Seth Kolloen

With Washington football now holding a 27-49-4 all-time record against USC, it dawned on me that coaches who beat the Trojans in their debut season must be rare. I was right. There are only two: Steve Sarkisian and Don James.

YES THAT DON JAMES! (Sorry, people under 30, but we Gen Xers grew up worshiping James, who won 153 games in 18 years. Until we die out (appx. 2060) you young bloods will be hearing about him. Deal with it.)

James and Sark: Can We Hug?

Did Ty Willingham beat USC in his debut season? Don't be ridiculous. Gilby? Faugh. Lambo? Nuh-uh. Jim Owens may be immortalized with a statue outside Husky Stadium, but his '57 Dawgs took a 19-12 loss to the Trojans. Darrell Royal took a 35-7 beating the year before. John Cherberg's '53 Dawgs managed a tie, as did Ralph Welch's '42 squad. But Howard Odell's 1948 squad and James Phelan's 1930 Dawgs both absorbed blowout losses.

Other Husky coaches either never faced SC, or didn't face them in their first year, which is why we must mention Enoch Bagshaw, who didn't play SC in his first season as UW coach in 1921, but beat them the first time he (and UW) faced them in '23, and Rick Neuheisel, who didn't have SC on the schedule his first two seasons but beat them in '01.

But Don James--oh, that Don James.

In James' tenth game as UW coach, his 1975 Dawgs faced the 13th-ranked Trojans at Husky Stadium. A crowd of 53,700 saw James' unranked Dawgs pull off an 8-7 upset, their first win vs. USC since 1964. (James' feat shocked L.A.-based Husky boosters, who'd told James before the season that they expected only a competitive game, not a win.) James remembered: "It was a cold, wet day and John McKay had already elected to go to the NFL and was kind of a lame duck"

Sarkisian's win over USC was more shocking. After beating the #3-ranked Trojans, his Huskies are now ranked, after just his 3rd game. A Don James team didn't see the polls until after James game #32.

Sarkisian also beats James to these feats:

Beating a ranked opponent: Sarkisian, game 3; James, game 8.

Beating a top-five opponent: Sarkisian, game 3; James, game 34.

Beating a top-three opponent: Sarkisian, game 3; James, game 67.

First win you could buy a t-shirt for: Sarkisian, game 3; James, we're guessing his third-game win over Navy did not inspire any apparel.

Mind you--Sarkisian and James couldn't be more different as coaches. Sarkisian spends practice on the field, instructing his players. James watched practice from a tower above the field. Sarkisian likes to motivate his players, James eschewed pre-game speeches and felt that the spirit of competition should be enough motivation. Both were college quarterbacks (Sark at BYU, James at Miami) but other than that the men are quite opposites.

Matt Hasselbeck dove toward the end zone during Sunday's game at San Francisco. As he did, 6-1, 240 lb., 24-year-old San Francisco linebacker Patrick Willis charged into his back.

Like Matt Hasselbeck, I am in my early 30s, and I will tell you what would happen if a 6-1, 240 lb. 24-year-old charged into me. I would start to be a little more discerning in my dating choices. Ha! No, seriously, I would lie on the ground until the sun absorbed the earth.

Hasselbeck sent this photo via Twitter

Hasselbeck, who is a football player and a Republican, not a writer and Obama supporter like me, actually stood up. He put his hands to his head, signaling that he was coming out of the game. Then he motioned more frantically with his hands that his replacement should arrive. Then, he collapsed into the arms of Seahawks trainers. It was terrifying.

The Hawks' QB didn't play the rest of the game, but afterwards sent a halfway reassuring Tweet to fans. "Going to be alright," it read, and was accompanied by the photo at right. I suppose in the world of professional football, where paralysis is an imminent risk, being strapped to a hospital gurney with a few fingers raised isn't so bad. For those of us with white collar jobs, it would be a little scary.

Yesterday, Seahawks coach Jim Mora announced that Hasselbeck's injury is no more than a fractured rib. Not great news, but better than it could've been--Hasselbeck missed most of last year with a back injury, the immediate fear was that he'd reinjured it.

Hasselbeck isn't expected to play on Sunday against Chicago, but neither he nor Mora will rule that possibility out. The Seahawks' backup quarterback is speedy Seneca Wallace, who was 3-5 as a starter last season. The Bears once again have one of the league's better defenses; the Seahawks will need one of their best offensive games to win.

