In Jake We Trust

In a game featuring seven turnovers, a few controversial calls (both officiating and play selection), pre- and post-game fisticuffs, a last second outcome, a dual Ute quarterback benching, a game winning Utah drive which included a punt and an interception - now that's the way to move the ball when you're struggling on offense!- the ever reliable foolish fan shenanigans, and of course the blocked kick, one play in particular has replayed itself in my mind over and over again.

After Utah took the lead for the first time with four minutes remaining, the  BYU offense was levied with the task of making a final minute game winning drive. Impeding them in their quest was a fired up Utah defense, a rabid home crowd, and perhaps the biggest obstacle of all, BYU's inexperience. The Cougar offense would have to perform a miracle comeback with a 19-year old quarterback, not to mention freshman at the running back, wide receiver and tight end positions. If ever there were a time for the Cougar offense to lose their composure, this was it. The situation looked even worse following BYU's first two plays of the series: a pair of hand offs which removed one minute from the game clock and netted a total of one yard. Enter the play I cannot seem to forget.

Third and nine, ball on BYU's own 21 yard line. Three minutes to play. Rice-Eccles stadium erupting. Sixty yards away from field goal range. Sensing the desperation of BYU's situation, a Ute lineman stood up from his stance and pointed directly at freshman quarterback Jake Heaps. He held his arm out for one, two seconds, then ran his fist across his throat, pulling a Babe Ruth and predicting before the play began that Heaps, and BYU as a team, were dead.

From my couch at home I had to agree with the Ute lineman. How could I expect a freshman quarterback to overthrow the crowd noise, the momentum, the pressure, the adrenalin-filled defenders and complete the first down?

A side note: I hope these all white uniforms become abolished

Boy was I ever wrong. Heaps dropped back, looked off a pair of receivers, and bulleted a 22-yard pass to Devin Mahina. Chains moved. Crowd silenced. Babe Ruth denied. BYU alive.

Heaps wasn't done. He completed three more passes on the drive, looking eerily like John Beck did four years ago in a similar game winning march against Utah. "It's hard to throw the ball when everyone know you have to throw it," said Ute coach Kyle Whittingham, yet that was when Heaps was at his best, eventually moving the ball to the 28 yard line of Utah. From there, the team decided to settle for the ugly best friend (a field goal) instead of pursuing the beautiful cheerleader (a touchdown) and consequently lost the game. Ironically BYU may have been in better shape had Ute kicker Joe Phillips made a field goal he missed earlier in the game. Trailing by four rather than one would have forced BYU to go for the endzone, an option that seemed more attractive than attempting a long field goal in a game in which every conceivable break had gone against the Y.

Oh well.

The point I want to make is not what BYU could have or should have done. What I want to write about is the thing that has buoyed my spirits in the midst of this brutal loss - the play of Jake Heaps. Turns out that I - like the Ute lineman did that play, like the BYU coaching staff did all season - underestimated young Jake Heaps. The kid looked like a veteran in avoiding sacks, scrambling for quality yardage on one play and throwing accurate passes throughout the entire game. By any account he thoroughly outplayed the Utes two attempts at quarterback, and looked more calm and prepared than Max Hall had in his three cracks against the U (and keep in mind that line is written by a person who adores Max Hall).

Oh yeah, and did I mention he did it with a popped rib?

From Gordon Monson for the Salt Lake Tribune: "Jake Heaps winced as he slowly walked into the cold, dark night outside Rice-Eccles Stadium after the BYU-Utah game on Saturday, surrounded by family members and pained in every which way a quarterback can hurt. In the first quarter, he popped out a rib when a defender belly-flopped on him after a scramble. The rib was popped back in by trainers at halftime, and the freshman played on."

Oh yeah, and did I mention he did it without his best receiver?

Heaps in fact played the whole season without the receiver who was most accustomed to his velocity (injured freshman Ross Apo) and BYU paid a dear price for it all year long with numerous dropped passes (none perhpas bigger than Luke Ashworth's drop against the U which contributed to a Utah touchdown two plays later).

Oh yeah, and did I mention the guy is 19-years old?

Had BYU won this game the only thing being discussed in the sports mediums would be how great Jake Heaps played and how set for the future BYU's offense appears to be. Even with the loss, some people couldn't resist from praising Heaps' performance.

“You guys witnessed a great player play today. He’s young, but he’s a phenomenal, phenomenal player.” - BYU safety Andrew Rich

“It bears noting at this point that in his first rivalry game, Jake Heaps showed poise beyond his years. The kid is a star in the making, a future pro, and you can see it on every snap.” - BYU radio voice Greg Wrubell

“I hate to say it, but he's going to be a great one.” - Utah defensive coordinator Kalani Sitake.

“He looks to be the best I've seen in 10 years of covering the Mountain West Conference” - U of U radio voice Bill Riley.

Perhaps the quarterback's best play came after the game, when a Utah fan approached Heaps for his autograph. In a rivalry that has been filled with ugly behavior throughout the years, the humble approach of the fan and the willingness of a heartbroken player to sign his name marked a moment of class from both sides. It was another smart move by Heaps and an even smarter move by the Utah fan. Because if Heaps continues to progress at this rate, number nine is going to go down in history as BYU's number one quarterback of all time.

