chicane on Woody Hayes Drive, in the middle of the bridge over the Olentangy River.


Notice the Ohio State Highway Patrol SRT trooper with the dog, posted just prior to where vehicles enter the checkpoint.

The white delivery van in front of us was ordered to pull to the side and was swept individually.

Looking back toward the security chicane reveals how truly tight it is. The magnified perspective shows that we were the second-to-last in our six-vehicle group to clear scrutiny. At the intersection in the distance, several hundred yards west, traffic is stopped awaiting officers' instructions to proceed toward the checkpoint.

I'm careful, of course, not to post a lot about the hows and wheres of game-day security. We respect the integrity of the effort, as well as the men and women behind it.

A friend of ours has command responsibility for much of this deployment -- my wife and I spent a half-hour chatting with him yesterday morning, actually -- and we're privy to details that most folks will never know.

Suffice it to say that some of those details would curl your hair.

Where were you on 9/11?

No, not in 2001 -- I'm talking about last Saturday, on the ninth anniversary of the terrorist attacks.

Ok, I'll go first.

Where I was
As you might expect, on a football Saturday I spent my daylight hours in and around Ohio Stadium for the game with Miami.

Buckeye Nation is the heart of the Heartland and we have our priorities. Before the teams strapped on their helmets and drew first blood, we paid reverent tribute to the occasion.


The Ohio State University Marching Band unfurled a big American flag on the field and played "America." After a moment of silence -- observed by all but the classless and poorly self-policed Miami fans, who wouldn't shut up -- the National Anthem was performed by Columbus' own Rascal Flatts.

It was a stirring rendition and a significant break from tradition. As I said here two-and-a-half years ago, when it comes to the "Star Spangled Banner" I have a problem with performances:

"The national anthem is our national anthem -- it should be joined and sung by The People, not performed for The People. The People should celebrate -- insist on celebrating -- the privilege of honoring our freedom in unison."

I love Rascal Flatts and they did a spectacular job, but let's not make a habit of this, ok?

Toward the end of the first half, the public-address announcer directed our attention to the South end zone and introduced first-responders from throughout Ohio, men and women who serve us every day. Then, before TBDBITL took the field for its halftime show, another group was honored -- FDNY firefighters and paramedics, NYPD officers and other first-responders who bear the physical and emotional scars of Ground Zero.

Last to be introduced: David and Peggy Beamer, parents of the late Todd Beamer. Todd spoke the words, "Let's roll!" on United Flight 93 that crashed in Shanksville, Pennsylvania on 9/11.

More than 105,000, tears dimming our eyes, roared for our heroes.

Mrs. KintlaLake and I left the stadium at that point, piled into the truck and drove 130 miles northeast for my 35th high-school reunion. It was our second such trip in 24 hours -- we'd joined a smaller group of my classmates on Friday night for a tailgate party.

This wasn't any sort of 9/11 commemoration, certainly, simply a gathering of aging men and women who remember being children together. We reacquainted and reminisced, laughed and cried, poked and prodded and pretended we aren't getting older.


We're the sons and daughters of dirt farmers, steel workers, meat cutters and firefighters, so we didn't reunite in a fancy hotel ballroom for a seven-course gourmet meal. We came together in a picnic pavilion (a big garage, really) to feast on fried chicken, take-out pizza, grocery-store cookies and cheap beer in 12-ounce cans.

Returning to my old stompin' grounds and seeing the faces of childhood friends -- coming home -- was the right thing to do, putting a perfect cap on my September 11th.

Where I wasn't
I didn't travel to Anchorage, Alaska for Sarah Palin's fundraiser featuring her "buddy" Glenn Beck.


Maybe you think it's ok for public figures to exploit 9/11 to line their pockets -- I don't. The only people who deserve less respect than Palin and Beck are the simple-minded groupies who paid a minimum of $73.75 -- that's $3.75 more than a ticket for OSU-Miami, if you're keeping score at home -- and as much as $225 to see the carnival act in-person.

They're the same people who see these clowns as "thought leaders." I have a question, though -- is "thought leader" the same thing as "attention whore"?

Of course not -- the latter is closer to the truth. And after their self-serving Anchorage gig, maybe we should simplify matters and just call Palin and Beck what they are...

Perched

Ohio State's 2010 football season kicked off yesterday against Marshall -- on a Thursday night, of all things, which felt strange. It also was the first time in five years that my wife and I had been in The 'Shoe for a regular-season game and the first time in decades that I'd watched my Buckeyes from the thin air of "C Deck."

Our seats were (and will be for the remaining seven home games) ten rows below the rim of the stadium, roughly 120 to 130 vertical feet above the playing field. The American flag, waving atop the tallest flagpole in Ohio, fluttered at eye level.

Gulp. I mean, airplanes fly at lower altitudes.

Mrs. KintlaLake and I overcame our acrophobia enough to enjoy the annual TBDBITL Alumni reunion and the Bucks' 45-7 drubbing of the boys from Huntington, aided by a C-Deck-only breeze that made the muggy evening tolerable. (The temp at kickoff was 89°F, dropping to 86°F by the time we filed out of the stadium.)

We had a great time and, of course, it was a promising start for the Buckeyes. We'll know more a week from tomorrow, when #2 OSU hosts #13 Miami.


Observations: Security
As we approached Ohio Stadium last night, we noticed that the law-enforcement presence was more intense than we've come to expect. Now it could be, as a retired-LEO friend of mine assured me, that it's been that way since 2001 and we just haven't noticed. Still, I was struck by the veritable iron cordon establishing a 500-yard perimeter around the stadium.

Pedestrians were free to come and go from the area, but vehicles couldn't get close without weaving through "gates" created by parked tactical vehicles and maintenance equipment. At these roll-through checkpoints, SWAT and SRT officers eyed each vehicle as it passed.

I probably wasn't the only fan who came away with the impression, "Damn, this is serious."

I found the tight security neither disconcerting nor particularly comforting, though -- it is what it is. I tip my Block O cap to the pros who choose to pull such thankless duty, and I look forward to seeing them again on the afternoon of Ohio State's game with Miami.

The date: September 11, 2010.

Props: Evan Turner

The 2009-2010 Ohio State basketball team's season ended a couple of weeks ago with a three-point loss to Tennessee, but Buckeyes star Evan Turner didn't finish his run until yesterday.

Last night, Turner won the coveted John R. Wooden Award as the nation's top player. That honor will share space in his trophy case with the Naismith Award, the Oscar Robertson Award, the AP National Player-of-the-Year Award and the Big Ten Player-of-the-Year Award.

It was, in the end, a consensus sweep for the 6'7" Turner, whose per-game averages of 20.4 points, 9.2 rebounds and 6.0 assists were impressive if not spectacular. There's a compelling story behind the stats, however -- in a December game against Eastern Michigan, Turner landed awkwardly and hard, suffering fractures to his spine.

Fans feared that the junior swingman was out for the season, but he returned to action less than five weeks later, propelling OSU to the Big Ten Championship and a 29-8 overall record.

That's leadership.

His truckload of national awards -- each the equivalent of college football's Heisman Trophy -- is symbolic of the respect he earned. Within and beyond the borders of Buckeye Nation, no one deserves that respect more than Evan Turner.