Adam Hicks
Writer
Whew! Somebody grab the milk because the Indiana Hoosiers just served the UCLA Bruins a five-alarm, double-scorched, chili-pepper-level beatdown.
From the opening snap, Indiana was delivering that five-alarm spice. Aiden Fisher jumped UCLA’s second play like a jalapeño stuffed with jet fuel, snatching a pick-six to start the sizzle. Then came Fernando Mendoza, tossing three touchdowns and running in another like a toddler biting his first habanero. The man was in his bag, or maybe his spice rack. Let’s not forget Roman Hemby, who diced up the Bruins’ defense for 81 yards and two touchdowns, adding a little extra kick to the recipe. By halftime, it wasn’t a game; it was a full bottle of Hoosier heat five-alarm chili sauce.
UCLA tried to cool things down, but Indiana’s defense had other plans. Every Bruin drive got doused like a match in hot sauce. Nico Iamaleava and the offense? Cooked extra spicy — if we’re being generous. By the end, Indiana had piled up 475 total yards to UCLA’s sad 201, walking out 8–0 and looking every bit like a playoff dish too spicy to handle. The Hoosiers didn’t just bring the heat — they emptied the spice rack, lit the stove, and left the Bruins sweating through their helmets.
Final: Indiana 56, UCLA 6
The fog didn’t just roll across Husky Stadium that night — it breathed, curling through the stands and sliding across the turf like cold fingers. The Illinois Fighting Illini stepped onto the field, hearts pounding, senses screaming that something was wrong. But the air was thick with a predator’s patience. The Huskies were waiting, unseen, silent… watching.
The first snap shattered the uneasy silence, and Demond Williams Jr. moved like a demon, gliding past defenders with impossible speed and precision. Each throw was a slash in the night, each completion a whisper of doom. The Illini stumbled, frozen, hearts pounding, unable to comprehend how something so human could move with such otherworldly menace. And then Denzel Boston emerged, ghostlike, moving like a demon himself, catching, juking, and even throwing ten catches, 153 yards, and touchdowns raining down like curses. Every step they took, every play they ran, the Huskies were there, unseen, relentless, hunting. A chill ran down Illinois’ spines, a premonition of doom they couldn’t escape.
Illinois clawed back briefly, closing the gap to 17–14. For a heartbeat, they thought they’d survived. But the fog shifted. Dezmen Roebuck darted through the shadows twice, and the Huskies’ defense slammed like iron jaws, snapping every attempt at reprieve. Panic spread. Missteps became terror. Every second on the clock dragged like a knife across their nerves. By the fourth quarter, Husky Stadium was a graveyard of hope. The scoreboard was a tombstone carved in silence. Washington walked off the field without celebration, their shadows merging with the mist, leaving the Illini trembling, hollowed, hunted.
Inspired by Washington’s 42–25 massacre of Illinois
The sun dipped low over Lincoln, painting Memorial Stadium in long shadows. The turf shimmered in gold and dust, and the air crackled with anticipation. Nebraska and Northwestern faced off like gunslingers in a frontier town, eyes locked, each snap a trigger pulled, each play a heartbeat in a deadly duel.
The Cornhuskers struck first. Emmett Johnson barreled through defenders for a 9-yard touchdown, announcing early that Nebraska wasn’t backing down. Northwestern responded with field goals, chipping away at the lead, testing Nebraska’s nerve. The first half ended 7–6, but the true battle was just beginning.
In the third quarter, chaos erupted. Kenneth Williams roared down the field on a 95-yard kickoff return, a blur of speed and fury that left defenders grasping at shadows. Nyziah Hunter followed with a 12-yard touchdown reception, driving the Cornhuskers’ lead higher and sending the home crowd into a frenzy. Each play felt like the crack of a rifle in a dusty street, every yard fought for like survival.
But Northwestern was no easy target. Caleb Komolafe tore off a 56-yard touchdown run in the fourth quarter, tying the game at 21. The clock bled down. The tension was unbearable—like the pause before a duel’s final gunshot. The crowd’s cheers and groans merged into a low hum, a soundtrack to the approaching storm.
Nebraska’s final drive was a study in precision and grit. Thirteen plays, sixty-four yards, every handoff and pass deliberate, every step measured. With 2:44 remaining, Johnson plunged into the end zone for the decisive 4-yard touchdown. The whistle blew. The dust settled. The Cornhuskers walked off victorious—worn, relentless, and forever etched in the legend of the prairie showdown.