For 99.99999% of the world, "Niagara Falls" conjures up the mental image of one of the natural wonders of the world. For me it will always mean one thing: "Washington 16, USC 13." You see, my childhood friend Jason picked Saturday, September 19 for his wedding in Western New York. My season tickets for the game went to some random woman on StubHub. But I'm not bitter. After a win this wonderful, how could I be? Moments like this is why I bother to watch sports in the first place.

The father of the groom celebrates

I wasn't too worried about being at a wedding during this game. As I wrote on this site, I didn't like the Huskies' chances. ("Expecting a USC Blowout"--great work, Kolloen.) Then, Dawgs fell behind 10-0 early, confirming my fears. I stopped my obsessive Blackberry checking to focus on more wedding reception appropriate activities, like business networking and flirting.

Soon, though, the infreqent Blackberry checks began to show a different story. While I was talking up my writing to a guy who owns an internet retail site, Jake Locker completed three long passes and ran into the end zone for the Dawgs' first score. While I was attempting to charm a sassy, hazel-eyed beauty, the defense forced a key fumble.

As Jason's friend Shuyler put it: "Who are these guys?"

Is that Eric Folk, the guy who missed two PATs in the Spring game? Nailing a clutch 46-yarder?

Is that the Husky defense, the one that was worst in the country last year? Forcing USC to go 0-10 on third-downs?

What new Jake Locker is this? The run-first quarterback? Leading the offense with his arm?

The post-ceremony drinks wound down just as the game heated up. As part of the ritual tagging of the newlyweds' car, we added: "Beat USC!"

Then just after they left, we drove like hell through Western New York to reach a sports bar across from the reception site in Niagara Falls before the game ended.

Driving like hell through Western New York is impossible. Apparently the area's founders felt that instead of congregating into a few large towns, they should have one tiny town every few feet, each with its very own stoplight, it's own small-town-cop-enforced 20 mph speed limit. We seethed down each Main St., as I conducted dramatic readings of the incredible events that were unfolding on my BlackBerry gamecast.

"Third and eleven. Jake Locker pass (pause) complete to James Johnson for TWELVE YARDS (pause for ecstatic "YESes" from my carmates) and a first down at the USC 17."

We hit Niagara Falls with barely a minute left, as the Huskies attempted a final drive to win the game. Schuyler pulled the clutchest parallel-parking-job in history, squeezing into a tiny space across from the hotel. We sprinted towards the hotel. At curbside, the groom, my friend, a rabid UW fan, who'd attended the Idaho game with me the week before, was getting out of his car.

I explained the situation to him as calmly as I could: "Huskies! Game! Tied! Minute to go! Driving!"

We piled into the sports bar, where a few patrons were enjoying a quiet lunch. It would not be quiet for long.

Why do I watch sports? Joy like this.

The Husky game was on a huge projection screen. Under a minute to go, Huskies near midfield. A two-foot high Jake Locker scrambled right, and lofted a pass down the sideline, where Jermaine Kearse leapt across the massive screen to grab it. We screamed and hugged. We saw the word "FLAG" in eight-inch-high letters on the screen. We sighed. We saw the ref, filling half of the 12-foot-high wall, signal roughing the passer. We screamed and hugged again. The Huskies were in field goal range.

The groom's parents--Dad a former UW yellleader, Mom a UW cheerleader--walked in. We pointed to the screen. They understood immediately. "This is amazing," said mom.

Erik Folk lined up for the game-winning field goal. He hit it true. We screamed and hugged. And hugged and screamed. And screamed and screamed.

With insane smiles on our faces, we marched to the reception. The game was the talk of the party, at least among the 10 percent of us who'd come from Seattle. One guest, a former UW basketball player, demanded my room key so that she could get on my laptop and change her Facebook status. We tried to determine where this ranked in recent Husky victories. Best since the 2000 win over Miami, we concluded. The groom's father started a "Whose House? / Dawgs House!" chant.

Soon it was back to some semblance of reality. I had a wedding speech to write. I had an open bar to enjoy. And the hazel-eyed beauty was so alluring, even a historic Husky win didn't push her off my radar.

Add what's being called "The Bark Heard 'Round the World" (you can already get a commemorative t-shirt) to the list of seminal Seattle sporting events I've missed. Life goes on--there's another game Saturday, vs. Stanford.

Just wanted to post my thoughts about Saturday's UW/USC game. I know the Huskies have turned into a trendy upset pick; normally optimistic me would be right on this bandwagon. But I just don't see it. USC just won at Ohio State, the Huskies beat Idaho in what wasn't a particularly impressive performance. USC would beat Idaho by 70.

