The SportsMonday Column

T. J. Berka Teeing Off

It definitely was a better season than you think

But there is something just as good as seeing your team win. While reveling in a victory over Ohio State in the last game of the season is one of the highest moments in a Michigan fan's life, there is a moment that rivals a victory as far as the giddiness that it causes.

That extra-special moment? Seeing your archrivals fall flat on their faces.

This season has been extra special for the Wolverines. While the 1999 season isn't quite as exciting and memorable as the 1997 national championship season, it has had a lot of value.

And it's not due to anything that Michigan has done on the field.

Don't get me wrong, a 9-2 season isn't shabby by any means, even if it did involve a loss to Illinois. Neither is the likely invitation to the Orange or Fiesta Bowl, two rather appealing bowls.

Though the football team had a good year, Michigan fans are a pretty spoiled group, similar to teenage movie stars. They expect the Wolverines to be among the nation's elite, so this year's 9-2 record is seen as ordinary, as misguided as that may be.

But what is not ordinary - but makes for a fun-filled season - is the tragic but deserved fate of two of Michigan's most hated rivals, Ohio State and Notre Dame.

The fact that these teams have shown the football competence of 'The Little Giants' makes me want to dance a jig.

The Buckeyes, with their annoying helmet stickers and their twice-as-repulsive battery-throwing faithful, are enough to make a Michigan fan puke.

And Notre Dame, with their silly little green man jumping around and praising the luck of the Irish after harrowing wins over Navy, inspires some Michigan fans to boycott NBC.

So when the Wolverines beat the Buckeyes on Saturday, preventing Ohio State from winning the bag of potato chips and 40-ounce bottle of malt liquor the Motor City Bowl pays out to whoever wants to spend Christmas in Pontiac, my holiday cheer increased tenfold.

But honestly, this event was months in the making. When Ohio and Cincinnati - two teams that would be eliminated in the opening round of the Rhode Island high school playoffs - grabbed early leads on the Buckeyes, you could tell something was wrong.

As for Notre Dame, the luck of the Irish was about as useful for them as a wetsuit in the Sahara. Time and time again, the Fighting Irish would muddle around in the game's final moments by missing assignments and taking sacks.

So when I got home from Saturday's game and saw Boston College smacking Notre Dame around on television, my holiday cheer went to a level normally attained with the use of illicit drugs.

I even bought my friend a Mr. Spot's Chicken Philly due to my glee.

But the cheeriness and friendliness I have because of this great event does have its drawbacks. Because I was feeling like a nice guy, I figured that the Ohio State and Notre Dame fans deserved some sort of prize for watching their team clown around for three months.

So after much deliberation, I decided to repay these horribly misguided, but loyal, fans. This prize, I figured, would to have the Fighting Irish and Buckeyes joust in their very own bowl.

I realize that there are plenty of useless bowls already out there and the introduction of a bowl featuring two sorry national pretenders would dilute an already saturated market.

Therefore, I decided to put this showcase game in an extravagant location. With Miami, New Orleans, San Antonio and Los Angeles already taken, I thought that Gary, Ind. could be a prime location.

I also figured that this game would need to have a catchy name and a highly respected corporate sponsor to garner the interest of the nation.

So the Camel Lights Smoke Bowl is born.

Thanks to the lack of clean air in northwestern Indiana, it will be easy for the city to acclimate itself into the bowl's concept.

To attract television viewers, the Smoke Bowl will jazz things up. Instead of flipping a coin at the beginning of the game, the captains of Ohio State and Notre Dame will engage in a shoot. So instead of calling heads or tails, the captains will be doing paper, rock, or scissors.

Also, when one team scores, an assistant coach from the other team is picked from the sidelines and brought to the middle of the field. After that, the mascot from the scoring team flogs the unlucky coach unmercifully with a crowbar.

OK, so maybe I'm not the nicest guy in the world. But having the Buckeyes and Fighting Irish shut out of the bowl season brings joy to all the world.

- T.J. Berka can't believe the good fortune that has graced this football season. He can be reached at berkat@umich.edu

11-22-99