No quick fixes for Wolverines

ON FOOTBALL

This loss was much more disturbing. Much more revealing. Again... much more disturbing.

A week ago, when Michigan lost 34-32 to Appalachian State, the Wolverines could chalk it up as, yes, an upset. They could regress that they weren't prepared, that they were caught by surprise, that they made too many of those all-too-familiar first-game mistakes.

And as lame as those excuses were, many Michigan fans bought them. Yes, of course, everyone realized that is was absolutely ludicrous for a team to not be prepared to play after eight months to get ready. But this gave us an opportunity to think Michigan is a good team that played one horrible game.

Can't say that anymore. No way, no how.

The Michigan team we saw on Saturday was flat out bad. The worst team on the field by far. Forget the pregame line or the location of the contest. Oregon's 39-7 spanking of the Wolverines — which could have, should have been a lot worse — was no upset, folks.

Call it a good (likely to be) Top 25 team beating up on a (maybe) top 50 team. Emphasis on "maybe."

The Ducks' dismantling of the Wolverines exposed several flaws with this group of Wolverines. Let's perform a physical:

The defense
Forget learning how to combat the vaunted spread offense. This group of Wolverines needs to go back to first grade.

Yes, the basics.

Tackling. Tackling. Tackling.

I didn't see all of the first two games — just ugly bits and pieces — so I wasn't able to tally all the missed tackles, but let me humor you with a guess.

Um, 139?

Seriously. There have been several plays on which Michigan has missed five or sick tackles. That's not good when you have a good defense (last year). That's asking for trouble when you have a mediocre defense (which is being kind to this season's unit).

I'm sure you've heard about/seen the numbers. But in case you haven't, here's a refresher:

624 — yards piled up by Oregon, the second-most against Michigan (lowly Northwestern gained 654 yards in a 54-51 win in 2000).

390 — yards the Ducks gained during the first half (gasp... game) Saturday, when Oregon put together a comfortable 32-7 cushion.

46, 61, 85 — yards of the three Oregon touchdown passes. 'Nuff said.

Which brings me to my next point: Big Plays. This isn't a new symptom, either. Whenever the Wolverines are beat — which, I must admit, happens as often birds fly these days — they give up large scoring plays. Just look at their last four losses (you don't have to go back very far).

Especially when you have a defense not big on talented playmakers, you've got to make the offense earn its points. Leave the door open for a player to fumble, a QB to toss an interception. Michigan hasn't done that the first two weeks.

But, you see, here's the problem with that. Michigan's defenders — especially up front — are not in great shape. They fatigue quickly (and the offense doesn't help when it goes three-and-out).

It was inevitable that the Ducks would score Saturday after a very, very quick Michigan offensive series late in the second quarter. Sure enough, on the next play Ducks' QB Dennis Dixon threw that 61-yard touchdown score, giving Oregon that 32-7 lead that basically sealed Michigan's 0-2 package.

After the game, there was no talk about the Wolverines not understanding the spread offense. Cornerback Donovan Warren said, in the Ann Arbor News, "I feel they just executed better than our defense."

Yeah, much better. Blame Michigan's defensive struggles on Lloyd Carr and Ron English's inability if you want to. But right now the unit's biggest problem is a lack of execution and conditioning.

All Michigan fans can hope for is that the Wolverines go back to the basics this week in practice. And that starts with, tackling, tackling, tackling.

The offense
As disappointing as the defense was against the Ducks, I honestly thought the game would be decided in the 30s. In other words, I didn't think 39 points by Oregon would necessarily mean a blowout win.

I also didn't think Michigan's offense would be as sloppy as it was. And again, the main problem was a lack of execution.

Dropped balls. Turnovers. Penalties.

It wasn't like Michigan couldn't move the ball in the first half Saturday (we're not counting the sans-Chad Henne second half). The Wolverines suffered just one three-and-out with Henne at the helm. Otherwise they moved the ball. But consider how they finished drives:

Interception. Fumble. Missed field goal. Turnover on downs. Punt from the Oregon 39-yard line.

Five different Michigan treks into Oregon territory ended in the results above. Michigan fell apart when it could smell the end zone, or at least three points and momentum. It stopped executing for a play — or two, or three — which is inexcusable for one of the nation's top programs.

