Boilerpig

What's the deal with the chain gang in college football?  The clock stops while they reset them after a first down.  In the pros, the chain crew is able to quickly reset the chains so that the officials don't have to stop the clock.  Are the chain gangs in college so physically challenged that they cannot bust their humps in short, 20 to 30 yard increments approximately 20 times over the course of three hours?  Why are they unable to match the performance of their brethren in the pros? 

Come'on Mr. College official, as long as the down marker is in place, can't the ball be snapped?  Forget about the chubby wannabes in charge of the chains. They just need to be in place by the end of the first down play.  Just seems to me that if the pros can get the chains moved in five to six seconds, then the precedent is set.  I love the college game, but we don't need a different set of rules in this instance.  

By the way, now that we have cameras flying over the field, microphones in helmets, and stadiums that open and close like tupperware, why are we still using the same set of chains?  You mean to tell me that no one's ever figured out a better way?  Shoe strings have seen more advances.  Let's get the GPS geeks together with the laser nerds.  What about that dye-pack technology that banks use?  You know, when you rob the bank they stick that fake batch of bills in there.  Once you're a set distance from the bank, kablooey.  Stick one of thes in the football.  If, while in the possesion of an offensive player, the ball crosses the first down line, it turns bright red -- first down!  I wonder...

It still hurts.   No, not this year's collapse.  I'm taking about 25 years ago when the Cubs lost the National League Championship series to the San Diego Padres.  Back then it was a best of five affair, and the first two games were at Wrigley.  The Cubs rolled over the Padres to take a two games to none lead.  Man, you could taste it.  Going to Cali needing to win just one out of three games.  No way the Padres, with their tacky-ass two-tone (brown and brown) uniforms, could pull off three straight victories. Remember, Sutcliff was in a Cy Young year for the Cubs, and he'd stop any sort Cub-like free-fall should the Padres force a game five.  Well, in case you're too young to know or too old to remember, the Cubs pulled off an eighties version of a great big Bartman.  Yep, they got swept.  No World Series, no World Championship, no cigar. My dorm room bed never quite recovered from the ass kicking it suffered.  After the deciding fifth game, I was crushed.  Not sad crushed, but mad crushed.  Those SOBs had choked away the World Series.  Back then, I was too young to understand perspective.  I had thrown my heart and soul into that Cub team.  Thanks to WGN, I watched every game I could that season.  I was vested, baby.  Durham, Moreland, Dernier, Dunston, Sandberg...destiny awaited.  Alas, it wasn't to be, and it hurt bad.

I vowed no more to get that serious about a sports team.  Sure, I'll go to as many games as I can, and I'll root like hell, but I won't get hurt like that again. "I'll keep a safe distance," I said to myself.  For those who care, I admit I've pushed the envelope a few times since my vow of "perspective".  But I never again crossed the line with the Cubbies.  When they have a year like 2008, I'm tempted to hop back into bed for a quickie with the ol' girl.  Why not I say?  Who'll know?  "Just to be safe, I'll pull out before things get messy."  Yeah, right.  

Fortunately, I always stop myself.  Too much scar tissue down there.  And when I start to have regrets, when the team beckons me to follow, they suddenly fall flat as a two-dollar ribeye.  And just like this year, I am redeemed!