I'd want that autograph too.

Rivalry Ruined

We are five days away from the best Saturday of 2010. Or the worst, depending on the final score of course. I don't need to tell you what's coming up, but I will anyway.

Poopsh-utes versus Zoobs.

Marmons versus state.

BYU versus Utah.

The day that makes or breaks the entire year.

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With good reason has this match up been reserved as the last regular season game of the year for these two clubs. Not many rivalries (if any at all) can match the competitive closeness the Utes and Cougs have shared over the past two decades. Since 1990 each team has won ten of the twenty games played. Over the last decade the story's been the same, with BYU and Utah splitting the ten matches with five wins each. Eleven of the last thirteen games have been decided by a touchdown or less, with eight of the last ten being in doubt until the final minute of the fourth quarter. Closer still, three of the last five games have been decided on the final play of the game.

I rarely accept moments in sports that involve crying - the BYU-Utah game is one of them

There hasn't been anything to compare with it. Perhaps no other rivalry (at least over this 20-year span) has been so intense, so down-to-the-wire, kill-yourself if you lose, dance-in-the-streets-naked if you win suspenseful. The closeness of the games has reinforced what has long been claimed by fans, media, and players alike - that the BYU-Utah football rivalry is one of the best in all of sports.

Which is why it's so sad that it's about to die.

Oh, the game will continue to be played, no doubt about that. Regardless of conference differences, neither schools athletic director will ever let a year go by without scheduling the arch-rival. If one school chose not to schedule the other, they would be mocked eternally for being afraid to play their greatest enemy, and both of these programs are way too proud to let that happen.

No, the death I refer to is the end of this game being played in the final weeks of November, a tradition which has been in place since 1968. Due to changes in conference, the Cougs and Utes will now play in the middle of September every year instead of near Thanksgiving weekend. I find this situation to be, in the words of the incomparable Jackie Chiles, "... totally inappropriate. It's lewd, vesivius, salacious, outrageous!" The fourth Saturday in November was set apart in the councils of heaven as the date on which the Cougars and the Utes would wage war. The date in which families would be divided, friends would turn foes, and fans would become fanatics. We might as well change the date of Christmas while we're at it.

I guarantee the rivalry will decrease in quality if it is held in September. Here are the reasons why:

#1. Lower quality of play. Teams usually play their best football at the end of the season, after having had various weeks to identify playmakers, build chemistry, and master the team's system (the one exception to this rule - injuries). When BYU and Utah meet in September they won't be as fine-tuned as they would be playing in November. Just imagine if BYU would've played Utah in the third game of this season. BYU had yet to find the soul of their team and would have consequently been red-washed by the Utes. Ten weeks later? The Cougs have come together and stand an actual chance in the game.

#2. Less anticipation. Playing in the final weeks of November allows the anticipation and build-up to drag on for a longer period of time. Keep in mind this is one of the best elements of the rivalry. Being able to analyze results and standings throughout the season allows for comparison and trash talk. But play the game over Labor Day and you have a mere two weeks of measuring the teams. Plus, holding the game in September violates the principle of "saving the best for last". Our season finales next year? Utah versus Colorado and BYU vs New Mexico State! Does it get any more thrilling?

#3. Less hangover.  Battling at the beginning of the season instead of the end removes the extended hangover/happiness that the winners and losers of finales normally experience. Being the last game of the year, the sadness/joy that accompanies victory or loss lasts longer than that of a game played at the start of the year. Losses in week one or two can be made up for by wins in subsequent weeks. But if you lose your final game ... you may not get a chance to remove that bitter feeling for a long time. Additionally, the opportunity to make up for a crappy season by at least beating your rival in the final game is lost by scheduling the game at the first of the year.

#4. Less on the line. Remember the year 2008? Utah met BYU in late November where a victory would be the difference between a BCS bowl and a trip to the lower-class Las Vegas bowl. Everything was on the line for the Utes that game. The pressure would've killed me were I a Utah fan (heaven forbid). It all came down to the final 60 minutes of the season, with the only thing standing between Utah and perfection being their eternal nemesis. That scenario is not happening in September.

#5. No Thanksgiving element. A holiday dedicated to food, family, and lounging around goes hand in hand with rivalry football games. They need one another. The losing team in particular benefits from having this game played near Thanksgiving because the holiday effects offer peace and consolation to those who may consider hurting themselves after being beaten. I know for me it was a lot easier to swallow the 2008 loss to Utah when I was able to wash it down with six turkey sandwiches and half a pumpkin pie. However if my Cougs lose to the Utes in September, there's no holiday cheer to prevent me from committing hara-kiri (International Literacy day just isn't gonna cut it).

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Debate the reasons if you desire. But I will bet anyone anything that the rivalry will not be as superb in the coming years as it has been over the past twenty. Which is why this year must be relished as much as possible. This will be the last time the game is played on the hallowed fourth Saturday of November until BYU and Utah become conference brothers again. I will enjoy the day to its fullest. I will revel in it. I will give thanks for it. And when next Thanksgiving comes around? 

