Listen to me, Oregon football players — I have a message for you: Don’t listen to me.
You go out, take this week one game at a time, and win the day. I’ll watch at home on television and enjoy myself. If you win, oh, how I will enjoy myself.
 
You see, two years ago I was at a friend’s house to watch the Ducks, ranked No. 2 in the nation at the time. We had a nice party, with about two dozen people over and plenty of food to stuff ourselves with.
 
I could look up the details of what exactly happened during the game for reference, but I don’t care. All I know is, I have sat through good Oregon games and bad Oregon games as a student, reporter and fan. That Arizona game made me physically ill.
 
As I recall, Oregon was doing OK. Not great, but passable. Arizona was unranked, out of the bowl picture, and out of mind for most of the Pacific-10 Conference. The Ducks were, uh, ranked No. 2 in the nation and on their way to a possible national title with three winnable games — Arizona, UCLA and Oregon State — in between. Suffice it to say, things didn’t work out that way.
 
Anyway, offensive coordinator Chip Kelly had the offense going for the most part — couple mistakes here and there — and Arizona looked inspired but unimpressive. At some point, Dennis Dixon tried to make a cut on a knee that had a partially torn anterior cruciate ligament. Only Dixon, his father and maybe a suspicious member of the training staff had any idea. The Oregon coaches later said they did not know, and Dixon later said that, in some capacity, he didn’t want to let his team down by not playing.
 
Dixon crumpled to the turf. His season was over.
 
Oregon’s season would be before too long.
 
Brady Leaf came into the game. That’s all I care to say, because my mother occasionally reads my columns and I have to be civil and logical in my criticisms of others. (You know, professionalism.) I refuse to do so right now.
 
I wanted to black out. I wanted to wake up. I wanted to lie down on the floor and not look at the television screen until Oregon had the game securely in hand. I decided on the latter.
The Ducks lost, by a final score of I-Don’t-Know to Why-Oh-Why-Am-I-Torturing-Myself-Like-This-Right-Now. I walked home dazed and encountered a small party on the chilly Thursday night of whenever that game was. I don’t care.
 
“Hey guys. (Expletive) Brady Leaf, right?” a member of the party said before putting his can of Natural Ice to his face and holding it there.
 
Indeed, hard-partying sir. Indeed.
 
Oh, and of course, the students rushed the field. It always hurts to see fans rushing the field against your team. And not just any fans, but the Zona Zoo. I mean, really, guys? They do not compare to Oregon, in my opinion, for the loudest student section. Apparently they have a board of directors and are hyper-organized, which is nice, but I didn’t care then and I am professionally indifferent now.
 
Generous and beneficent members of the Oregon football team, I kindly ask you through my professional platform to do what I cannot: Destroy them. Physically impose your will upon the Arizona Wildcats. Score like you never dreamed of on a Saturday night. And then score some more.
 
Mike Bellotti, when he was head coach, set a personal limit of 72 points because he felt uncomfortable after putting that amount up against a weak Nevada team one year. Team, I want you to score 172. Make Arizona look like Cumberland College’s junior varsity squad.
Still not listening to me? Good.
 
I don’t doubt your ability to prepare yourselves week-to-week. Your bounce-back effort against Arizona State was good, if a little sloppy. I feel as though I can confidently say — despite a whale of a game yet to be played on the regular-season slate — that you will be mentally prepared for the task at hand.
 
Pace yourselves.
 
Dec. 3 is the Civil War. Saturday is my Uncivil War. I want it merciless and
offensively potent.
 
But I’m willing to settle for a victory in the end.


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