Michigan suffered from obvious lapses in concentration. Mario Manningham caught eight passes for 117 yards, but he should have had another four or five catches. He gave backup quarterback Ryan Mallett the freshman's first career INT when a ball glanced off his hands. That's unacceptable for purportedly one of the country's best WRs.

The only consistents in Michigan's supposed explosive offense are the blocking of Jake Long and the running/blocking/whatever else he does of running back Mike Hart. Both players are great. Both are leaders. In fact, Hart stepped up, guaranteeing a win against Notre Dame on Saturday.

But they are only two players. An offense can't be effective if Hart steps out for one play only to stay on the sidelines because of a Carlos Brown fumble.

Yes, the Wolverines need to ride the strong shoulders of Hart more in the weeks to come — I'm talking 30 carries a game — especially with Henne, according to Carr, out against the Fighting Irish. But there will be passing downs and there will be downs on which the indomitable Hart needs a breather.

Michigan has to be productive on those plays as well.

Execution. Execution. Execution.

So what now?
Ain't this something? After Penn State pulled away from Notre Dame for a 31-10 win in Happy Valley, Saturday evening marked the first time both Michigan and the Fighting Irish have been 0-2.

Thankfully for them, they'll meet Saturday in the Big House on ABC. And one team will exit with a victory... I think.

Don't expect a quick turnaround by Michigan in this one (just as, in retrospect, it was foolish to think the Wolverines would pull a 360 against the Ducks). With Henne out, the offense is going to rest on the little big man, the man named Hart. If Carr is smart, he'll give the ball to Hart until the running back's legs stop churning.

He's the one sure thing right now for Michigan. It's too bad he's likely out of the Heisman Trophy race because of Michigan's inability to play football.

A magic trick won't turn these Wolverines around. Neither will a coaching change (at least for now; maybe after the season, Carr will realize that retirement doesn't appear to be a bad option). The one thing the Wolverines can do to appease their fans in the coming weeks is play hard-nosed, fundamentally strong football.

Wrap up when tackling. Hold on when catching. Hold on when running.

Let's be honest. Ranking Michigan No. 5 in the preseason was a mistake. Minus last year's big-name defenders, this squad was at best No. 15 in the country. No better. They're just another example of why the preseason rankings should be scrapped (start them after the first week).

But that won't make any Michigan fan/critic any less peeved. What it comes down to is execution on the field.

And that's a category in which you can positively give Michigan an "F" after two morbid weeks.

NFL Week 1 picks

This is the other me. Not the guy who termed himself "uneducated" in making his 2007 predictions for the NFL. Call me Schwab Jr., baby! I'm ready to predict every NFL game correctly. I'm ready to steal the real Schwab's throne. With that said and the clock ticking on opening night, here are my Week 1 gems:

Colts 31, Saints 27: What a game to begin the season.
Eagles 28, Packers 21: McNabb is back, my friends.
Texans 17, Chiefs 13: Super Bowl, huh, L.J.?
Broncos 24, Bills 17: It's not cold yet in Buffalo.
Browns 20, Steelers 12: Don't get the Dog Pound started...
Rams 34, Panthers 21: One of league's best offenses takes off.
Vikings 17, Falcons 9: Can you say, "UGLY?"
Patriots 24, Jets 21: One of Sunday's best games.
Redskins 20, Dolphins 9: Don't waste your afternoon watching this one.
Titans 21, Jaguars 14: Don't doubt Vince Young's ability (or heart).
Chargers 21, Bears 17: Possible Super Bowl preview lives up to hype.
Seahawks 23, Bucs 10: Not a pleasant start for Jeff Garcia.
Lions 26, Raiders 21: Enjoy the Ws while you can get 'em, Lions.
Cowboys 34, Giants 14: An absolute romp.
Ravens 16, Bengals 14: Last-second FG wins it for Baltimore.
Cardinals 28, 49ers 21: Upset special by Leinart n' Company.

Forget the "rust factor." I'm hoping for 14 out of 16. Check back with me Tuesday morning, folks.

My NFL Preview

ON FOOTBALL

To avoid ridicule (at least for now; wait until my picks prove to be painfully wrong), I have decided to patch together a shaky NFL preview (one of just 21,493 on the Internet) here at the last minute.

