It’s that time again.
It’s time to look back at a year’s worth of columns and see how the Detroit sports landscape looked through my crossed eyes.
So, without further ado, here’s the annual “Best of/Worst of Greg Eno” for 2013.
On the Red Wings’ slippage to begin the truncated 2013 NHL season:
The Red Wings used to play a selfish brand of hockey—meaning that they never let the other team have the puck. They cycled and passed and it was like watching the Harlem Globetrotters with the basketball during “Sweet Georgia Brown.”
It’s become so hard for the Red Wings now.
No longer do teams step onto the Joe Louis Arena ice shaking in their skating boots. Gone is the intimidation factor at The Joe. The crowds are still sellouts but it’s a polite crowd nowadays—19,000+ who are sitting on their hands too often.
We knew it wasn’t going to be the same this season, but for a long time it was all conjecture, thanks to the labor lockout. The hockey season was always somewhere over there, past the horizon.
Then the labor strife was over and the NHL started playing games again, and all of Hockeytown’s fears are being realized.
The Red Wings are an ordinary team, no longer one of the league’s bullies. They win on some nights, lose on others. They are 7-7 and it befits them.
This could describe this season’s Red Wings, eh?
On then-rookie Andre Drummond being, at age 19, the Pistons’ best player—already:
In Drummond’s absence the Pistons have collapsed like a house of cards. They are shockingly inept with Drummond out of the lineup. They are pushovers in the paint, and lost everywhere else on the court defensively. The only rebounds they grab these days are the ones that fall directly into their hands.
The Pistons, with Drummond on the sidelines, have become a disinterested, wretched mess of a basketball team. They are unable, perhaps even unwilling, to play anyone tough right now.
Drummond’s absence and the Pistons’ subsequent freefall into oblivion are about as coincidental as cause and effect.
So it’s not too much to say that Drummond, at 19 years old, is the Pistons’ best player right now. It was not too much to say back in 1981 about Isiah Thomas, when the 20-year-old rookie from Indiana University became the Pistons’ best player just a few minutes into his first game.
Thomas didn’t stop there; he became the franchise’s best player of all time.
It’s way too soon to say that Drummond is a HOF player, but his impact on the team remains significant
On the Red Wings moving to the Eastern Conference for the 2013-14 season:
NBC is a winner, too. The league’s TV network surely must be busting buttons when they see all the tradition-rich games featuring the league’s top squads that they can schedule for Sunday afternoons.
Remember Detroit-Toronto in Steve Yzerman’s young years? Remember how exciting those games were? And the Maple Leafs weren’t even any good back then.
I can see the smiles on the faces of the old-timers when they see those iconic Canadiens jerseys skating up and down the JLA ice several times a season.
You missed the Bruins’ visit to Detroit? There’ll be another one next month; you won’t have to wait until the next presidential election cycle.
The Red Wings ought to be thankful, too—because had they still been in the West, they would be way out of the playoff picture this season.
On Justin Verlander’s contract situation and his possibly heading toward free agency after the 2014 season:
So I wouldn’t worry too much about Justin Verlander hitting the free market after next season. Ilitch won’t have that. There will come a time when the owner will yank DaveDombrowski by the ear into a room and ask his GM, flat out, how much it’s going to cost to keep Verlander in the Old English D. Dombrowski will tell his boss, who will fork over a check, and that will be that.
That check is likely to steamroll past $200 million.
It will be a bargain.
Verlander is nothing like we’ve ever seen on a pitching mound in Detroit. He’s 30 years old and he’s just getting started. He’s pitched in more big games already than most guys will see in a lifetime. His awards and achievements and accolades read like a 20-year veteran’s. He’s funny and good-looking and loves the media.
He also thinks free agency will be fun. Too bad he’ll never get to find out for real.
JV did, indeed, sign an extension for over $200 million—and proceeded to have a difficult year, though he turned it on in the playoffs.
On collecting baseball trading cards as a kid growing up in Livonia:
Outside the store we’d stand, our bikes between our legs, gum packing our cheeks like sunflower seeds in a hamster’s.
The first thing you tried to do was offload “doubles”—those duplicate cards that were not needed. We’d shuffle through our cards like traders on the floor of the NYSE, calling out doubles loudly in case anyone was interested, right then and there.