Lord knows I'd love the trendy upset pick to come through, but it looks to me like a USC romp. (Also, if the Huskies beat USC, I'm gonna be pissed as I had to give up my tickets to go to a wedding in upstate NY).

I've read a small forest's worth of sports autobiographies, and the list of books that truly reveal the emotional life of an athlete is one title long: A False Spring, by Pat Jordan.

I'm hoping to add another to my list--this a one-man show, not a book--when I see ex-NFLer Bo Eason's Runt of the Litter this month at ACT Theater.

Eason, a hard-hitting (some say cheap shot artist) safety for the Houston Oilers in the mid-80s, is the younger brother of former Pats QB Tony Eason. His one-man show, which he wrote and performs, is loosely based on their story--Tony was the football prodigy, destined for stardom; Bo the undersized, lightly regarded scrapper.

The play is set in the locker room before a playoff game: "Jack Henry," a scrappy defensive back played by Bo, is about to face brother "Charlie," a legendary quarterback. Within the conceit of this brother vs. brother tale we'll get a glimpse into the emotional strain that human combat like football puts on a person.

Athletes' emotional lives are typically as inaccessible as their home phone numbers. Some hide their emotions behind banalities, others don't have emotions at all (Alex Rodriguez). Those who do wish to share their emotions may simply lack the tools to do so--the life of the modern athlete does not permit much time for self-reflection or creative pursuits.

Eason, who had to retire from football after suffering a gruesome knee injury, has since trained as an actor, getting a few minor movie and TV roles. Runt of the Litter ran off-Broadway in 2002; he's since toured the country with it. "One of the most powerful plays about sports in decades," said The New York Times. "The kind of raw power rarely seen on stage," said Newsday. If the show as half as good as that, it'll be hundreds of times better than the typical first-person sports story.

Runt of the Litter opens at ACT Theater tonight, and will run Tues.-Sun. until October 11. Tickets are $37.50-$55, depending on which date you choose. If you're a student, it's $10; it's $15 if you're under 25 years of age. There are also two pay-what-you-will performances, this Sunday the 20th and on October 1.

With some baseball trades, you need to wait years to decide which team got the better of the bargain. No need with Jack Zduriencik's deadline day trade of Jarrod Washburn. If the trade were a baseball game, it would be Mariners 936, Tigers 1.

Washburn has been dismal for Detroit, and after not making it past the first inning on Tuesday, may not pitch again this season.

"I don't know why they'd want me to pitch, pitching the way I have," Washburn told FOX Sports.

Neither do we, Jarrod: In eight starts as a Tiger you've won just one game and compiled a 7.33 ERA.

Inflammation in Washburn's knee is causing him discomfort--but it's an injury the Tigers knew about when they made the trade. Evidently the pain has gotten worse, and there's nothing anyone can do.

Based on Washburn's performance, this would've been a good trade if the M's had gotten nothing in return but a Jim Leyland cigarette butt--but they received pitcher Luke French, a candidate for the '10 rotation. French made six starts with the M's, compiling a 6.38 ERA--not impressive, but better than Washburn did. Zduriencik also pried away minor league pitcher Mauricio Robles, who's had a solid last month of the season and pitched seven innings of shutout ball in the High Desert Mavs' Cal League playoff game this week.

(Had some fun listening to the Mavs' deciding Game 5 last night--they won it with 8 runs in the final four innings, and will play for the Cal League title against San Jose.)

The M's also saved about $3 million, two months worth of Washburn's $10.35M 2009 salary.

Better performance, saving money, some potential help for the future, all by getting rid of a pitcher who would've hurt you had he stayed. Jack Zduriencik, I am in love with you.

Q: What do Will Smith, Joe Montana and Wayne Gretzky share in common--something that will bring all three boldface names to Issaquah tonight?

A: All three have sons on the Oaks Christian High football team, which has flown up from Simi Valley, Calif. to play I-Town's Skyline High.

Trey "Son of Will" Smith

Will's son Trey (his oldest, by first wife Sheree Zampino, and the inspiration for his remake of "Just the Two of Us") is a junior wide receiver.

Joe's son Nick (youngest of four by current wife Jennifer Wallace, the model he met doing a razor commercial) is a senior quarterback.

Wayne's son Trevor (third of five by actress wife Janet Jones) is a junior quarterback; he backs up Nick.

The game, which will be televised nationally on ESPNU, has local football fans making sure to change out of sweatpants for two reasons: 1) Nick Montana is a UW recruit who's likely to eventually succeed Jake Locker as Huskies' quarterback. 2) The game matches two of the best high school teams in the nation. USA Today ranks Oaks Christian #6, Skyline #17.

