Gee, kids, how’s the big game with Cincinnati going?
Maybe Rutgers University will win big. Maybe it’ll lose big. Maybe the earth will open up and swallow both teams at the fifty-yard line and the question of What Might Have Happened On That Magic Night will never be answered.
No matter what happens, the big-time football remains a colossal boondoggle, and the justifications being offered for squandering millions on this nonsense convince me of nothing except this – if the Human Genome Project wants to discover a self-delusion gene, it should take blood samples from members of the Rutgers University administration and the Board of Governors.
I’m glad to see that the lonely band of heretics called Rutgers 1000 is more or less spontaneously reconstituting itself, despite the fact that the Scarlet Knights winning a few games has suddenly made the team into a sacred cow. (For purposes of disclosure, I should note that I took two of William Dowling’s classes back in my bright college days, and I know no finer English professor.)