The checklists were always mental. Everyone seemed to know which cards they needed, cold. We didn’t have to consult with a grocery list of needed cards. And we also knew which cards we already had, so the doubles could either come in the form of two of the same card from that day’s haul, or by way of mentally connecting your collection at home with those cards being shuffled in your hands in front of the store.
Sometimes you’d end up with triples or even quadruples, usually of some bench player who rarely found his way into an actual game. No one got three or four Rod Carews.
Brings back some memories for you, I hope!
On the Lions drafting DE Ziggy Ansah:
The whole idea of the draft is volatile enough. You hardly need to add to its propensity for being tenuous.
Yet that’s what the Lions have done, by picking hugely talented but terribly raw DE Ziggy Ansah, number five off the board. This kid could become the best pass rusher to wear Honolulu Blue since Bubba Baker.
Or he may flat out stink.
Boom or bust. Star or dud. Genius or folly.
Pretty much describes the NFL Draft as a whole, I’d say.
Ansah had a decent rookie season. He is far from being a draft bust—so far.
On the Red Wings signing G Jimmy Howard to a six-year contract extension:
The wolves were out again this week, as news came to light that the Red Wings are about to outfit Howard with a six-year, $31.8 million contract. It should be signed any day now, after some final details are hammered out.
The therapists on talk radio, namely Bob Wojnowski and Jamie Samuelsen, had a bunch of apoplectics on their hands Thursday evening when the topic of discussion turned to Howard and his soon-to-be new contract.
The bridge jumpers were aghast. They didn’t like the length of the deal. They thought GM Ken Holland was “overpaying” for one of his own. They didn’t like the money, as if they were each being shaken down for a share of the payout.
Mainly, they didn’t like the idea of Jimmy Howard playing goalie for the Red Wings for the next six years.
Based on how Howie has played this season, the fans like this contract even less.
On the freefall of WR Titus Young and how it compares to that of Charlie Rogers, the team’s first round pick of 2003:
It’s not about football anymore for Titus Young. It’s about life, and his ability to survive it. It should be pointed out that Young is the father of a nine-month old baby boy, Titus Jr.
Again we smirk and shake our heads at Young’s personal life, as we did at Charlie Rogers’.
Rogers never got any help. Young’s father’s comment gives hope that Titus can get some help and support. Maybe there will be a personal posse that will gather and help Young battle his demons.
Charlie Rogers is 32, broke, and has no future. The world that was once his oyster is now his living hell.
That’s nothing to smirk about.
Let’s hope the next time we read of Young, it’s about how he’s getting his life together. Don’t hold your breath.
On the Tigers’ much-maligned utility man, Don Kelly:
He is the quintessential Jack of All Trades, Master of None. Killing him is like killing nine mediocre people. But he’s open-minded; he’ll try anything once—and he has.
Don Kelly has done it all on the baseball diamond. He just hasn’t done it all that well.
Ah, but what would baseball be without the Don Kellys of the world?
Someone has to be the 25th man on a 25-man roster. Kelly has spent his entire big league career looking over his shoulder and seeing no one behind him.
It’s been a baseball life lived on the edge—of extinction.
Kelly, the Tigers Designated Sitter, has been hanging on to a big league job by a thread for so long, it defies physics.
The Tigers drafted him in the eighth round of the 2001 amateur draft. Little did they know it would be like drafting a boomerang. Every time the Tigers tried to throw Don Kelly away, he kept flying back to them.
Kelly meandered his way through the Tigers farm system, like a rat in a maze, looking for the cheese. He started as a shortstop but that soon proved to be as significant as saying a chameleon started green.
In the minors, Kelly switched to third base, then to second, then to first, then back to third base again. He was threatening to rewrite Abbott and Costello’s act, all by himself.
Kelly will return to the Tigers in 2014, the ultimate baseball survivor
On the comparison between new Pistons coach Mo Cheeks and his predecessor, Larry Frank:
The similarities pretty much end with their both being NBA head coaches prior to coming to Detroit. Frank coached the New Jersey Nets; Cheeks steered the Portland Trailblazers and the Philadelphia 76ers. Both coaches led their teams to the playoffs, but neither went very far into the postseason.
After that, Cheeks and Frank part ways.
Frank never played pro basketball. Not even close. He was a pipsqueak gym rat who started his coaching career as an errand boy for legendary Indiana University coach Bob Knight. After Indiana, Frank lived a hard scrabble basketball life, taking very unglamorous jobs before finally getting his break. Still, he became an NBA head coach at age 33.