Issaquah residents (a.k.a. "Issaquadlians") are psyched about having some genuine national celebrities in town, what with the Modest Mouse guys all living in Portland now. The Issaquah Press breathlessly reports the rumor that Smith will arrive in a helicopter! (Hey, would you rather read that or "Officials mull Timberlake Park dog suggestions after meeting." I thought so.)

Tickets to the 7 p.m. game were snapped up long ago, but you can listen on KJR-950 AM, or watch on ESPNU--and see, I'll bet, as many shots of Will, Joe and Wayne as of Trey, Nick and Trevor.

I'll say this about records: Pesky MFers! Sad about the death of Mary Travers--the "Mary" of Peter, Paul and Mary--I dug out my PPM records last night for a tribute evening. I say "my" PPM records, but they were first my mom's; her maiden name is scrawled on each album jacket in a tentative cursive.

Odds that any music I bought in high school will someday be listened to by a 32-year-old son of mine: 75,000 to 1. Or way more likely than the chances of Seth Jr. someday possessing any of the e-music I've purchased since--which certainly won't have my name scribbled on it. Kind of a bummer, really.

Mary Travers was the voice of mom's teenager-hood, and later my childhood, emanating from the same records I'm listening to as I write this. Her gentle voice and gorgeous face lent a femininity that helped make Peter, Paul and Mary, for a time, the most popular musical group in America.

They aren't remembered as such now, having been consigned to the largely-ignored "folk" category, but in November of 1963, three PPM albums were in the Billboard top ten. They played at the 1963 Civil Rights March on Washington, for Christ's sake.

Then The Beatles came and owned popular music the rest of the decade, and now even oldies stations don't play Peter, Paul and Mary.

My mom played them all the time; easing me in with PPM's 1969 children's album "Peter, Paul and Mommy," then the group's more adult work.

My childhood friend Dave was also PPM-raised. In high school Dave and I formed a folk-ish duo called "Spackled Yams," playing songs we composed late at night in his basement. Silly songs, but always, always containing harmony. When The Rocket required us to create a 10-word band description for our spot in their annual music listings, I came up with this: "Peter, Paul and Mary with more hair and less Mary."

The upshot of all this PPM influence has been a lifelong appreciation for harmony. If I was therefore the only straight man in my college class who knew all the words to an Indigo Girls song, it was the price I happily paid.

Current local harmony fix: The Dutchess and the Duke--childhood friends like Dave and I--make some pretty sweet sounds together.

Mary Travers, Peter Yarrow and Noel "Paul" Stookey were not childhood friends. Albert Grossman, who you can imagine as a sort-of P. Diddy of folk, put the three together. The trio's first three albums went to #1, #2, and #1, respectively, on the Billboard charts. Their next eight albums all cracked the top 25, at which point they disbanded to pursue solo careers. Didn't work out so well, so they got back together in 1978, sporadically recording and touring since.

Travers was 72; she died of complications from cancer treatment, according to The New York Times.

 

The Seahawks' linebacking corps was widely regarded as the strongest single position unit on the team--maybe the best LB unit in the NFL. No longer.

Leroy Hill, one of the team's three starting linebackers, and the recipient of a six-year, $36-million contract in May, partially tore a muscle in his groin trying to tackle Stephen Jackson in the Seahawks' win over the Rams Sunday and will miss at least the next five games.

---

Best case scenario, Hill rejoins the Seahawks Nov. 1 vs. Dallas. The injury may end up requiring surgery, which, depending on what they find when they open Hill up, might put him out for longer.

Special teams ace Will Herring replaces Hill as weak-side linebacker (meaning he lines up across from whichever side of the offense doesn't have a tight end), as he did on Sunday when Hill went down.

Leroy Hill (l.) is out until November, Will Herring will start in his place.

What does this mean for the Seahawks defense? We turn to John Morgan of the fantastic Seahawks blog Field Gulls for the answer: "Herring is not Hill's equal as a run defender, open field tackler, or blitzer, but...Herring is a much better pass defender."

Morgan points out that, among the Seahawks next five opponents, both Arizona and Indianapolis are primarily passing teams, so Herring's presence might actually be an upgrade.

It will not, however, help the Seahawks in dealing with 49er running back Frank Gore on Sunday in San Francisco. Gore has averaged 5.5 yards per carry in seven career games against the Seahawks; keeping him in check will be job one and Sunday--and Herring will be a big part of that.

