A Brief Eulogy for the Bad Old Days

In the bad old days of Duckdom, every year was a rebuilding year. They were picked 8th, 9th or 10th in the conference, and hoping to win four games, maybe sneak in an occasional winning season. Dick Enright, Jerry Frei and Don Read were on the permanent hot seat, and even though Rich Brooks brought Oregon football out of the basement over seventeen years his leash was never very long. Irritable grumbling began every time he ran off tackle on third and eight.

Brooks climbed to 6-3-2 in 1980 with Reggie Ogburn but fell back to 2-9. They reached the heady heights of 8-4 in 1990, Bill Musgrave's senior year, but returned to dismal without him at 3-8. Musgrave threw for over 8300 yards as a Duck. We were sad to see him go.

Things are different now. But as fall camp ends shrouded in mystery, Duck fans are wise to remember where we were or we'll forget where we're going. Provided our new quarterback asserted himself this afternoon behind closed doors this could be a magical year. The one where we hug each other like Sox fans watching Johnny Damon and Big Papi break The Curse of the Bambino. Coaches have to be cautious and cite the cliches but we don't: the Ducks are the favorites to repeat as conference champions, and there are multiple reasons why. It's giddy territory for a fan base that a generation ago only hoped to avoid embarrassment, like another 0-0 tie.

Younger fans probably can't imagine. Twenty seven years ago Oregon was the joint loser of the Toilet Bowl, and today we're talking about prospects for a return trip to the Rose Bowl. It's a different time. Now, the last two Civil Wars have been for the Rose Bowl. Then, drenched and discouraged and shaking our heads, in a time where we couldn't have texted, tweeted, blogged or emailed, we just had to console each other and hope next year wouldn't be worse.

They made a bowl for the first time in ages in '89, a ridiculous Mizzlou television network broadcast played to 25,000 empty seats in Shreveport, Louisiana. Long before the tarballs it was a misbegotten place. In '90 they made the Freedom Bowl, and in '92 they took another crack at the coveted Weedeater Trophy. Then in '94 they made the Rose, played January 2, 1995.

The first time back at the Granddaddy was bittersweet. Ki-Jana Carter of Penn State took it off tackle for eighty yards, the Ducks got in close before half time and couldn't punch it in. Oregon's Danny O'Neill set a Rose Bowl record throwing for 465 yards (who knew Rich Brooks would let a quarterback throw that much--61 attempts). They Ducks were proud to be there but a little overmatched. They vowed to come back. They did, but it took fifteen years. It was another bittersweet day, watching LeGarrette Blount kick a ball on a stretch play from the red zone, watching the ball bound all the way to the Ohio State end zone, watching seven points turn into despair. Masoli had them moving just before half (a familiar theme) but suffered a tipped interception. The Buckeyes turned it into three points.

The second half was torture. LaMichael got dinged and Blount added that bitter postscript to The Punch. Pryor's desperation pass to his tight end, with four Ducks all around him, has that balloon come down yet? For the Ducks, the game fell brutally short of what they were capable of. The game had an agonizing slow-motion feel to it, like they were playing mud or quicksand. You'd watch plays unfold and make a sound like Darth Vader when his beloved dies: "Noooooooooooooo." Here's Pryor in trouble in the pocket...wait, he slipped away. Somebody TACKLE him!!!! I still don't have the taste completely out of my mouth. I hope the kids remember it a little too.

For all the Oregon Ducks have accomplished in the last two decades, despite the heady national recognition and the reputation for dazzling, entertaining football and a splashy presence, the resume feels incomplete. There's a missing item in the trophy case.

I never worry about national titles. The possibility to contend is out there, and that's wonderful. But the BCS is a tainted popularity contest hopelessly skewed toward the South. My measure of excellence and ultimate achievement is very simple and clear, and it's decided on the field in a nine-game conference round robin.

I want the Ducks to win the conference title, outright, and win the Rose Bowl. Anything more would be a bonus. Anything less will be a disappointment.

Without clear expectations you'll get murky results. Go Ducks.