Cheeks not only played in the NBA, he was one of the game’s star point guards in the 1980s. He was manning the point when the 76ers won the league championship in 1983. His career was filled with assists and points and both individual and team success.
Mo Cheeks can never be accused of not knowing what it’s like to play in the NBA.
But Cheeks, so far, has presided over a terribly inconsistent basketball team in Detroit. But it’s still early.
On the breakout year of Max Scherzer’s:
The Tigers soon discovered that the scouting report on Scherzer was dead solid perfect—he was the human roller coaster.
It was Cy Young one day, and Sigh Young five days later.
Scherzer’s arm was alive, alright, but it was like what a scout once said about a young Sandy Koufax.
“Koufax would be a great pitcher,” the scout said, “if the plate was high and outside.”
Scherzer was installed in the Tigers rotation in 2010 and not having seen him pitch before, I thought the young man was trying to throw his arm to home plate, along with the baseball.
Scherzer, at the time, had what is known as a “violent” delivery. His windup was designed to gain power from his legs, which he then used to whip-snap the baseball from his right hand like it had cut him off in traffic.
It was anyone’s guess as to where the baseball was going at that point.
It wasn’t that Scherzer was ridiculously wild. In his only full season with the Diamondbacks, he averaged about 3.5 walks per nine innings.
He just threw a lot of pitches. Like, a ton of them. He was about as efficient as the government.
The Tigers presumably knew what they were getting in Scherzer, which was a big arm who could be a fixture in their rotation, as long as he could be refined. They hoped that he could, one day, be a nice complement to their ace, Justin Verlander.
Some say that Max has supplanted Verlander as the Tigers’ ace. I say give it at least one more year before you make such a declaration. Besides, Max may be gone after 2014, anyway.
On Chris Chelios’ being voted into the HHOF, and his unexpected turn as a Red Wing:
I’ll never forget where I was when I heard the news that the Red Wings had acquired Chelios in March, 1999 at the trading deadline. I was in my car, and nearly ran it into a ditch.
Chris Chelios, a Red Wing?
It was Ted Williams to the Yankees. Larry Bird to the Lakers. A Hatfield to the McCoys.
Chelios was 37 when the trade was made, and it looked like so many the Red Wings were famous for making—a wily veteran on his last legs, for a prospect that would never find serious ice time in Detroit anyhow.
Chelios was traded for a defenseman named Anders Eriksson, who was 24 at the time and who would play in the NHL for another 11 years, but whose career reads more like a travelogue. Eriksson played for six more teams after being traded to Chicago, never carving out much of a niche anywhere he went.
But a funny thing happened with this Chelios-for-Eriksson deal. Despite being 13 years Eriksson’s senior, Chelly nearly played in the NHL for as long as Eriksson would last.
Chelios became a Red Wing, and eventually the Winged Wheel was tattooed emotionally on his heart. Detroit slowly replaced Chicago as Chelios’ home. He opened restaurants in metro Detroit, got involved in charity work and won two more Stanley Cups along the way (2002 and 2008). He played in Detroit until he was 46 years old, beating Gordie Howe in that category by three years in the age department.
Last week, Chelios—along with fellow Red Wing Brendan Shanahan—was voted into the Hockey Hall of Fame.
Chelly deserves it, but did anyone thing he’d play for the Red Wings for as long as he did?
On the idea of the Pistons moving back downtown:
Move the Pistons back downtown, the romanticists say. The crowds will return.
The Red Wings’ recent announcement of plans to build a brand new hockey arena in the area near Comerica Park and Ford Field has fueled the Pistons-to-downtown rallying cries.
Luckily, the Pistons have an owner now who won’t take the bait.
Tom Gores didn’t find his money in a satchel somewhere. He wasn’t born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. He didn’t win the Lotto, nor sue for negligence. He wasn’t left a fortune by a rich uncle.
Gores got his money fair and square—by earning it and turning profits into bigger profits. He navigated choppy financial waters to build his portfolio into something pretty amazing for a guy who has yet to reach his 50th birthday.
Gores is smart enough to know that the only thing that will bring fans back to see the Pistons in droves is winning.
Gores knows that you can move the Pistons downtown all you want—put them right smack next to the RenCen if you please—but it won’t mean a hill of beans if the team keeps turning in 29-victory seasons, like the one just passed.
I have a hunch that Gores is perfectly happy to have his team remain in Auburn Hills—for now.