Final Nebraska 28-21 over Northwestern
Snubbed but Unbroken, Iowa didn’t just beat Minnesota, they crushed them. Mark Gronowski accounted for three total touchdowns, rushing for 78 yards and throwing for 164, while Nathan Bloodworth added 102 rushing yards and two scores. The defense dominated, holding Minnesota to just 178 total yards, forcing two turnovers and recording five sacks. Special teams made their mark as well, blocking a field goal and returning a punt 24 yards for a touchdown. Every play, every yard, every tackle was a statement.
And yet, the Top 25 pretends Iowa doesn’t exist. True lies. Teams with shaky records climb the rankings while Iowa, after a decisive victory over a ranked rival in one of college football’s most historic rivalry games, is invisible. Floyd of Rosedale wasn’t just a trophy today—it was a symbol of pride, a reminder that Iowa is a force to be reckoned with, snub or not.
The Hawkeyes don’t need polls to validate them. Every touchdown, every stop, every perfectly executed play is a middle finger to the system. The scoreboard tells the truth the Top 25 refuses to see: Iowa is real. Iowa is dangerous. Iowa is here to dominate. The snub? Fuel. The win? Proof. And as the Hawkeyes hoisted Floyd of Rosedale, the message was clear: rankings can lie, but history remembers winners.
Final 41-3 Iowa over Minnesota
Two of the Big Ten’s basement dwellers collided in a game that looked like Harry and Lloyd wrote the playbook. Purdue jumped to a 10–0 lead, and fans muttered, “Yeah, that’s the ticket!” Passes flew sideways, punts bounced like oversized bowling balls, and every missed tackle screamed, “So you’re telling me there’s a chance?”
Rutgers fought back. Athan Kaliakmanis led a touchdown drive that felt like, “Big Gulps, huh? Alright!” Purdue fumbled more than Harry misplaces his luggage. Ryan Browne’s throws seemed to ask, “Hey, you got any Grey Poupon?” before disappearing into the wind.
With four minutes left, Purdue led 24–21. Then came the chaos: a fumble at their own 30-yard line, a gift wrapped in dumb luck. Jai Patel nailed a 30-yard field goal as time expired. “So, you’re telling me there’s a chance?” Yes, yes, he did.
Fans left laughing, quoting, and shaking their heads. Rutgers drove off like Lloyd in the dog van, victorious and ridiculous, while Purdue muttered, “I got worms!” Football may be serious business, but this game proved the Big Ten can also be gloriously, hilariously stupid.
Final 27 -24 Rutgers over Purdue
After last week’s tough loss, the No. 8 Oregon Ducks came out fired up and delivered an angry beatdown, crushing Rutgers. Clearly motivated, Oregon dominated every phase of the game, racking up 750 total yards while quarterback Dante Moore threw for 290 yards and four touchdowns. Running back Noah Whittington added 125 yards and three scores, showing the Ducks were not holding back.
On defense, Oregon smothered Rutgers, forcing turnovers and limiting them to just 202 yards. Coach Dan Lanning said the team played with the edge he expected—this wasn’t just a win, it was a statement. After a setback, Oregon responded with authority, making it clear they’re not backing down.
Final 21-7 Oregon over Wisconsin
East Lansing. Michigan stormed in like, “Did we just become enemies? YEP!” Justice Haynes ran for 152 yards and two touchdowns, leaving defenders thinking, “Why are you so sweaty?” Bryce Underwood added a rushing touchdown, muttering, “This is the funnest game I’ve ever played!”
Michigan State tried to respond. Aidan Chiles threw for 130 yards, Makai Frazier ran for 109, and backup QB Alessio Milivojevic hit a late touchdown—but Michigan’s defense crashed on them like well the boat in “Boats and Hoes,” crushing every drive while Spartan fans whispered, “I swear, I’m going to kill you!”
Final score: 31–20. Michigan walks away victorious while Spartan fans are left muttering expletives from the movie Stepbrothers. Justice Haynes ran through defenders like he was wrestling a giraffe to the ground with his bare hands, and Bryce Underwood dodged tackles like, “I’m Dale, but you have to call me Dragon.” Every big play felt like a drum set smashed with balls flying everywhere, leaving Spartan fans thinking, they survived the Catalina Wine Mixer.
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Stephen Leonard
Writer
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