daddy complex

i hate Dan's jeep.

it's a bit out of character since i do love a big engine. pretty sure my soft spot for high horsepower originated with trips to the city dump alongside D in his 1960-something black Chevy when I was too little to see over the dash. or it could be those visits to the railroad yard to visit D on those rare occasions that he could take time from conducting the train to show us around. a soft rumble, hinting of danger and courage and smelling like metal and oil, there is nothing quite like a string of idling 3,000-horsepower diesel locomotives in the morning.

it seems fitting, then, that Dan is cruising around the skies in his own twin-engine war machine. i've lost that loving feeling? get me within 100-yards of a fired-up strike eagle and I'm practically sliding off my chair. whoop!

but I still hate the damn jeep. it's a paycheck guzzling petrol-aholic with a mess of mechanical issues and inexplicable rattling noises that rival the mini for their frequency and mystery. not only that, but it spent the entire summer at Randy's Good-Ol-Boy Garage getting wrenched and greased to the tune of you-don't-even-want-to-know.

thanks to Randy, i didn't even get to enjoy the summer jeep-owner perk of looking cool while riding around Goldsboro topless (the jeep, not me) in my daisy dukes catching the eye of the locals. (on second thought, i live in Goldsboro and no one over 21 should be wearing daisy dukes, especially me. you get my point.)

my distaste of the big, loud 1984 CJ-7 with a rebuilt Chevy 350 is reminiscent of my own mom's dislike of D's 1972 Chevy K5 Blazer with its 350. she was constantly nagging D to sell the thing after it diverted funds from the family budget or sat idle for a winter or more. as I neared my Sweet 16, I joined the nag-fest because I began to see the Blaze King as the only thing standing between me and something silver and zippy with a big red bow (and we all know how that dream turned out).

but history does repeat itself.

Dan took a page out of D's old playbook to alter my position.

It's so simple: They just let me drive.

This season, Renegade is the new black.

here's hoping...again

I graduated from the University of Oregon in 2002. It was an epic football year marred by a single loss to Stanford at home at the very end of the season. (Sound familiar to anyone?) It was made even better because I was a marketing intern for the athletic department and on the sidelines for every home game - cueing the team on the field, getting run over in the end zone, rubbing elbows with the coaches at the after party.

Gang Green. It got in my blood.

Oregon went on to win the Fiesta Bowl decisively that year - it was before the stupid BCS had its own championship game, and those assholes were hogging the Rose Bowl. (Oh, and WE should have been in the championship that year anyway. Ugh. BCS.) I digress.

Since the the 2002 Fiesta Bowl, the Ducks have played in eight bowl games. And they've only won two of them, including a 13-point loss to Auburn in last year's national championship - a game I never thought any Oregon team would ever be in. Ever.

In fact, the Ducks are just 9-15 in the postseason, and our record against big-time, non-conference opponents is dismal as well. See also: LSU (2011), a 1-6 all-time performance vs. the Sooners, and an embarrassing o-8 record facing the Buckeyes. I could go on.

It seems like every year I get excited for the football season, only to have it end in the extinguishing of my candle of hope by the cruel fate of college football. The Ducks reeled me in before I was aware of the breadth and depth of their crushing historical performance. Sadly, it's too late.

After a particularly embarrassing loss to BYU in the 2006 Las Vegas Bowl, I was crying into my beer at the local pub in Boise and ran into another Duck.

He told me this heartwarming story:

I graduated from Oregon in 1994. It was a great football season and the campus was alive with Rose Bowl dreams. One day before one of the last home games of the season, when we knew we could make it to Pasadena, my friends and I ended up in a seedy bar in Springfield. It was dark and smoky, and there were just a few old men at the bar drinking together. My buddies and I somehow got started on the Ducks, and one of the old men said, "I graduated from Oregon in 1957, the last time we made it to the Rose Bowl. We lost to the Buckeyes that year. I've been a fan my whole life, and there's one thing you always have to remember: The Ducks are always gonna let you down."

Ever since Idaho Duck told me that story, it has haunted me. The old alum had almost a half century of Duck fandom under his belt at the time, and these were his inspirational words on the eve of the '95 Rose Bowl? (Of course they lost the '95 Rose Bowl to Penn State.) So, that's it? Is my own fandom futile? Should I have defected to Florida when i had the chance?

Now we face another try at the big stage. It's not the natty, but it is the granddaddy of them all, once again.

We are healthy. We are fast. We have LaMichael and Black Mamba. We aren't prone to punching opponents in the face anymore. We have plenty of options for outfits. We won't have the unnaturally large and dazzling teeth of the opponent's quarterback blinding our defense (we only lost by two scores, BTW). We are in our home territory.

Could THIS be our year for the big bi-decade bowl victory?

Oh, old class of '57 Duck fan of wisdom and experience, my candle of hope is again burning for the Ducks and an end to their complete self-destruction on the big stage. As I know yours is, too.

Despite our better judgement, we remain hopeful....again.

Go Ducks. Win the damn Rose Bowl.