On MLB’s desire to use instant replay for more than just HR calls, starting in 2014:
Major League Baseball is on the verge of expanding its relatively limited use of instant replay for the 2014 season. Taking its cue from the NFL, MLB will allow managers to use challenges—one prior to the seventh inning and two afterward, until the game ends.
Pallone, in a Facebook comment to me, wrote simply, “Why don’t we just use robots!!”
I understand Pallone’s stance (he absolutely detests FSD’s so-called FoxTrax, which supposedly determines electronically if a pitch was a ball or a strike), especially given that he is a former big league umpire.
But there’s also something to be said for getting the call right, and for returning good umpires back to anonymity.
I say use the damn thing already.
Looks that way!
On the return of Red Wings RW Dan Cleary:
The Red Wings didn’t have to say yes to Cleary just because he drove up to Traverse City to ask for his old job back—especially not after it was reported that he was on the verge of signing with another team.
This one’s for loyalty and for not always chasing the money. This is for everyone who doubts that pro sports teams and players really will scratch each other’s backs—when push comes to shove.
Dan Cleary said no to the money, and yes to being a Red Wing. The team said no to convenience and yes to rewarding past performance.
How about that?
Yeah, how about that? And how about Cleary’s awful performance thus far?
On the Lions’ ineptitude in Washington, written on the eve of their game against the Redskins:
They’re going to fly to Washington, land, de-board, take a bus to their hotel and spend Saturday night dreaming of touchdowns and defensive stops. They’re going to imagine themselves walking off the field on Sunday as victors.
Dutch Clark couldn’t do it. Neither could Bobby Layne or Joe Schmidt. Lem Barney was never a winner in Washington, nor was Charlie Sanders.
Sorry, Chuck Long. Scott Mitchell, you couldn’t win there either (Mitchell was the one who threw the game-winning pick-six in overtime to Darrell Green in 1995).
So you have to give this 2013 group of Lions an “A” for guts and gall. They fancy themselves as the squad that can fly home from Washington as winners. That the Redskins are 0-2 and not exactly one of the league’s best teams perhaps buoys them. But the quality of the two teams has meant diddlysquat in years past. It’s always been Goliath beating David, no matter what.
Detroit at Washington, NFL style. Forget the spread; take the ‘Skins. It’s the lock of the century, every time. The house always wins. It’s been the biggest waste of three hours on a Sunday for eight decades and counting.
The Lions WON. Go figure.
On SS Jose Iglesias making Tigers fans forget—already—Jhonny Peralta
But Peralta is the 2013 Pipp, whose place in the Yankees lineup at first base was taken by one Louis Gehrig in 1923 as Pipp infamously nursed a headache. Pipp was a pretty good player, too, but he was no Gehrig, as it turned out.
Iglesias is already making people think of Peralta as a distant memory, and Jhonny has only been gone for a little more than a month.
Iglesias plays shortstop as if he tumbled out of the womb wearing a mitt. It wouldn’t surprise me if his first words were seis-cuatro-tres.
Brooks Robinson was dropped on Earth by God to play third base. Iglesias is a shortstop the way Brooks was a third baseman. In just seven weeks as a Tiger, Iglesias has made plays that you only see on video games, or in dreams.
There isn’t a baseball that Iglesias can’t get to. He has the range of a nuclear bomb, and an arm like an ICBM missile.
We have never seen shortstop play in Detroit like we’re seeing it now with Iglesias. With all due respect to Alan Trammell and Steady Eddie Brinkman, Iglesias combines competence with flair. He’s an acrobat playing baseball, and part gymnast, too.
What’s Spanish for vacuum cleaner?
The Tigers have Iglesias sucking up ground balls at SS for several years to come. Should be fun to watch.
On the amazing comeback of Victor Martinez, especially after his slower-than-molasses start to the season:
I remember watching a game on television in June, when Martinez started to perk up a little bit. Still, his average was below .250. FSD analyst Rod Allen said, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Martinez was back around .300 by the end of the year.”
I thought Allen to be merely spewing out propaganda as a homer shill.
Well, look who was right, after all.
Martinez has lifted his batting average, which was like an anchor, all the way to “around .300,” just as Rod Allen prophesized.
Martinez’s recovery from an awful first two months, at age 34, especially considering that the resurrection came after losing an entire year to injury, when there were calls for his head in May, is nothing short of amazing.
