Big 12 refs steal one from OU

I have just watched the ending of the worst-officiated game in college football history. I'd show you the replay, but apparently in the Big 12, replays are presented for the TV viewing audience's amusement only.

I'm referring to the final seconds -- the final quarter, actually -- of Texas Tech's alleged 23-21 victory over Oklahoma in Lubbock.

The so-called winning touchdown came when Tech's Taurean Henderson stretched the ball over the goal line, well after his body had already been tackled to the ground.

This followed an even more ludicrous incomplete pass that the officials nearly ruled a touchdown (it was reversed, thankfully). And that was preceded by a fourth-down spot that gave the Red Raiders at least two feet and a game-saving first down.

All three plays were reviewed. Only the end zone pass was properly reversed. (The receiver never actually caught the ball).

You'll seldom see me mention an official's call in one of my columns. I'll leave the referee-complaining to the head coaches.

But the ending of the OU-Tech game was so blatantly mishandled, it totally altered the outcome.

Tech's second-to-last touchdown, come to think of it, shouldn't have been allowed, because the receiver left the field of play and came back in to make the catch. Again, the replay showed it, but it wasn't corrected.

On the fourth-down catch, Cody Hodges' pass was deflected, and Danny Amendola made a terrific play to wrest the ball from an OU defender's hands. But he was at least two feet shy of the first down mark when he came down with the ball.

The officiating crew seemed to be more interested in determining who had possession than it did in correctly marking the spot. The bogus first down kept alive Tech's winning drive.

The Henderson "touchdown" was a gutsy call by Tech coach Mike Leach, because he knew that a running play would run out the clock. But calling a run didn't fool the Oklahoma defense. Henderson was wrapped up, twisted, and his body clearly appeared to hit the turf one yard short of the goal line. The end zone TV camera probably showed it best.

Again, however, no official aggressively came running in to mark the forward progress. Even the official that was nearest the play didn't call a touchdown. After a few seconds, an official -- the line judge, I think -- came in and threw his touchdown signal into the air.

If the Big 12 is going to have instant replay and ignore it, why bother even reviewing a call? The officiating crew in Lubbock needs to be tagged, dipped for fleas and banned by the conference from ever doing a Big 12 game again.

Were they intimidated by the home crowd? Mad at Bob Stoops? Too leg-weary by the fourth quarter to call the game correctly? We'll probably never know.

What I do know is that Oklahoma should be headed to the Cotton Bowl, not Texas Tech. The disputed "victory" puts another asterisk on Tech's patsy-inflated 9-2 record.    

Stepping up to the Mike

There is little doubt who's the king of this jungle.

A broad oak tree. A manmade rock hill. A waterfall. And for those warm Louisiana summers, his own swimming pool.

Mike the Tiger never had it so good.

Officially, he's Mike V, the fifth in a 69-year line of Bengal tiger mascots owned and cared for by LSU. The current mascot is a teenager, having celebrated his 16th birthday just two weeks ago.

Before each LSU home game, Mike is transferred into a trailer cage for the short ride across the street to Tiger Stadium. His handlers park the cage just outside the visiting team's locker room during pregame warmups.

Then, Mike and the LSU cheerleaders circle the playing field, stopping in front of the student section where Mike, on cue, traditionally delivers a lusty roar.

His permanent home, just outside of the north end of the stadium, is brand-new. Funded entirely through donations from LSU fans, the new habitat is 15,000 square feet and overflows with plants and assorted tigerly creature comforts. There are no bars in the traditional "tiger cage" sense.

Rather, like many modern municipal zoos, the new habitat uses wire netting and natural barriers to protect visitors to Mike V's home. His story, and those of bengal tigers, in general, are told at various points around the habitat's perimeter.

He's a typical cat, though. Some of the nation's finest zoo planners and LSU veterinary school minds combined to design Mike's new home. So where was he on a sunny Sunday, before the Saints-Dolphins football game?

Sleeping on a shady sidewalk, tucked away in a hard-to-see corner. No roars today. Just yawns.