I’ve never been a coach of any sport at any level, and so I readily admit that I am inexpert in this matter about which I have a long-held theory. Still, in spite of my lack of qualification, I am confident. Indeed, I am even confident that my theory would apply effectively to many other areas of life beyond just sports.
In the wake of the Badgers’ terribly disappointing Rose Bowl appearance, I am feeling very frustrated. I find myself pacing around the house, muttering about how my theory was under-employed.
So what is this simple and universal bit of golden wisdom? Just this: Ask yourself what the other team does not want you to do, and then do that.
Do they hope that you’ll pass? Then run. Do they hope that you’ll settle for a field goal? Then go for a first down. Do they hope that you’ll kick it to such-and-such a return guy? Then kick it away from him.
I believe play-calling should be just that simple. And, really, just that obnoxious.
As I indicated above, I think the principle applies beyond sports.
Which candidate does the other party hope you’ll end up nominating? Make sure you choose someone else.
What does the enemy general, the business competitor, the personal rival hope that you’ll do? Do the other thing.
More significantly still, what does the Devil want you to do? Do the opposite. What does he not want you to do? Do that every day. It’s just that simple.
Well, back to football…
I went into Saturday’s Rose Bowl full of anticipation. Having watched the Badgers dominate other teams on the ground all year, I felt certain that they could have their way with the undersized Horned Frogs. Yet by the time the game was finished, what had we done? We had lost the game on a passing play.
Since when can these Badgers not make 3 yards on the ground when they are determined to do it? Yet when the game was on the line, and it all came down to the two-point conversion, we tried to throw the ball for three yards.
I have nothing against Scott Tolzien -- I think he’s been great. But everyone knows that a passing play within the 5-yard-line is a crowded environment in which to throw the ball. And if we could have split open the minds of the TCU coaching staff to see what they were hoping, I’m sure we would have seen that they hoped we’d throw it instead of running it.
All day long we should have run it. Pound the ball, eat the clock, punish the defense, move the chains, keep Dalton on the bench. That was the key to victory.
The Badgers’ Big Three -- Ball, Clay, and White -- ran the ball for a combined 41 carries and 231 yards. That’s a 5.6 yards-per-run average. 5.6! Run the ball on first down. Run the ball on second down. And, look… It’s first down again!
Why ever throw it? Why not run it on every play? I’m sure that’s what TCU was afraid we would do, and so that’s precisely what we should have done.
It was a dismal day for the Big Ten. In some respects, the Badgers acquitted themselves better than any of their peers today. Nevertheless, the Rose Bowl was a game we should have won, and I knew how to do it: Just do what the other team hopes that you won’t.
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