I won't bother you with analysis, either. No injury prospectus. No "surprise performer" harbingers.

Nope, what follows are the predictions — and only the predictions. Maybe a crass comment thrown in here or there.

Give me some feedback. Let me know how wrong I am. I won't take offense.

NATIONAL FOOTBALL CONFERENCE

NFC North
1, Chicago 12-4
2, Green Bay 8-8
3, Detroit 6-10
4, Minnesota 5-11
Crass comment: What an awful division. The Bears could take a month off and still win.

NFC East
1, Philly 10-6
2, Dallas 10-6*
3, N.Y. Giants 6-10
4, Washington 6-10
Crass comment: Here's to hoping Donovan McNabb stays healthy, T.O. keeps his mouth shut and Tiki stops ripping on his old team (they've got it bad enough, Tiki!).

NFC South
1, New Orleans 11-5
2, Carolina 9-7*
3, Tampa Bay 6-10
4, Atlanta 4-12
Crass comment: Hey, now that Sports Illustrated has finally not picked the Panthers to win the Super Bowl, maybe they'll make the playoffs.

NFC West
1, St. Louis 10-6
2, Seattle 9-7
3, San Francisco 8-8
4, Arizona 7-9
Crass comment: I'll be honest. I flipped coins to pick this winner. Who really knows? Whichever team's top running back stays healthy will win.

*=wild card team

AMERICAN FOOTBALL CONFERENCE

AFC East
1, New England 12-4
2, N.Y. Jets 10-6
3, Buffalo 7-9
4, Miami 5-11
Crass comment: I'll run around the neighborhood naked if Trent Green plays more than half the season for the Dolphins.

AFC North
1, Baltimore 11-5
2, Cincinnati 10-6*
3, Pittsburgh 8-8
4, Cleveland 5-11
Crass comment: Poor Brady Quinn. He'll probably get thrown into the game against Baltimore and receive a friendly greeting from Ray Lewis. Ouch!

AFC South
1, Indianapolis 12-4
2, Tennessee 9-7
3, Jacksonville 7-9
4, Houston 5-11
Crass comment: I love how people keep doubting Vince Young. Keep it up, guys. He'll just continue to prove you all wrong.

AFC West
1, San Diego 11-5
2, Denver 10-6*
3, Kansas City 6-10
4, Oakland 4-12
Crass comment: Can you believe Larry Johnson mentioned the words "Super Bowl" after signing that new contract? Um, it's a team game, L.J.

*=wild card teams

PLAYOFFS

NATIONAL FOOTBALL CONFERENCE

Wild Card Round
Philly def. Carolina
St. Louis def. Dallas
Divisional Round
Chicago def. St. Louis
Philly def. New Orleans
NFC Championship
Chicago def. Philly

AMERICAN FOOTBALL CONFERENCE

Wild Card Round
Baltimore def. Denver
San Diego def. Cincinnati
Divisional Round
New England def. Baltimore
Indianapolis def. San Diego
AFC Championship
New England def. Indianapolis

SUPER BOWL
New England 24, Chicago 16: Poor Bears. With Rex at the helm, they're becoming the second coming of the 1990s Bills.

He's no Federer, but "Ferrer" is (kinda) close

ON TENNIS

Anyone who says tennis is not an athletic sport, did not stay up past their bedtime Tuesday night to watch the fourth round U.S. Open match between No. 2 seed Rafael Nadal and fellow Spaniard David Ferrer.

The two battled back and forth, neither giving an inch. I watched the first set at work, drove an hour home, fixed myself a late chicken-and-corn hot plate, and the third set was just beginning. It would be another two hours before the four-set match ended at 2 a.m. EST.

In all, the match took three and a half hours. And, remember, the commercial breaks in tennis are harmlessly short (not always to the players' liking). Nadal and Ferrer were on the court for a good three hours.

Finally, with both players' shirts and shorts soaked through with sweat, Ferrer finished off the upset — 6-7(3), 6-4, 7-6(4), 6-2 — when Nadal's lob sailed long. There would be no Federer-Nadal Part III in Flushing Meadows. Rather, the always-on-his-tiptoes Ferrer advanced to the quarterfinals, where he'll face Juan Ignacio Chela, who was a five-set winner Tuesday.

