(Ed. Note: I already hate that I call these things “Stream of Consciousness”.  Partly because my spellchecker doesn’t work on the subject line, and I never think I spelled “consciousness” correctly.  Plus, it sounds lame. But the intention was good, so I feel compelled to remind anyone reading this why these game previews are called “stream of consciousness”: It’s because I don’t edit them.  Some posts I’ll write one evening, re-read and edit the next day, and then post.  These are raw, “here’s how I feel as the game butterflies arrive” words.  I know – you don’t care. “Just put up your score prediction so I can mock it, Blogboy.”  I’ll get to that.  Just know that my intention with these previews is to entertain you by cathartically purging my pregame jitters live on the internet.)

I work with a guy who went to Arkansas.  At the beginning of the week, we discuss what went right/wrong (mostly wrong).  At the end of the week, we discuss the upcoming game.  It’s the job of the other guy to lead into the discussion if the other  team won.  He gave me a “finally exorcised the Michigan demons, huh?” a few weeks ago, I tossed out a “South Carolina’s tough – nice win” this past Monday.  I thank my lucky stars hourly that he’s not a Missouri fan.  I might switch jobs were that the case.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon’s discussion went like this:

Him: “So you can keep your bowl hopes alive this weekend, huh?”
Me: “Yes, strange as that may sound. I almost wish we’d lose this weekend just to put the thought out of my head.”
Him: “No you don’t.”

He’s right.  I don’t.  I want to win.  Badly.  I want to eat 25% less at the Thanksgiving table because of pregame Cincinnati jitters.  I want to hold on to hope, even though we’ll likely give up 42 points to Cincy – by halftime.  I want to play with scenarios in my head like “you know, we’re the absolute perfect trap game for Cincinnati, with WVU the week before and Pitt the week after.”  I want to drink bowl game kool-aid like “If we’re 6-6 and Minnesota is 6-6, you have to think the Insight Bowl takes us over Minny.”  Mostly, I just want to remain in the game.  I want a few more weeks of delusion before the reality of yet another disappointing Illini Football season sets in. I hate the postseason “well, this was definitely worse than 2002, but the feeling after that 3-3 tie at Wisconsin in 1995 was probably the bottom of the barrel for me” game.

So to keep the carrot dangling, we need to win tomorrow.  How do we do that?

1. Keep it simple for Charest

I’m knocking on both my desk and this little wooden clipboard as I type this, but we’ve really cut down on the INT’s this season.  We’ve only thrown 1 interception since McGee’s pick-6 against Michigan State (Juice in the Purdue game).  Sure, that “off his shoulder pad deflected right to a defensive tackle” interception is coming soon, and we can endure that.  I just want to see us continue to keep it simple with Jacob Charest.  Dinks and dunks with the occasional seam route.  No 17-yard outs where he locks in on his receiver and gets picked by Northwestern’s getting-healthy secondary, please.  We’ll need to pass it well, for sure – Northwestern isn’t going to be as dumb as Minnesota and stay home on read-options when even my wife knows Charest isn’t running the ball.  I just want us to continue to be patient.  I won’t mind the boos tomorrow when we’re running it on 3rd and 11 – keep it simple, play field position, and don’t give up any bad turnovers.

2. Free Derek Dimke

Matt Eller has made one of his last six field goals.  Making one out of four is a slump.  One out of five is laps after practice (can kickers run laps?). One out of six means the bench.

This reminds me of a story. At Camp Rantoul, I was over leaning against the south fence, watching the secondary go through some backpedaling drills.  I looked to the left to see the kickers on little-used Field #3, doing nothing.  They were standing around making fun of Mike Cklamovski for something.  All of them had already kicked for 45 minutes, there was an hour and a half left to practice, and they had nothing left to do.  I watched them for the next two days – same thing.  Stand around, make fun of Kyle Yelton’s facial hair, play punt golf where they all try to land the ball close to the south goalposts, make jokes about Darryl Ballew’s gut… and then huddle up and go shower.  It’s not that they never practiced – they did.  It’s just that their legs are likely on a kick limit for each day of camp, and once they reach that, it’s “can I toss the ball over my head, kick it with my heel, and split the uprights” time.  Such a strange camp existence.

Anyway, Dimke has a gigantic leg.  Let him use it.  (Clarification: he doesn’t really have a “gigantic leg” as in, like, a gargantuan right leg or something. I’m more referring to the fact that he put a kickoff deep in the endzone against Michigan – into the wind. Give the kid a shot.)

3. Give me a senior step-up

Tomorrow morning, when putting on his pads, Doug Pilcher needs to have a “you know, this is my last ever Big Ten football game” moment.  As he laces up his shoes, Chris Duvalt needs to think “I have two more chances to make that acrobatic touchdown catch at home”.  As he approaches the tunnel, Donsay Hardeman needs to think “no better day than today to get 2 interceptions”.  I want to see urgency, led by the seniors, playing like there’s a bowl game on the line.  Because technically, unlikely as it may be, there is.

So that’s it right there.  I just want to keep hope alive.  I don’t want to start thinking about the Charest-Scheelhaase-Whitmer battle in Spring Ball for a few more weeks.  I want to continue to live in salvaged-season fantasy land.  I want to come back here in two weeks and predict a shocker over Cincy.  I want to belIeve.

Illinois 23, Northwestern 17