Double-icing and the magic of the Menace

Pittsburgh kicker Chris Blewitt shanked a 27-yard field goal attempt at the end of regulation, allowing the Blue Devils another chance to win.
Pittsburgh kicker Chris Blewitt shanked a 27-yard field goal attempt at the end of regulation, allowing the Blue Devils another chance to win.

There are those who will say Duke should have lost and that the Blue Devils got lucky against Pittsburgh. And they may be right—but they've never double-iced a sophomore kicker.

After witnessing possibly the craziest football game of my football-watching career—rivaled only by the 2003 Divisional Round NFL playoff game between the Carolina Panthers and St. Louis Rams—I had simply too many thoughts to just break this down analytically. So here it is: how to win a crazy college football game like Duke did Saturday afternoon.

Always double-ice

Did you get the memo? Double-icing a kicker is a thing of genius and here's why:

With two seconds left in Saturday's game, Pittsburgh head coach Paul Chryst took a timeout to prep his kicking unit. Duke head coach David Cutcliffe followed suit after both teams had lined up. That's fine—no surprises there. It's what normally happens in those situations, and for the majority of Blue Devil fans it was just delaying the inevitable sobering loss. But then, after both squads were re-lined up and ready to snap the ball, Cutcliffe did it again.

"There is no question [I would call the timeouts], I had three," Cutcliffe said. "All you are trying to do is break a rhythm and maybe set your own rhythm. You don’t ever know [what is going to happen]."

Of course there was no question—you always double-ice.

And unlike Cutcliffe prior to his double-icing call, we do know what happened. Unfortunately-named Pittsburgh kicker Chris Blewitt pushed it about as wide left as he could and the game headed to overtime.

The shrewd move from Duke's head coach made up the first of four keys to Duke's unlikely win—the second was not losing it earlier in regulation.

Don't fear the shootout

When Cutcliffe was faced with first-and-goal from the one-yard line following senior Jamison Crowder's 27-yard reception with just three seconds left in the first half, many thought he had a decision to make: kick a field to climb within four or go for the all-or-nothing touchdown. The difference between what the masses thought and what was going on in Cutcliffe's head—the masses don't have Thomas 'The Menace' Sirk in their back pocket. (Sidenote: whoever gave Sirk his nickname is a genius, playing off of Brandon 'The Phantom' Connette.)

Sirk plowed ahead, just like he would later in double-overtime, and the Blue Devils went into the half tied at 28-28.

That decision was part of overcoming recent history, because by halftime it was clear the game was shaping up to be a dreaded shootout.

Prior to Saturday's contest, Cutcliffe's Blue Devils were just 1-6 in games in which both teams scored at least 34 points—the scientific definition of a shootout. The sole shootout win came against Virginia Nov. 6, 2010, as the Blue Devils won 55-48 thanks to a late score from then-sophomore running back Desmond Scott. But since then, Duke had gone 0-5, including barn-burner losses in both of its bowl games in the past two years.

In the Belk Bowl in 2012, the Blue Devils could not keep their composure late, falling apart against Cincinnati in the fourth quarter. Against Texas A&M in the Chick-fil-A Bowl last December, an untimely interception and the late-game magic of Johnny Manziel doomed Duke yet again.

Against Pittsburgh, the Blue Devils had all the composure and all the magic—just ask Blewitt.

Heading into Saturday, Blewitt ranked 10th in the nation in field goal percentage at 90 percent. The now-infamous 26-yard field goal—which really should have been a chip shot—was not made any easier when Pittsburgh quarterback Chad Voytik ran for three yards to the right hash at the eight-yard line. With less than 10 seconds left in the game, knowing a chance for a game-winning field goal was coming, a run to the hash from close distance was a bizarre play.

"With that personnel group in and the clock going, it gave us an opportunity for a run that we had numbers on," Chryst said. "We had a chance to run to the short side and get out of bounds, but we didn't."

Less than 10 seconds left and the Panthers, who thought they had numbers, decide to run the ball? An interesting call, to say the least. There would be more of them.

Somebody stop him (not you, Coach)

The third key came in overtime and could have been used by either team at that point: just stop somebody (and make sure it's not you stopping yourself.)

Pittsburgh running back/wrecking ball James Conner was the definition of unstoppable Saturday. He ran for 263 yards and three scores on 38 carries by the time it was all said and done, good for 6.9 yards per rush. He ran through and around Duke's defense and, at one point, literally threw Breon Borders to the ground. (I've watched that Vine at least 15 times, and no, it does not get old.)

After Conner bowled his way through the Blue Devils for the entirety of regulation and the first overtime—he ran for the game-extending score in the first period to match Anthony Boone's 12-yard run—Chryst made two more very interesting decisions.

Conner had been held to less than three yards—the length of a two-point conversion try—on just seven of his 38 carries all afternoon. Two of the seven times went for one-yard touchdowns and three more went for first downs on short-yardage situations. So when Chryst decided to just go for the extra point—with a kicker who had already missed a chip shot—the play-call was confusingly conservative when a two-point conversion would have won the game.

Then, in double-overtime, Chryst and the Pittsburgh offensive staff held Conner off the field as freshman running back Chris 'Not James Conner' James ran for no gain on first down. The next play was a bootleg run by Voytik for no gain. The next play was an incomplete pass out the back of the end zone. Three plays in double-overtime and the best player on the field did not touch the ball. Football's weird that way, I guess.

After these shenanigans, a heavy dose of Shaquille Powell set up The Menace to come on and do his thing. Because every time Duke needs five yards or fewer, he always picks them up. Just as with The Phantom before Sirk, Cutcliffe knows a good thing when he sees it. And if nobody else can stop it, he makes sure everyone else sees it too.

I got the magic

Disclaimer: These keys are not chronological. I hope you've picked up on that by now. And they are also not ranked by importance. But if there's one thing you need to remember about Saturday's game, it's that it proved to us that in college football, magic is very real.

Example No 1: Chris Blewitt's last name

Example No. 2: DeVon Edwards'—a.k.a. Mr. November's—99-yard kickoff return

Example No. 3: Duke won a game in which Pittsburgh dominated the time of possession 41:08 to 18:52, one the nation's top kickers shanked a would-be game-winning chip shot, the Panthers out-gained the Blue Devils by 156 yards and employed a mobile brick wall as their running back.

"That was a classic college football game. I’m certain that one will be on the list of ESPN’s long list of classics," Cutcliffe said.

I agree. And as long as Duke keeps on double-icing opposing teams' kickers and letting The Menace do his thing, the Blue Devils will have a chance to use some of that pixy dust on Florida State in December.

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