What it could mean on the field is that Lofa Tatupu is more likely to stay up front to help Herring against the run than to drop back into pass coverage--which could leave the Seahawks vulnerable to passes over the middle. We'll shall see.

In other Seahawks injury news: Walter Jones, Chris Spencer and Deion Branch remain questionable for Sunday, with Jones looking least likely to play. Tatupu, who suffered a hamstring injury Sunday, is expected to play.

One of the most enjoyable baseball spectating experiences of my life occurred at a rained-out minor league game in Burlington, Vermont. A summer squall had rendered the field unplayable. But as we 2,000 or so fans were covered under the grandstand, we simply stayed and enjoyed the warm, misty summer air. (It's not like there was anything else to do, this being Burlington, Vermont.)

As we waited optimistically for play to resume, the P.A. blasted that generic playlist of classic oldies and rock that pretty much any American knows by heart: "Jailhouse Rock," "Celebration," "Surfin' Safari"--you know the ilk. People started dancing and singing along. Someone busted out a beach ball, people started batting it around. All of a sudden, a giant community party had broken out--miraculously for Vermont, without a jam band in sight.

It has fixed in my mind the reason why we bother to attend spectator sports, given what a pain it is to park: It's to be with people.

The Mariners will play rain or shine since they have a retractable roof. Not that anyone cares. The M's are hopelessly behind in the standings. When I go, I end up paying as much attention to the field as I did that night in Burlington. But--dull baseball notwithstanding--going to Safeco Field is still a hell of a lot of fun. 

Tuesday night we find ourselves sitting next to a family from Venezuela. The older sister is snapping pictures with a Nikon, and cheering on her countryfolk: "Vamos, Guti!" for Franklin Gutierrez. "Vamos Celestino!" (that's his other last name) for Jose Lopez.

In the row below, a young couple has brought their baby girl to what must be its first game. The four-month-old finds my friend David and I fascinating for some reason, and fixes her bright brown eyes on us for most of the night. Being complete hams, we try to entertain her with funny faces and goofy dancing. Fact: If there's a choice between making funny faces at a baby and watching Jack Wilson hit, I'll choose funny faces every time (hell, I might choose changing baby's diaper).

One section over, a group of older women display their painstakingly stenciled sign: "11 Little Old Ladies / Happy and Spry / Looking Forward / To Some Rally Fries." An addendum sign reads "Total: 700 Years." (At Mariner games, if you are not aware, people bring signs in an attempt to curry favor with M's broadcaster Mike Blowers. The sign Blowers likes best wins its holders free fries.) The ladies did not win, but they did get on the JumboTron, and they will someday appear in the vacation slideshow of the Venezuelan family, as older sis snapped a photo soon after I did.

Sorry about the blurriness, I didn't want to catch their old (joke!)

Down below them, a young blonde is trying to embarrass her yuppie boyfriend by making a spectacle of herself between innings to get on the JumboTron. At first she just waves a foam finger along with the between-innings music, but as the game progresses, perhaps due to some liquid imbibations, she's really getting into it. By the eighth inning, she's shaking her moneymaker. I mean really putting some back into it. Yuppie guy laughs either at or with her--she smacks him in the face with the foam finger. I guess she thought at.

In the third deck of rightfield, an impromptu supporters group springs up. No one has seats out there, they've just migrated over--about 50 of them--to get a bigger canvas for what appear to be loosely choreographed but unplanned progressive fan fun. They wave in unison during the in-game clapping sessions, and freeze when the clapping ends. This draws the attention of the entire crowd because somehow seeing Bill Hall flail hopelessly late at fastballs doesn't. Some members of the crowd decide to go up and join the party. There are about 75 of them now, and they somehow get organized enough to form into a giant S, stretching from the aisleway that runs around Safeco's third deck all the way to the roof.

 

Are you seeing the pattern here? People are having fun. The kind of fun you can't have by yourself. The kind of fun that requires a public place, a bunch of people, and, frankly, baseball so boring that you have to create your own entertainment.

The Mariners mount a late rally that gets the sparse crowd on its feet and cheering in unison, but Jose Lopez strikes out with two runners on. But this is not a "no joy in Mudville" moment. Men are laughing, and children shout, as we all move into the still-warm night.

Thanks Mariners: If not for contending, or putting a good team on the field, or making decisions that would lead to victory (bunting with Guti in the seventh when a homer ties it, Wakamatsu? Not okay.). Thanks for bringing us together.