Game 12 Preducktion: The Civil War, for a Berth in the Natty

The Beavers are an enigma wrapped in a puzzlement shrouded in a cloud of can-do self delusion. Five weeks they have played like potential conference champions, and five weeks they have played like the buck-toothed, tick-infested, tunnel-dwelling rodents that they are.

For Saturday afternoon's game they will work themselves into a hip-hip-hooray frenzy. They are the little brother in the backyard brawl. They will prance through their tacky giant inflatable helmet, which looks like a giant prop from a sale at Wal Mart. They will Tongan war dance and head bob and jump around and wave towels to the crowd, half of which will be wearing green and yellow and looking on with bemused indifference. They will be fired up.

Fired up is the most useless emotion in sports. Fired up lasts ten minutes. Fired up jumps offsides, overpursues on cutbacks and makes personal fouls. Fired up runs out of gas when it trails by fourteen. Fired up makes a big show until talent punches it in the mouth.

The Beavers have drank so much of the lunch pail, little school that could, we-just-play-hard Kool-aid they actually believe it. They wear a big orange stain on their faces, a stain of self-conscious inferiority and me-tooism. Remember when they painted their field blue to get fired up for Boise State? How did that work out?

Only rarely has a school taken so much pride in mediocrity. The Beavers are what the Ducks would be without top rate facilities, talent and depth. On Saturday there'll be an initial flurry of wasted energy and unfocused fury, and then will come the blocking and tackling and execution of a vastly superior football team. Here's the unvarnished truth: despite their flashy reputation and infinite uniform combinations, the Ducks work hard too. In fact, they work at the fiercest tempo in football.

Oregon 38, Oregon State 24

The Beavers will learn how wide the gap is between trying hard and excellence. Excellence wins.