Somehow, I surmise, both players will summon up enough energy to put on a show when they meet Thursday. Which ain't a bad feat, considering the energy used Tuesday/early Wednesday.

With the remaining fans beginning to yawn and the announcers — I'm sure — dreading the beginning of Wednesday's long day of coverage less than 10 hours away, Ferrer unseated Nadal as one of the ATP Tour's most energetic, peripatetic players.

Ferrer showed absolutely no signs of fatiguing as the new day dawned and his opponent — the usually invincible Nadal — called for a trainer to massage a finger and indicated with body language that his hamstrings weren't right.

Ferrer bounced around while awaiting each serve from Nadal, then outhustled his fellow countryman from side to side, reaching balls that normally we only expect the quick-as-lightning Nadal to get to.

At the completion of the marathon, there was nothing to say except that Ferrer had been the better, quicker player and deserved to be moving on. And if he plays like he did Tuesday night in the quarterfinals and semifinals, could it be?

Federer vs. Ferrer in the final Sunday afternoon?

How cool would that be?

I'm sure Ferrer would muster up plenty of energy for that matchup.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that he's in impeccable shape.

U.S. Open lives up to the hype

ON TENNIS

There were plenty of ways I could have spent my Labor Day. You know, the traditional barbecue. Or maybe a canoe trip down the Huron River.

I could have watched some dramatic golf (wayta go, Lefty!). Or enjoyed a Cubs' loss (don't all of us outside of Cubs Nation revel in their defeats?).

But, alas, I was transfixed by tennis all day. No barbecuing. No canoing. No watching golf or baseball.

Thesis statement: Tennis rules the sports-watching section of my life right now.

Why? Because it is simply the best sport being played at the moment. Jabber all you want about the drama of college football (yes, the end of the Michigan-Appalachian State game was exciting). Dissect the upcoming NFL season all you want (no, the Lions aren't going to be good). Predict the result of baseball's pennant races (yes, the Tigers are probably done).

A lot is going on. But for the next six days, the only must on my sports-watching calender is the U.S. Open.

You want drama? You saw it Monday afternoon when fiery American James Blake and German Tommy Haas engaged in a five-set battle full of spirited volleys and back-and-forth action. I sat on the edge of my futon as Haas fought off three match points — showing absolutely no nervousness with each crisp forehand or backhand — before finally dispelling Blake in a tiebreaker (think overtime is nerveracking? A play-to-seven, win-by-two ain't bad, either).

You want impeccable play? That was reserved for Monday night, when Roger Federer, the most dominant athlete I know about (yes, he's better than Tiger), took on Feliciano Lopez. I wanted to see perfection so badly that when the digital cable refused to cooperate and let CNBC work, I decided to watch the webcast on my tiny Apple laptop.

When the streaming began, Federer — miraculously — was down a set to Lopez, whom, the announcers made sure to mention, was playing the absolute best tennis of his life. But it didn't last long. After surviving a difficult second set — showing his resolve in holding off the feisty Spaniard — Federer blew him away in the third set (6-1) and won 6-4 in a never-in-doubt final set.

Federer was so good, he won 35 consecutive points on serve after falling behind 0-40 in the first game of the third set. Yes, clap your hands in applause. If it were anybody else, it would be a mind boggling feat. But it was Federer. And it was amazing (but not that surprising).

Time after time, Federer hit "how'd he do that?" backhands either up the line or cross court, stunning a net-charging Lopez. All Lopez could do each time was shake his head in disbelief. If it weren't pitch black outside, I would have scampered outside after the match to try to emulate The Man — in vain, of course.

Maybe the most overlooked great part of tennis right now is that it's the lone sport in which the outcome is based almost entirely on the participants' actions. With the replay system in place at Flushing Meadows, players — with their keen eyes — can review calls they disagree with. And usually they're right about the challenges they make. But judges get 97 percent of the calls right, and you rarely see arguments between players and judges.

Additionally, reviews take a mere 10 seconds compared to the 3 to 5 minutes a football review takes. And even many football reviews seem flawed, as I witnessed late Labor Day night after the tennis was complete.

Florida State was trailing Clemson by six points in the final seconds when the Seminoles appeared to complete a pass down the sideline with 1 or 2 seconds remaining. However, the pass was ruled incomplete and the slooooooow Clemson timekeepers let the clock expire. A 4-minute delay, which forced the overly excited Clemson students to back off the field, didn't change the mind of the officials (who must have had a late dinner date scheduled, or something).

