Izzo: The Modern Day Robert Johnson

Editor's Note: This article was submitted by "Nat McCarron" aka my friend who is a Super-Indiana Hoosier-fan. She wrote an article last year on All-Star NBA Players she would take on in a fight.

I believe most people who haven't spent their lives under a rock are familiar with the story of how Robert Johnson went down to the Crossroads and sold his soul to the devil so that he could play the blues guitar. It's a classic tale that combines the desperation of a young man wanting to better his position and skills with the intrigue of the most basic of existential predicaments: would you sell your soul to the devil for your most instant desire?

I honestly didn't think this happened anymore. For example, I accepted the fact that American Idol was a pop-culture phenomenon and Simon Cowell might actually be liked by the general public. I bought into the notion that George W. Bush was fairly elected by the electoral college. I was even willing to believe that Fergie might actually be talented enough to appeal to a pre-pubescent fan base who would legitimately purchase her records. But Tom Izzo is another story.

I have to admit, I wasn’t convinced of his innately evil depravity until this Sunday’s basketball game against Indiana, where Izzo's Michigan State Spartans outscored the Hoosiers by 30 points and shot 80% during the first half of the game. Finally, during the second half, I caught a reflection on the backboard – and it was probably a reflection I was not supposed to see, and I’m not sure how many other people caught it. The reflection looked like Tom Izzo, but it was so much more evil. Plus, you know, Tom Izzo doesn’t wear a red cape or carry a red pitchfork.

At one point, there was a three-pointer, shot all the way from Ann Arbor, and by no uncertain terms, it should NOT have gone in. There’s just no way it was able to deviate from it’s haphazard course and into the basket like that – unless it had a little help. And that’s when I saw El Diablo staring right back from the glass. It suddenly made sense! Tom Izzo went down to the Crossroads, and made a barter, and that is what happened on Sunday afternoon! There is simply no other explanation for what happened during this game! And then, when I thought about it more, I came across absolutely conclusive evidence:

Exhibit A – Jack Breslin Student Events Center - Sure, it would appear that the Spartans play at a student center named for a generous benefactor. However, when you rearrange the letters of that name, here’s what you get:
Dante’s Cult Sent Brine Jerk Events C
Is it simply a coincidence that re-arranging the letters of this dark and deceptive pit of debauchery incites imagery of Hell itself (Dante’s Inferno anyone?), and cult activity involving corrosive substances and horribly hellish participants? And the letter C? C as in "Curse" or "Cult" or "Come-on-over-and-I’ll-send-you-to-hell-Love"!
Lucifer? Really? Coincidence? I think not.

Exhibit B – Tom Izzo is rocking the Prince of Darkness ‘Do - Is there anyone who disagrees that Satan has dark hair? Not since Rick Petino’s spot-on rendition of Al Pacino in “The Devil’s Advocate” have I been more convinced that the Devil is alive and well, and currently resides in East Lansing, Michigan. Such an evil haircut – it was actually the initial plan for Javier Bardem’s evil hairstyle in “No Country For OldMen” but ultimately considered “too sick, twisted, and sinister” for such a gentle, kind-hearted character. True Story.

Exhibit C – They’re the Spartans - Spartans are evil. Simple as that. They just are. Did you know that the opening weekend gross of the movie “Meet the Spartans” was $6,660,000? Yeah,that’s right – 666. Plus, they look stupid. Those dumb outfits, and they’re too much of punks to wear the official headdress and regalia. How insulting. If they’re going to embrace such a sinister mascot, don’t half-ass it. Punk ass bitches.

And I rest my case. With evidence so compelling, it’sonly a matter of time before Miles Brand will comedown from his high horse at the NCAA and ban "bartering with Satan" from the game, which I firmly believe will bring a breath of fresh air to the sport of basketball and to the NCAA as a whol, and open up the market for other creatures who wish to barter for skills as well.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the soulistic barter, or at least the fable of it all, but Spartan Basketball is not on par with Robert Johnson’s blues guitar. If Izzo did, as I suspect, trade his soul for a great game, he got hosed.