Where are You Blissful Apathy?

Why do I feel like I’m in an abusive relationship? I feel like I’m taking a weekly beating and just when I can’t endure anymore, right when I’m on the brink of complete listlessness, Chuck combs down his ‘fro, puts on the charm, and delivers flowers. And I think: maybe it wasn’t so bad after all – I mean, there were some good times, right? So, of course, I decide on forgiveness.

Take last winter, for example. Mark Trestman came to town and all of the sudden Jay Davis became a 2,000-yard passer, Tremain Hall a 1,000 receiver, and Toney Baker and Andre Hall/Darrell Blackman/Bobbie Washington/Reggie Davis would each be 1,000-yard rushers. T.J Williams was back as the sure-handed All ACC tight end and the receiving corps of Clark, Barrett, and Hicks seemed solid enough to compliment Hall – all we lacked was a healthy Dunlap. The defensive line was by far and above the best in the nation and the linebackers were nothing at which to scoff; only the secondary and offensive line really warranted any alarm. Since next season Manny would be gone and almost certainly would Mario, this was the year to do it. The most important game of the season would just so happen to be the first game of the season, and the winner would almost undoubtedly have the inroads into the premier ACC championship game in Jacksonville. At worst, we had an outside shot at upsetting Miami or Florida State to get into a BCS game.

My buddy Mark even emailed me to confidently declare that Jay Davis would be the ACC Player of the Year and that we’d be 11-0 or 10-1. Close only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes.

Of course, we all know that our first tussle didn’t end quite like it was supposed to. VPI went back to Blacksburg with a hard-fought win, but we had pretty much moved the ball at will against a stout defense while Mario, Manny, and the Boys more than contained the most fascinating college quarterback since the older Vick Number Five was the then-most fascinating college quarterback ever. Sure, we lost 20-16, but we showed that we would cause some damage. Unfortunately, that damage would be limited.

The Colonels got trucked by Toney Baker, but then we invented fresh, new mistakes against Carolina before winning in Atlanta for the first time since 1988. Call it a fluke, but we are anything if not unpredictable. Soon enough we forgot that if we’re going to bite the tiger in his ass, we’d better have a way of dealing with his teeth, which we most certainly didn’t. And Chuck got to hear about it, as 57,500 booing Wolfpack fans let him know what they thought. I, personally, did not boo; I was too busy heading to the truck. Then, as predictable as the changing tides, we got pick-six’d by Wake, twice, again finding a way to take losing and despair to new levels in Winston.

It again looked hopeless against Southern Miss for 30 minutes with an utterly impressive four turnovers in the first half, but fortunately – at least that day – football is a 60-minute game. We found a starting running back and a starting quarterback and finally sacked someone and made some stops and did the absurd: we won.

And then, for no good reason, we went to Tallahassee and smacked the mighty Seminoles right in their feather-headed, savage, war-painted faces. Maybe the guys wanted to make a statement against all the kids they played against in high school. Maybe Weatherford really is as good as Chris Rix. Maybe our front seven is finding its groove and living up to its potential. Maybe Stone did just enough to not take us out of the game. Maybe Bobby has lost it and Chuck has found it. Or maybe we finally played the type of game we should have been playing all along, particularly against Carolina.

All I really know is that now I’m quite perturbed. Whereas I was once almost completely lethargic, now it pains me beyond explanation to know that we can win in Atlanta and Tallahassee, but not at home against Carolina and Clemson. It irritates me even more to know that now we actually have a shot at a bowl – perhaps even the Peach Bowl, with help – which by no stretch of the imagination should even be in the realm of possibility. It flusters the hell out of me to think that all that banished hope is working its way back into me, slowly replacing all that blissful apathy.

And what scares me the most is that we could have given up, but now we’re ripe for even greater disappointment. Should we win in Boston this weekend, it’ll set up yet another pivotal meeting against Maryland to end the season, and we all know how that’s worked out for us in years past.

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