Well, I think its obvious that I won't be nearly as thankful.

Post Script: If you've read this far you deserve a reward for your efforts. Click play for a movie documenting some of the greater moments of the rivalry. 

Touched by an Angel

We all seem to make mistakes, or so goes the saying anyway. Some of us make more than others. Of course by 'us', I mean me. There was the time I held hands wrong with my dream girl, Heather Wayman (things crashed after that). The time I told a kid in Chile he looked like Gollum - he cried (one of my poorer moments as a missionary). The day I laughed when my boss said her fiancé broke up with her (I thought she was joking - she wasn't). 

And then there was blog post number 57. 

In blog post 57 (The Depression Calculator) I made my case for why pro athletes deserve to be paid in millions while the rest of us normal humans get paid in crumbs. Among my words were the claims that professional jocks put their bodies on the line, perform under incredible pressure, and are simply irreplaceable due to being low in quantity. Wrote I of the final point, "Normal humans can be found anywhere, anytime. Superstar athletes - not so much."

Well, I was wrong about all that. Or at least most of that. Ok, I was half right, half wrong. I at least had the categories correct. People who sacrifice their body, perform under pressure, and are low in quantity (read 'rare or irreplaceable') do deserve to be paid huge amounts. Why wouldn't they? They do more, risk more, and are worth more than we the average people. But what I got wrong is the character in this story. It's not the pro athlete who best exemplifies those three attributes of money-makers.

It's the angels. Not the ones from Los Angeles, not the ones riding motorcycles, and definitely not the ones that guard people. I’m talking about the ones from Belarus, Florianopolis or any other exotic place you can think of (hint - they don't wear a lot of clothes).

Yup, you got it, the Victoria Secret kind.

When measured against the criteria applied to athletes, the Victoria Secret angels are found to be just as deserving of robust paychecks. They put their bodies on the line (vomiting daily can't be healthy for anyone), perform under immense pressure (imagine if you could be fired for gaining two pounds, or what it's like to negotiate a runway with 8 inch heels while being blinded by 1,000 lights), and they are definitely rare/irreplaceable. 

It's with regards to that final point that the angels actually trump pro athletes. While I initially assumed that sport stars were the rarest type of uber-talented person on the planet, it turns out that Victoria Secret employees are even harder to find. I thank the New York Times' Guy Trebay for bringing this aspect to my attention. In an article detailing the difficulties of finding said models, he points out that "those destined to be cast in a role of a Victoria's Secret angel are not drawn from the general population." Or in less friendly terms, normal humans need not apply. Edward Razek, CMO of Victoria Secret, provides an even harsher glimpse of reality by providing us numbers to consider. 

"What people don't realize is that (these girls) are rarer by far than superstar athletes. The number of people who can do this are probably under 100 in the world."

100 in the whole world!?! That might explain why I've never met one before. 

Let's do some math.

6.88 billion people in the world. 100 qualified women. That means these girls make up .000000014% of the world’s population. If these 100 were to be formed into a basketball league (an idea the WNBA might want to consider, by the way) they could fill 7 to 8 teams. If they were to form a football league (not to be confused with the already existent Lingerie Football League) they could make up two teams. Meanwhile the NBA currently has enough talent to field 30 teams; the NFL, 32 teams (31 if you don't count the Browns).

So while both the athletes and the angles risk their bodies and deal with major pressure, it's becoming clear which of these classes of superhuman is scarcer, and therefor more worthy of enormous earnings.

In fact it becomes a landslide in favor of the angles once Razek mentions that only 30 to 33 of these 100 women actually make the final cut of joining the Victoria Secret team.

How rare is it to become a Victoria Secret angel? Not even a hottie like Buffy can crack their prestigious ranks

In order to do so, one of these females fed off of nothing but "spinach, chard and kale," which seems to me a fate worse than anything sports stars have to endure to make it to the top. I don't even know what chard or  kale is. But if it's the only food you can eat to stay at 85 pounds, I imagine it's not that great. Most things associated with spinach aren't.

And so I apologize for my mistake. I said that sportsmen deserve to be paid in gold bars, but it's the angels who ought to be receiving bricks of cash. They are the humans that are truly unique, being so limited in number that they deserve colossal paychecks for doing what they do and being what they be.

 

And fortunately ... (drum-roll) ... these girls are very well compensated.

It takes LeBron James 5.1 minutes on the court to earn my annual salary. Wonder how long it takes Mrs. Bundchen?

The world's highest earning Victoria Secret model, Gisele Bundchen, beats Tiger, LeBron, Jeter, Manning and every other sports star for highest annual salary bringing in a sexy 25 million per year. The base salary of her NFL husband, Tom Brady? 7 million. Her sidekicks in seduction bring in markedly less, but still manage to massacre the average NFL, NBA, or MLB salary. Thus things are as they should be. Girls in underwear are earning more than sportsmen, not to mention less valuable persons like teachers, doctors, or those that defend our nation.

Thank goodness is all I can say. With the arrival of gay marriage, the death of the economy, and the disappearance of Bob Barker I was starting to get worried about this world.

At least one thing in it still makes sense.