I suppose, in light of the best game I've ever seen, it's only fair to Cats fans to mention the worst game I've ever attended, also one that involved Northwestern. It made me want to kill Gary Barnett to death, a seething rage that continues to this very day. And as long as he's never President, my murderous rage shall never be illegal.

So without further ado, an ode to November 9, 1996.

Fuck you.

Fuck you, Darnell Autry. Fuck you and your 240 yards. Fuck your four touchdowns.

Fuck the bitter cold. Fuck the snow that teased us for 30 seconds during halftime. Do you have any idea what the game would have been like with half a foot of powder on the ground by gametime? No?! Well neither do I, but there's no goddamn way it would have ended worse than 40-13.

Fuck the clock operator that kept a second on the clock before halftime so Northwestern could kick a field goal. Whose side are you on, anyway?! If the other team's got the ball near the end of the game, once that clock hits six seconds, you do not stop it for any goddamn reason. So they spiked it at 0:05? Tough. You didn't hear the whistle. Guy runs out of bounds? Then, uh, forward progress or something. Whatever. You certainly never, ever keep a second on the clock if Steve Schnur is sailing a pass through the back of the end zone and aiming it into one of the Sousaphones.

Fuck Sousaphones.

Fuck you.

Fuck Wisconsin. I gave up tickets to that game to see Northwestern instead. Iowa ended up winning the Wisconsin game one week later in a 31-0 squeaker, where Ron Dayne totaled about 60 yards and just as many cupcakes. No, watching one of Iowa's 10 worst home losses in the past 30 years was much, much more important.

Fuck all of you fucking fucks. I hope you get butt cancer and when you take a dump, your brain falls out all covered in shit.

The end.

I'd never left a game early before, and I haven't left one early since. But that night, I understood why people plunge themselves to such mental depths over college athletics. And I was unfortunate enough to meet Alcoholic Daddy for the first time.

Why did Iowa lose by 27? Was it something I did wrong?

Anyway. That's all done now. Darnell Autry's not walking through that door. D'Wayne Bates's not walking through that door. [JOKE REDACTED]* The only effect that a game in 1996 has on this coming contest is the one on fans' psyches. Nonetheless, Iowa's got to win at Northwestern, something that's only happened once in the last 13 years. Seriously. Let's hope they can, because any bowl committees aren't going to be very impressed if Iowa's only win away from home came at Soldier Field against Northern Illinois. Also, I think people are starting to wonder why I keep "falling down the stairs" so often.

*I know. It was an indefensible cheap shot. And while I'm not deleting any of the other 300+ indefensible cheap shots that comprise what's known as "my entire comedic repertoire," this is one I wouldn't be able to defend to either this man's family or mine. --OPS

Alcoholic Daddy has suffered a severe relapse, folks. Last week was a good week, and this week was a very, very bad week.

Evidently, Ken O'Keefe got into the Seagram's and started downing gimlets like they were stem cells and he was Michael J. Fox. While we can certainly appreciate his tastes in tipple, perhaps a road game in which Iowa had three scholarship receivers dressed isn't the right opportunity for Christensen to throw the ball 40 times.

Sadly, though, we had to sit and watch in horror as Alcoholic Daddy stumbled through the door, punched the birthday clown, and screamed, "This is what you wanted!" over and over while the children cried. Except instead of a birthday party, it was a football game, but whatever.

If you really want to see institutionalized ineptitude, you'll be rooting for Iowa to come out in a spread formation this Saturday.

So said I before the Illinois game. Iowa stuck to their guns, fed AY the ball almost 30 times, and controlled the clock and pace of the game.

Such was not the case, unfortunately, against Purdue. No, while Christensen was flinging the ball all over the place, Young didn't touch the ball in the second half.

"THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED! THE OFFENSE IS OPENED UP! WE'RE USING THE WHOLE FIELD! AAARRARRGHGHGHHH!!" O'Keefe yelled. And we, like poor, beaten, depressed young children, hung our heads in shame and blamed ourselves.

Let's get some coaches sent off in handcuffs or something. It's time to end the cycle of pain.

The Hawkeyes have turned into Alcoholic Daddy, hurting our hearts the way only a trusted figure can. Seven straight conference losses, and no hope on the horizon.

Jake Christensen doesn't use the belt. He boils pots of coffee just so he can have something to throw at us.

Luckily, they fly 5 feet over our heads.

Tacopants may never recover.

Is this a family anymore, Hawkeyes? When will you stop hurting those who love you the most? When will you stop pushing away the people who want to help you? You call it encouraging them to transfer; I call it tearing this family apart.

We don't dare suggest that Jim Leavitt wouldn't do this to us. That's a whoopin'.

It would be one thing if it were effort in the face of failure. That's not the case.

This isn't about us. It's about you. This isn't about us. It's about you. This isn't about us. It's about you. This isn't about us. It's about you. This isn't about us. It's about you. This isn't about us. It's about you. This isn't about us. It's about you. This isn't about us. It's about you.

And that is what hurts the most.

That and losing all the fucking time.