You just don't see that kind of stuff in tennis. Especially Grand Slam tennis.

It's the best sports spectacle on TV right now. Don't even talk to me about golf (where you can see a guy hit a shot... and then see where it lands) on TV. Only bass fishing is worse, and the spelling bee is better.

Watching football on the tube is great, but it still doesn't compare to being in attendance at a game, where you can see the entire field. And commercial length during football games is inane (the Michigan fans were ready to sling-shot rocks at the man in the red hat who stood on the field during commercials the other day).

Watching baseball on TV is great... if you have something else to do simultaneously (open mail, cuddle with your honey, pet the dog). Otherwise, you come to despise the announcers, who have to come up with mundane anecdotes to fill the between-pitches time — especially if old, deliberate pitchers are on the mound.

But tennis? Well, I have zero complaints. You can see the entire court. There are only brief breaks between points. Commercial breaks aren't long enough to make some toast. And the suspense — especially during night matches, when the Arthur Ashe Stadium crowd gets into it — make you feel like you're on top of the action (especially, I would surmise, if you've got one of those flat-panel TVs or whatever they're called).

Perhaps most importantly, Grand Slam tennis' appeal is its purity. There are no dark clouds surrounding the sport or its players. Just the matches. Just the sweat. Just the competition.

No steroids. No taking advantage of amateurs by universities and television networks. No dogfighting. No crooked judges. You know the stories.

In the next five days, I will watch Serena vs. Justine Part IV. I'll find out if Nadal can overcome his knee injury to set up Federer vs. Nadal Part III. Or, maybe, Roddick vs. Federer will provide for some drama before we get to that final Sunday.

Sure, there's a 99 percent chance Federer will make the final, but for some reason, that predictable outcome can't inhibit me from watching each match, each game, each point. From watching a match like Haas-Blake on Monday, because even though Blake lost, he should excite American tennis fans (he's got a lot of potential; not to mention grit).

A week from now, I'll be talking football. Lots of football. Baseball, too, will be a hot topic of conversation.

But right now, it's all about the Grand Slam tennis. I've got to enjoy it while it lasts.

Appalachian State Miracle

I was a witness.

Witnissing history at the Big House

ON FOOTBALL

As I stood in row 39 of section 15, I couldn't believe the view below me. The large throng of Maize n' Blue helmets were headed toward the tunnel on the east side of the stadium as if they were being chased by rabid boars. Meanwhile, across the field turf, players in white jerseys celebrated in many different fashions.

Some lay down. Some danced with the cheerleaders (seriously). Some pointed to people in the close-to-empty stands.

And then, in a quick minute, they all gravitated to the big, block "M" at the 50-yard to consider their feat together.

They had just knocked off the No. 5 team in the country. They had just become the first Subdivision college football team (I know, the NCAA is beyond inane with its titles) to beat a Division 1 squad ranked in the Top 25.

Appalachian State 34, Michigan 32.

A tough ticket
Now I understand why. Now I know why it took my boy, Tyler, and I an entire half of football to find two cheap tickets to a game against a supposed inferior opponent.

In past years, I've never had a problem finding a pair of $10 tickets to Michigan games. Among my best buys — two second-row seats to the first ever overtime game at the Big House against Penn State in 2002 (great game).

Additionally, there have been just two games which I've failed to scalp tickets for. The 1997 Ohio State game (Woodson, national championship, etc.). And a Michigan State game about five years ago (and that was only because my friend busted his ankle running to catch a scalper and couldn't walk for weeks afterward).

So I was shocked when Ty and I couldn't find two tickets for $20. And, boy, did we have an adventure going after tickets.

We must have walked about five miles within the two hours we spent trying to locate a pair. We even strolled all the way to Washtenaw Dairy to buy some of Ann Arbor's finest ice cream late in the first quarter (while Ann Arbor's finest football team was starting to travel down a rocky road).

At one point we had three tickets, but it turned out that two of them had already been used (scammers!) and the other one was a student ticket, which wouldn't get either of us inside the stadium no matter how long we begged the stiff U-M ushers.

