After Saturday’s loss, I resigned myself to going outside to do some yard work and take my pent-up frustrations out on the leaves in my yard. As I mulled over the pasty, foul taste in my mouth, I came to a conclusion. Virginia Tech football has angered the football gods. I reflected back on the season thus far, thinking about how we just can’t seem to catch a break. Biero’s non-holding “holding” penalty against Cincinnati. The referee’s sudden change to flag football rules, and the lack of the replay official to see what was so clear on all of our TV screens against Clemson. Then I found myself thinking back beyond this miserable season. Weather forces cancellation of the spring game. Last year’s Sugar Bowl and what has to be one of the most egregious missed call in history, with Danny Coale’s (yes, it was a) catch. A flood of bad breaks and shoulda, woulda, coulda’s crossed my mind. The inexplicable pass interference call against USC. Ernest Wilford’s drop against Miami. The string of images flickering through my mind was like a depressing mental slide show. It made me realize that Virginia Tech is becoming the Chicago Cubs of college football. Forever on the outside, looking in at the national championship party. I struggled to think of a reason for this. Do we have a “curse of the Bambino” kind of thing going on? I don’t know of anything in our football history that would warrant one. Has the empty trophy case brought doom upon us? I can’t imagine that Jerry Claiborne or Bill Dooley have pulled out voodoo dolls or anything. Could a past player have put a hex on us? (I know what you’re thinking, but some of this started WAY before Sean Glennon).

I have no idea why, but I feel that we have transgressed somewhere, somehow. Maybe Frank sold his soul somewhere in the past. I’m not sure, but something has really PO’d the great mystical football powers-that-be.

All this brought me to one conclusion. No matter what has caused our malaise, deep down inside, most of us innately know the solution. We know what must be done to appease the football gods. A sacrifice must be made. And I venture a guess that we all have a really firm idea as to the sacrificial lambs. All that is left is for Beamer to make the long climb up the volcano.