Let me tell you about the time I tried to play a football game and accidentally entered the seventh circle of network hell.
Minnesota versus Iowa. A classic Big Ten showdown. A bitter rivalry. A game steeped in history, pride, and bacon-shaped trophies. But this year, it wasn’t about football. Oh no. This was about survival. Endurance. And figuring out if it was my controller, my router, EA's sad excuse for servers or just God Himself trying to stop this game from happening.
Imagine this: you're trying to call a play. Simple, right? Except after the first 6-second there's about a 90% chance the game gives you a digital middle finger and pretends you never touched your controller. The rest of the time, you're just staring at a frozen playbook screen like it’s a Magic Eye puzzle that never resolves. Pick a play too late? Congrats, you're getting flagged. And not just once. Every. Single. Drive.
We agreed to decline the penalties, like gentlemen. But the game decided that was griefing. Griefing. The only thing being grieved was my will to live. Eventually, EA's servers—who I can only assume are powered by a 13 year old hamster on a wheel—decided enough was enough and just kicked us out entirely. Repeatedly.
It got to the point where we weren't even trying to win. We were just trying to finish a drive without getting booted or penalized into oblivion. This wasn't football. This was an interactive therapy session for anger management.
Iowa somehow managed to function enough in this madness. Maybe they trained in this environment. Maybe their offensive coordinator is a wizard. Or maybe they just hit "A" fast enough to squeak through the laggy abyss. Who knows. I stopped caring sometime during the third disconnect.
Was there a final score? Unfortunately, yes. 17-3, Iowa. A completely unwatchable, borderline unconstitutional, lag-fest of a game. But technically, it counted.
Did anyone really win? Debatable. But what I do know is that the real MVP was the shared misery. The camaraderie. The bond forged through frozen screens and delayed audibles.
So hats off to Iowa. You may have taken Floyd of Rosedale—but I took home Pain, sadness, And possibly carpal tunnel.
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