At one point, Ty had a ticket and was heading inside — to later meet up with me. But when he tried to enter, he was turned away again. It was yet another used ticket.

At 1:30 p.m. EST, an hour and a half after the game began, we found ourselves back at square one (minus $4.50 for the ice cream).

Meanwhile, what was transpiring inside the stadium had grabbed our attention. A disgusted pair of Michigan fans exited the Big House cursing to themselves. "What's the score," I asked? They admitted that it was 28-14... Appalachian State.

Woe, I thought. I knew it was just the second quarter. That within 15 minutes (or another mile of walking for Ty and I), the Wolverines could be back on top. But still. Something crazy was going down. This only further dedicated me to finding us those hard-to-come-by tickets. I had an inkling that we weren't just going to witness another Michigan massacre.

The final minutes
And, sure enough, what we bore witness to will never be forgotten in Boone, N.C. — or anywhere, for that matter.

We finally coerced a man on a bike — wearing a yellow shirt and sporting some dirty teeth — to sell us two $10 tickets, and as hundreds of Michigan fans exited the stadium at halftime (no joke), we entered.

We made it to our seats — located behind the south end zone — about 50 seconds into the third quarter and proceeded to stand for much of the final 29 minutes, 10 seconds of history.

What's funny is that I never actually believed the Mountaineers were going to pull off the monumental upset until they kicked the winning field goal with 26 seconds remaining. For some reason (which didn't include the product Michigan was putting forth on the field), I never felt the upset would be completed.

Especially not after Mike Hart zig-zagged his way across the field for a 54-yard score (he actually ran about 101 yards) followed by a Michigan interception. Folks around us left their seats and headed up the aisles, figuring an ugly, but season-saving win was guaranteed. Or maybe they could sense the impending collapse and didn't want to bear witness to it.

I, for one, was a Michigan fan who welcomed the final-minute drama. I figured Ty and I deserved a dramatic ending for the two hours spent walking around the Big House with two fingers pointed to the sky (indicating the number of tickets we needed). Even in my yellow Michigan No. 2 jersey, part of me wanted the Mountaineers to pull off the impossible. Part of me wanted to witness history.

As the Mountaineers drove the ball down the field in the waning seconds, my heart beat faster and faster. Ty, an Illinois fan, was pulling for the upset, and I found myself tacitly wishing the same outcome (although I continued to cheer for Michigan; I know, it doesn't make much sense).

As I stood on the balls of my feet, anticipating but not knowing the end result, I remembered something my father had told me several years ago after Michigan had been upset by Northwest. He had said, "Think of how happy the Northwestern fans must be." Now, I was considering how great an Appalachian State victory would be for its fans and the small town of Boone (which I actually lived in with my parents for a few months as a young kid).

They would never forget an Appalachian State win over Michigan. No matter the losses and struggles in the years to come, a "W" over the mighty Wolverines would stay with them for eternity. That sounded more appealing to me than another lackluster Michigan victory. Plus, it would give writers a topic to scribe about for days to come.

Yet, when Mario Manningham made a great catch to put the Wolverines within field goal range in the final seconds, I pumped my fist in the air. I am, after all, a lifelong Michigan fan. A loss to a FCS school would be embarrassing.

And that's how I arrived at the moment of fate. Both teams' destinies riding on the leg of a college kid. Except that they didn't. U-M place-kicker Jason Gingell never had a chance at converting the 37-yard field goal attempt because Corey Lynch invaded Michigan's backfield, practically swallowing up the ball before running it almost back to our end zone.

He proceeded to collapse in exhaustion and exultation. The clock read 0:00. The scoreboard read, Appalachian State 34, Michigan 32.

All around me, people sat stunned, heads in hands, many cursing, some on the brink of tears, others looking stoically toward the blue sky as if to ask, "What just happened on a day as picture-perfect beautiful as today?"

Ty and I were fully aware of what had just occurred beneath us. Which is why we stayed inside the stadium for a good 15 minutes afterward, soaking up the stunned atmosphere (and I thought the Big House was quiet after wins).

As we exited, I picked up a game program and handed it to Ty. "This is a game you'll never forget," I told him. "You need a souvenir."

I wasn't saying that because it was Ty's first visit to the Big House. No, a much bigger first had taken place before our bewildered eyes.

Something worth much more than the $10 price of admission.