Tremble At The Might Of Schiano, Goalposts Of New Jersey
Unfortunately, Wikipedia reveals that Rutgers Stadium is a relatively new edifice. Erected in 1994, it has all the rich tradition of the Jacksonville Jaguars. But the field was used as far back as 1938, and if you squint hard and suspend your disbelief real good you can carefully construct a world in which one set of goalposts spans the history of Rutgers football and, by virtue of the school's 1869 kickoff against Princeton, the history of the whole grand enterprise of college football itself. Until the arrival of Greg Schiano, they were the safest goalposts in all the land.
These goalposts are no more. One of them received Jeremy Ito's SHOCKING INCREDIBLE MISS -- no, wait, that guy was offsides -- 28-yard world-inverter of a field goal and released a torrent of bewildered, yelping humanity across a field that had seen many things, most of them the precise opposite of this. And as long as we're inventing fictional goalposts we may as well personify them and give them a sophisticated language based on the flapping of their little orange tassels and the glinting of light off their surfaces, and have one say to the other "we had a good run." They glint at each other. No further words are passed, but their abiding and obviously unconsummated love flaps in their tassels as the world goes dark. There, there. Now they lay in state upon the Rutgers Stadium turf.
How? I still have no idea.
The Rutgers defense looked like someone constructed it by booting up the old Nintendo version of Ice Hockey and picking eleven medium-sized guys. Seemingly identical in size, shape, and dogged determination to find the ballcarrier either five yards behind the line of scrimmage or not at all, dammit, the Rutgers defenders proved confusing to all involved -- is that 230-pound guy a defensive end? A linebacker? A safety? The mascot? -- but especially the Louisville offensive line. The game ended on an appropriate note when some guy who could have played virtually any position but was definitely fast met another completely-indistinguishable-but-fast guy at Brian Brohm. Sack. Game over. All due respect to Georgia Tech, but if bees played football they'd play it like Rutgers: tiny, hive-minded, and seriously pissed off.
Somehow this took one of the nation's most explosive offenses and limited them to 17 points, zero in the last two-thirds of the game. Hell, after Louisville reached 25 they hardly got a first down, let alone points. Brian Brohm looked... well... pretty much exactly like Brady Quinn did against Michigan. That says it all, doesn't it?
There was an offensive side to this game, too: Teel throwing just enough passes that broke wide open after the catch, Ray Rice and Brian Leonard (seriously, Brian Leonard... can we get this guy a parade or something?), some true freshman loping downfield. But we knew Rutgers could do some running and Louisville could cede some major chunks. But eleven insects against the mighty Brohm 3000? If they made a movie, you'd pan it. If you made Rutgers your dynasty in NCAA and pulled this off, you'd bump the difficulty level. But it happened. It's real. Just don't expect anyone to believe it until sometime next week.
One more thing: anyone whose takeaway lesson from this is "The Big East sucks" or to start campaign against a Rutgers title game bid sucks and fails at college football. Please look into an NFL team. And sterilization.