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Look, it wasn’t pretty. There’s no way around that.
But if you think it’s just about 37-3, brother…I don’t know what to tell you. Take 37 and 3. What does that tell you?
Well, for starters, 3+7+3 is 13, the unluckiest of numbers. You can’t win unless you’re lucky, and we all know the easiest way to get lucky is to have a fat little girlfriend. But when you’re staring at 13, man, hit or stay, it don’t matter.
Also, I don’t think I need to tell you that Angel 373 is a divine communication reminding you to visit your family. Did we do that? No, we were on the road. You can’t win if you’re spitting in God’s eye. Odysseus knew that, King David knew it, the Angel Moroni knew it. Anywhere you go, any culture in this galaxy or the next, you’re not going to get anywhere sticking it to the Almighty.
I mean, 373 is a fractal star, the likes of which ancient pirates likely used to navigate the treacherous shores of the Caribbean. Am I suggesting that these rum-running pirates also relied on the guidance of the Loup-Garou or Ligahoo, or whatever you want to call it? Of course I am. You need a shape-shifter on your side if you want to win a road game on Friday night in the PAC-12. Jock Sutherland knew it, Hal Mumme knew it, Hal Needham knew it, and you guys should know it if you’re on the college football beat. It’s your job, not mine. Anyway, they had one and we didn’t, it’s that simple.
Where does this put us, in terms of our goals for the season? Still on track. We can still win the PAC-12, we can still make the Rose Bowl, we can still get to the bottom of the Dyatlov Pass Incident. It’s all there, right in front of us. We just gotta suit up and execute.
All I need’s a goddamn quarterback and a little peace and quiet. I tell ya, I’ve locked Craig James’s entire family in a storage shed, and they can make a most unholy racket. You wouldn’t think they’d have it in them after 72 hours.
Oh good. It stopped.