Martinez is on pace to hit .300, drive in 80+ runs, and his bat is considered so valuable to the Tigers’ cause that the team is seriously considering playing him at catcher in World Series road games, where the designated hitter doesn’t exist.
This isn’t a comeback, it’s a reincarnation.
They shouldn’t call it the AL Comeback Player of the Year Award. It should be renamed the Victor Martinez Trophy.
Mariano Rivera won it, in his final year before retirement. V-Mart fell victim to sentiment.
On the Red Wings’ struggles:
These are tough times for Babcock’s bunch, just 12 games into the season. He has some guys he badly would like on the ice but just can’t be, due to injury—like Darren Helm, who is exactly what the Red Wings need right now. Patrick Eaves will be dressing for the first time, Wednesday in Vancouver.
Babcock also has guys who are new and who were supposed to be a big deal but who haven’t been yet—Stephen Weiss, for starters. Daniel Alfredsson, to a lesser degree.
Babcock has a defenseman, Brendan Smith, who is confused and prickly for being scratched. He has had to split up Pavel Datsyuk and Henrik Zetterberg, which the coach is loathe to do, because when he does so, it usually means that something is wrong.
And something is wrong with the Red Wings right now. This time, Babcock doesn’t need to give us a hard sell on it.
“Right now, with the way we’re playing, we have no chance,” he said after the Rangers game.
No eye rolling from anyone this time.
And the struggles continue…
On the Tigers’ search for a new manager:
Now, as to who might get the job?
Keep these guys in the mix for now.
McClendon. Dusty Baker. Brad Ausmus. Jim Tracy. Ozzie Guillen. Tony Pena.
The reasons are as follows, for each man respectively.
Already interviewed. Past success. Mike Matheny redux. Dark horse but brilliant mind. Crazy enough to work. Experience, can relate to the plethora of Latin-American Tigers.
Dombrowski, it’s been reported, will likely wait no longer than the first 10 days of November before choosing his new manager. This gives us about two weeks or so to see the focus shift to the finalists, as news of interviews comes to light.
Regardless, this is a great job for the right person. But the right person must know that if the 2014 season isn’t capped with a parade down Woodward Avenue, there will be hell to pay.
Ausmus got the job, and let’s hope he dialed Matheny and thanked him.
On retiring manager Jim Leyland:
Leyland didn’t always push the right buttons, but what manager does? He was slave to pitch counts. He wasn’t particularly aggressive or creative. The move of Jhonny Peralta to left field, when it comes to Leyland, was almost off the charts. It was Mickey Stanley to shortstop-ish.
But the players adored him. And when players like the manager, they tend to play better. That’s a fact.
It still stands alone. Leyland wasn’t able to rip that year from the wall. It’s 29 years and counting. That gap makes the 1968-84 wait seem like nothing.
Leyland, thanks to the emergence of the Internet and talk radio, was nitpicked and criticized more than any Tigers manager prior to him, combined.
But would we have nitpicked and criticized, if the team was dreadful?
Isiah Thomas, the great Pistons point guard, once said that fans don’t boo nobodies.
Translated: only the irrelevant escape feeling the heat.
The very fact that Jim Leyland, in his eight years managing the Tigers, faced so much criticism, is actually a testament to the man.
Here’s wishing the Marlboro Man all the best in retirement—though it is a soft retirement of sorts. Leyland will still advise President/GM Dave Dombrowski.
On the trials and tribulations of Michigan football this season:
Hoke, while not the popular first choice, at least had some Ann Arbor pedigree.
He was a Michigan Man—a term that is beginning to be more laughable than serious these days.
Hoke, frankly, looked more like he belonged at Michigan, coaching football, than his predecessor. His name even sounded more like Michigan than his predecessor, if you want to be even more superficial.
To Rodriguez’s muscular build, good looks and Latino last name, Hoke offered a squishy body, a moon face and a name of a left tackle.
To Rodriguez’s mild manner and soft voice, Hoke’s demeanor conjured humorous comparisons to the late comedian Chris Farley’s satirical motivational speaker.
Then they started to play the football games.
And here, near the end of Year Three under Hoke, the Michigan football program is in no better shape now than when Rodriguez was given the ziggy.
It may actually be worse.
Hoke’s most critical year as U-M football coach will certainly be 2014.
On the legacy left in Detroit by 1B Prince Fielder, traded to Texas for 2B Ian Kinsler:
Detroit sports fans are simple folk, and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. In fact, far from it.
