Sports talk: Goblins influence college football strategy at times

The days which draw near the feast of Samhain, or Halloween, often prompt us to paint earthly and explainable happenings with a dark, sinister color.

In keeping with the spirit of the scary season, we'll try to expound on a theory which I have developed.

Next time that you are watching a college football game that has turned into a donnybrook or a rout of sorts, try something: turn off the lights in the room, and turn down the volume on the television set.

Now, look very closely at the head coach of the team which happens to be on the happy end of the 45-point pasting. Check the shoulder of Coach Happy and you'll see it.

There it is.

Why, it's a goblin! Replete with sharp, pointy teeth and glowing red eyes. And in his squat, little ugly way, he is perched on the coach's shoulder whispering malicious notions in his ear.

"Hey coach, spank another touchdown in there on these poor saps. Look at how weak and defenseless they are! Come on, throw the ball! You'll feel good about it when it is over!"

Coach Happy is suddenly overcome with a disoriented feeling.

He grabs the headset from an assistant, and much to the horror of everyone in the stadium changes the offensive play.

Deep post pattern.

Hey coach, what gives? That 45-point lead not safe with two minutes left in the game?

Well, no, 'cause that damn goblin made me do it.

A good storyline for a future episode of the "X-Files" maybe, but there has to be a more objective explanation to why there are so many blowouts in the college game and why so many coaches are seemingly advocating the lopsided lambasting.

On the weekend of Sept. 16, there was an offensive explosion in college football. The top seven teams in the Associated Press poll averaged 63 points with a victory margin of more than 40 points.

Resulting was a cry from many corners that coaches were intentionally piling up points late in games to strengthen their respective teams' poll positions.

Stoking the already hot flames of controversy was a livid coach Fred Goldsmith. The coach of the Duke Blue Devils was fuming after Bobby Bowden of the Florida State Seminoles laid a 77-17 thrashing on his team. Goldsmith felt that Bowden intentionally ran up the score, and he publicly berated the "river boat gambler" for doing so.

In response, Bowden sent an uncharacteristic letter of apology to Goldsmith.

Uncharacteristic because Bowden has gone on record in the past stating that it isn't his job to keep the score down. Quite the contrary, it is his job to put as many points on the board as possible. Overload the circuits on the screen.

Are we to subscribe to this philosophy, or do we cling to the belief that once a game is firmly in hand, a coach should call off the dogs?

Personally, this question leaves me with a feeling of ambivalence.

Football is a game predicated on violent collisions and swift couriers who, objectively, want to take the ball into the end zone as often as possible. It doesn't inspire thoughts of benevolence.

So is it fair for us to expect teams to back off once they have a game in hand?

We as fans want the teams we cheer for to have that "killer instinct": to finish teams off when the opportunity arises. Put them away.

We want teams to hunt down the opposition with the zeal of Dobermans going after a fresh kill, but only until the game is out of reach.

This begs that we ask the question: how do we define putting a team away?

• 20 points?
• 30 points?
• 50 points?

Last year, the team for which I have a profound affinity happened to be in control of a game with a 24-point lead. Notre Dame had possession of the ball as the clock was winding down.

Much to my disbelief, Lou Holtz called a pass play that resulted in a touchdown.

I admit to tossing a pretzel in disgust and berating the act as running up the score.

But then again, I was the same guy who two quarters earlier had knocked the pretzel dish over as I bemoaned the fact that the Irish had not yet put their overmatched opponent away.

Therein lies the ambivalence. We demand that teams light up the scoreboard, only to slough it off a tad once the game is perceived to be out of reach.

On one hand, we certainly all realize that if the barometer of success lies in beating the tar out of overmatched opponents to impress pollsters, then that is wrong.

But on the other hand, coaches are paid to win games and championships, and the road to that glory is lined with pollsters.

Sure, coaches are cognizant of their team's rankings, no matter what they say.

We as fans sure are, so why wouldn't THEY be?

Maybe they have to start looking at the validity of playing obvious mismatches, which will result in such lopsided victories, therefore inviting a hail of criticism when a team goes out and does its job and clobbers the other team.

Of course, that leads to a road less traveled nowadays. It is suicidal to load up schedules with land mines of seventh- or eighth-ranked teams.

So now you can get a sense that the issue of one-sided games isn't as simplistic as addressing whether or not a coach stuffed in a late TD to embarrass someone or not.

But keep it in perspective.

As long as two teams take the field, there will be lopsided games, and all of the controversial garnishing that accompany them.

And who knows, maybe we will see agents Mulder and Scully lurking around darkened college football stadiums, in search of a hobgoblin who incites such one-sided carnage.

Stay tuned, and Happy Halloween.