This picture pretty much explains why we got crushed last night. I know Troy Smith’s numbers appear to back the overhyped Heisman Jinx, but to me his lousy night had a lot more to do with the five guys in front of him — and those guys in blue shirts on the other side of the ball.

We can only speculate on a few things that might have made a difference in our offensive offensive performance. The guys all denied that the 51-day layoff was behind our flat showing, but I have to think it made a difference. Offensive football is all about timing, and timing simply won’t be as sharp after almost two months off as it is when you’re playing week after week.

I’d have to guess the factor of being a presumptive favorite — as opposed to being a heavy underdog as we were in the 2003 game — played into this as well. We heard over and over last night about Urban Meyer playing up the chip-on-your-shoulder angle to his players, and it looked like the Gators bought into their coach’s spiel completely. We played like we expected to win and were surprised when the other team showed up and played well.

The final intangible? The injury to Ted Ginn. It’s impossible to say what impact he would have had if he hadn’t been injured, but you have to think having a guy with his speed on the field creates match-up problems for Florida that they didn’t have with Teddy standing on the sidelines.

There are some more concrete things, especially on the offensive side of the ball, that made a huge difference. I just mentioned match-up issues; unfortunately, they were ours and not theirs. Gator DBs were good enough to cover our guys one-on-one for the most part, freeing up their linebackers, for example, to spy on Troy, which upped the pressure on him considerably. If Ginn is healthy, that might not have been the case, at least not consistently.

And then there’s the speed thing. It’s very simple — overly so — to reach the conclusion that our O line couldn’t cope with the speed of Florida’s defensive linemen and linebackers. There were situations when our guys got beat one-on-one, but there were just as many instances when mistakes contributed to easy sacks. The second-quarter hit when Troy coughed up the ball deep in our end? If I remember correctly — and I’m not going back and reviewing the tape, boys and girls, so you’ll have to trust my memory — Alex Boone had stepped to the inside for pass protection and allowed the defensive end to get into the backfield untouched. That would have made life difficult for Johnny Unitas; its effect on Troy Smith last night was pretty clear.

So. That’s why I think the Heisman Jinx is a bunch of hooey. On the few occasions Troy wasn’t running for his life, he didn’t have anywhere to go with the ball. He had no chance.

One last thing about the offense. I’m in no way qualified to question Jim Tressel’s play calling, but I do wish we had made more of an effort to run the ball. We have two exceptional tailbacks, and with the exception of our lone scoring drive and that, um, interesting decision to try to convert a fourth down in our end, we didn’t give the rushing game a fair shot. Look at the quarter-by-quarter stats: first, 0 yards rushing — the handful of attempts were negated by sacks; second, when we put together our one drive, 49 yards rushing; the third and fourth, when we were so far behind we had to throw, were 12 and -14 respectively. When we stuck with it, the running game worked; it also would have kept the Gators’ offense off the field for a while. And that would have been a good thing.

The defensive performance appeared to be equally ugly, but I think that had more to do with the fact that through penalties and turnovers, we consistently gave Florida a short field to work with in the first half. The second half was a different story. We played the field-position game much better and held the Gators to 150 total yards — and just one touchdown — as opposed to 220 yards and 34 points in the first.

But as was the case with our rushing game, by the second half, that pretty much didn’t matter.

***

I tried to avoid ESPN and the sports pages today — waaaay too depressing — but I did spend a little time poking through the message boards on the Dispatch’s web page, and saw a few aggravating-but-predictable “Fire Tressel” posts. To those who feel that’s the way to go: avoid stepping in front of Uncle Crappy’s car, because the driver won’t be inclined to slow down. The program is in better shape than it’s been in years — in terms of football, academics and even, as Tressel promised six years ago, in the community. If you’re going to base your opinion of this coach or any other on one game, you’re an idiot. Period.

***

I wrote a fair amount about taking a long time to get really pumped up for this game. I attributed my lack of passion to the fact that I felt like I was about to die for much of last week. But in hindsight, I wonder if I was subconsciously hedging against doubt. Kristi referenced a similar notion in her game-day post, wondering if she was feeling “calm confidence” or “weary dread.” Perhaps I was in the same boat; perhaps I knew this wasn’t going to be good.

***

So the game is just about over. The Wife, who’s been battling the same cold I have, was exhausted and was already in bed. The cat, who usually hides behind the couch when Ohio State football is on because of all the yelling and jumping and stuff, felt comfortable enough by halftime to come out from the cave — not a good sign. But as the clock ticked down to zeroes, Miles, who had been playing for much of the evening, decided to climb into my lap, curl up and start purring. Ahhh.

There’s no way that he knew how much I needed that right at that exact moment. Or maybe he did.

***

Here’s the bottom line, folks. That was a great season. Avenging last year’s loss to Texas. Beating Michigan for the fourth time in five years. Our first outright Big Ten title in a couple decades. Twelve wins. One loss. An appearance in a game that 115 other Division I teams wished they could reach but couldn’t.

And hey — the basketball team is looking pretty good…