Here’s what they want, and it’s very simple.
The Detroit sports fan only asks that you, as one of their athletes, show that you’re just as torn up as the fans are about failure.
They want to know that you feel their pain.
Fielder, in two post-seasons as a Tiger, not only failed miserably on the field, he failed miserably in the court of public opinion. He never really made us feel like that he was “one of us.”
Not once in either playoff did Fielder say, “I stink. I know a lot is expected of me and I’m just not getting it done.”
That’s all he had to say. And the forgiveness would have been plenty.
Instead, after the 2012 World Series sweep at the hands of the San Francisco Giants, Fielder deflected criticism, essentially saying that fans better not look at him cross-eyed, because he’s one of 25 guys.
Those comments didn’t get too much play. They were spoken almost in a vacuum. But he said them.
Fielder will always remain an enigma in the Old English D.
On the Tigers’ new manager, Brad Ausmus:
Ausmus is 44—just a few years removed as a player. He was one of the best defensive catchers of his time. He has worn the Old English D, as then-GM Randy Smith kept trading Ausmus, and trading for him. But to Leyland’s resume as a manager, Ausmus offers a big baseball brain and not much else.
Ausmus has yet to be second guessed. He has yet to hear his name besmirched on sports talk radio. Nobody wants to fire him—yet.
It’s the cleanest of clean slates—a manager with not a speck of big league managing experience.
It’s also a hell of a risk.
The Tigers aren’t a team in development. They’re not in rebuilding mode. This isn’t a situation where a manager and his players can learn on the job, together. This job isn’t warm and fuzzy. It’s win or else.
The Tigers expected to win in 2011. They expected it again in 2012. The pressure to do so in 2013 was off the charts. So what do you think expectations will be in 2014—Ausmus’ rookie year as a big league skipper?
GM Dave Dombrowski apparently feels that Brad Ausmus, all 44 years of him, has what it takes to enter this win-or-else pressure cooker and come out without being so much as scalded.
I still maintain that Ausmus’ hiring is a risk, but I believe it is less so, after some thought and Ausmus’ answers to the questions put forth to him since he was hired.
On the Lions’ plummet from division leaders to being on the verge of missing the playoffs:
The Lions should be cruising, on their way to the playoffs.
They could still get there, of course, but if they don’t, there ought to be repercussions.
The infamous winless Lions season, in which they became the only team in NFL history to go 0-16, was five years ago. That is ancient history when you’re talking about a league in which teams’ records go up and down like an EKG reading.
Head coach Jim Schwartz is in his fifth season. He has a losing record in four of those years. The Lions did seem to be trending upward after Year 3, when their games won went from two to six to ten. But last year the Lions regressed badly, to the tune of 4-12. If the charge was that they got too full of themselves after a 10-6 record and going one-and-done in the playoffs, then shame on them—and on Schwartz.
This year’s team started 6-3 but has become as wobbly as a Weeble.
If the Lions don’t win the division this year, they will have no one to blame but themselves. And the apologists who would tell you that this somehow still shows improvement are part of the problem.
The Lions must not only make the playoffs, but must win a playoff game for Schwartz to earn trust back that has been lost since the 2011 season.
If owner Bill Ford can shake himself free from the yoke of blind trust and loyalty, and let his football people—and his son—make some decisions that may be difficult but necessary, then the Lions will finally show the football world that they are through with moral victories and settling.
The Lions blew it, Schwartz lost his job, and the gag job was complete.
On EMU football:
A few weeks ago, longtime pro and college coach Jerry Glanville let it be known that he was tossing his cowboy hat into the ring to be Eastern’s next football coach. His interest isn’t a joke. Glanville is dead serious.
EMU should be dead serious about Glanville, by the way. Hiring a big name guy is about the only thing the school hasn’t tried. Glanville’s hiring would put EMU football on some people’s radars again—and that by itself is a great start to resuscitating the program.
Besides, Glanville is the only big name coach who appears willing to come to Ypsilanti. I’d hire him in a heartbeat.
EMU didn’t listen to me (big surprise) and hired former Drake coach Chris Creighton. Frankly, the university did the right thing. Now, if they’d only return Hurons as the school’s nickname…
There it is—2013 at a glance. As usual, I was right a little, wrong a bit more, and that trend will probably always be the case.
Happy New Year!