What's it like to witness a college football team score 82 points in a single game? The end of time.In Big 12, In Billy Pilgrim, In Bryan Harvey, In College football, In TCU Horned Frogs, In Teach, In Texas Tech, In Time Travel
October 27, 2014
Yesterday, TCU won a game by the score of 82-27. The last time I saw such a score I was playing in a Church Basketball League. I was on the team that scored 27. Our opponents from Mt. Zion or Shiloh something or other dunked all over us. Because it was a Church League, they received technical fouls for every attempted dunk. They must have attempted fifty-something dunks that day because I think we scored all out points from the foul line. It was ridiculous, but it wasn't as ridiculous as what TCU did.
Moreover, TCU put up 82 points not against some inferior opponent, dragged into the Colosseum by the promise of a big pay check and ornamental wine baths. No, TCU wasn't playing North Southwest Texas State Community College. They were playing a fellow Big 12 opponent in Texas Tech who simply couldn't keep up. Heck, most college basketball teams would've failed to score with the Horned Frogs yesterday.
A lot happened in college football yesterday. The SEC West got wilder. Utah asserted itself. Michigan underwent further signs of castration, as did Texas. UVA blew a late lead against UNC. But all of this stuff was typical of a college football Saturday. 82 points, however, is a lunar landing, a nuclear event, a Swamp Thing rising out of the swamp and claiming its vengeance. 82 points is strange and toxic and its going to eat us alive from the inside out, because that game of our backyards and glory days has morphed into something else. And it's neither sport nor human. What on earth have the Horned Frogs spawned?
--In nearly the same moment as the Texas Tech touchdown, TCU evens the score when Aaron Green rumbles 62 yards for a touchdown. Birds make eerie calls from the branches of gloomy trees. Witnesses claim to have seen a flash of light, possibly the space time continuum has been disrupted.
--Two minutes later, Ryan Bustin kicks a 28 yard field goal. Everyone tells themselves that the flash seen earlier was an illusion; a trick of the eye. Texas Tech leads 10 to 7.
--With 9:54 left in the first quarter, TCU takes their first lead on a 51 yard pass from Trevone Boykin to Josh Doctson. The crowd knows it's in for a shootout.
--After a long scoring drought by both teams of about five and a half minutes, Jaden Oberkrom kicks a 45 yard field goal for the Horned Frogs.
--Two minutes later, TCU scores its third touchdown of the day, taking a 24 to 10 lead. Halftime is two minutes away, and the team in purple is on pace for a mere 48 points. Somewhere a man says, Think they can net 50. Another man say, No way. A solar eclipse takes place.
--During the eclipse, Texas Tech manages a touchdown. The halftime score is 24-17. This looks like a ballgame.
--A more astute fan reminds everyone that it's not yet halftime. The score at the end of the first quarter is 24-17. People look at each other and wonder what the hell they're watching. Individuals either high five or shrug their shoulders.
--In the first seven minutes of the second quarter, TCU scores a touchdown and Texas Tech scores a field goal. At this point, many fans believe they can see distorted image of the TCU players before and after their physical bodies. Someone describes the trail as a comet's tail, only sometimes it went before the comet. Someone else say, It was like each body was experiencing static interference.
--TCU kicker Jaden Oberkrom lands two field goals from beyond 40 yards before halftime. The Horned Frogs are now on pace for 74 points. An old timer says, Remember when they was only going to score 50.
--With 12:00 minutes to go in the third quarter, Oberkrom kicks another field goal. When it sails through the uprights, it passes through the net and ascends into the great blue yonder. It's strange, but people act as if the ball landed. Somewhere in the stands a kid notices pieces of popcorn floating out of their red-striped container, forming a buttery constellation.
--With still over half the third quarter to play, TCU scores three more touchdowns, on drives of 46 seconds, 25 seconds, and 37 seconds. A woman asks her husband, Is the TCU quarterback wearing a bunny costume. Her husband tells her, Don't be such a nitwit. But he saw the same thing: the flicker of a rabbit's ears and that expression of hell on earth.
--Texas Tech scores a tochdown with just over three minutes left in the quarter. For the time being, the rabbit ears disappear, but the score is 61 to 27. The birds that chirped creepily before have now taken to the sky; their wings cause a second solar eclipse.
--During this second eclipse, TCU scores another touchdown. The score is 68 to 27. A man in his thirties turns to another man in his thirties and asks him, Do you remember that film StarGate?
--TCU scores with 10:09 left in the fourth quarter. The scoring play is a four yard touchdown run. No one sees it. Instead, all eyes turn towards what appears to be a massive tear in the space between the field goal posts of the opposite end zone. The weather at that end of the field is also more noticeably violent. It's difficult to tell if a world is being swallowed or spit out. The game goes on.
--With one minute and sixteen second left, TCU scores for the final time. As Trevorris Johnson runs 25 yards into the end zone, Billy Pilgrim opens his eyes and sheds a tear.
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