Considering 6-4

It's so easy to deride 6-4. It's all over the internet today, this being the 10-year anniversary of Iowa's dramatic 6-4 victory at Penn State in 2004.

It was 6-4, a score that promises sepia highlights with Gary Cooper playing quarterback and Vince Lombardi before he looked like Costanza's dad. It's the definition of anachronism. Now that yards and points are cheap, 6-4 is the Kajagoogoo cassette tape at the bottom of everything in your box o' memories.

Yes, that dude had that crazy, spiky blond haircut. It's horrific in most every other time code, except for that blink in the ‘80s when 'Too Shy” was your girlfriend's favorite song.

This guy, Michael Weinreb has written about 6-4 a couple of time. Man, he hated it. I'm linking him not because I totally agree with him, but the writing is so damn good and relevant to the topic that I think you need to read it. Here is an incredibly relevant post from this summer on assessing blame at Iowa and whether or not the current malaise is all on Kirk Ferentz or the power/population shift in the U.S.

(An aside: Yes, last week was monumentally frustrating, it also was Iowa's first Big Ten loss. The Bret Bielema memes on Twitter this week have given me a chuckle. Reality is Iowa still has a say in its destiny. Save the big angst for later. You may or may not need it.)

Here, David Jones, columnist for the Harrisburg (Pa.) Patriot-News, references the 'hard-shell helmet era.” It's always cool when you can reach back for a leatherhead reference. Those don't come around too often.

David asks, is a 6-4 even possible today? He says no, and I agree. Shutouts have become Big Foot anymore.

Here the Penn Live guys, all terrific writers, post what they wrote in the wake of 6-4. All great stuff.

And here's a piece from The Gazette's Mike Hlas. It was written in 2012, a reflection on all the emotion that swirled around the game.

It's almost parenthetical in some of these memory pieces I'm seeing today. Ferentz buried and eulogized his father, John, that week. It receives a genuflection and then back on with why 6-4 is a crime against humanity.

John Ferentz died early that week after a lengthy illness. Kirk Ferentz went through his Tuesday news conference and there wasn't a hint of loss. Then, the news trickled out.

Kirk and his son, Brian, a guard for the Hawkeyes, left the team Tuesday and didn't join the travel party until Friday afternoon.

The Iowa coach delivered the eulogy at his dad's funeral Friday. The next day, he coached the Hawkeyes to a tense touchdown-less victory over the team and coach he grew up with and admired deeply.

Son, brother, dad and coach, it was an emotional churn that ended with the coach holding the game ball in the Iowa locker room.

'I know what my dad would've wanted,” Coach Ferentz said. 'My dad was a Hawkeye fan. I darn well know what he wanted. He wanted us to push forward.”

The Ferentz family is a football family, through and through. All but Kirk's mom, Elsie, and a great-aunt were among the 108,062 fans at Beaver Stadium. Elsie Ferentz, who passed away in 2007, might have made it, too, but the great-aunt had to take her to a dialysis treatment Saturday.

'I'm fortunate to be surrounded by great people,” Ferentz said. 'I was able to do what I had to do, be with my family, which is the most important thing.

'Today was the best medicine for the entire family. The ache still is there, but this certainly helps.”

What unfolded in front of Ferentz when he put on the headphones was a three-hour headlock. It required major-league decision-making. It required a coach at the top of his game.

Ferentz made the call to give Penn State a second safety with 8:04 left in the game. It wasn't an easy decision, allowing the Lions to pull within two points. But with Iowa's defense at full bore, it was the right decision.

'It was a gamble,” Penn State Coach Joe Paterno said. 'But his defense was playing well. He has a good kicker, and we weren't going anywhere.”

The play after Ferentz gave Penn State two points, cornerback Jovon Johnson picked off Michael Robinson.

'You could see the game was setting up that way,” linebacker Abdul Hodge said. 'We were playing strong, why not put it on us?”

It was a day lit by a 40-watt bulb. Then, in the fourth quarter, the sun cracked the clouds. You guys might think I'm going schmaltzy here, but I swear the sun beamed in on Kirk Ferentz on the sideline just as he gave his some James a big hug, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

I don't handle death well. To me, it's an intensely private matter. When someone around me is affected, I give them warm regard and everything they need, but I always try to gauge how much they want me around. I have the blueprint for how I'll handle the big deaths in my life, but you know what Mike Tyson said. Everyone has a plan until you get punched in the face.

The whiplash emotions Ferentz went through that week, I still have time conceptualizing. When my parents pass, I know I'm going to a cold lake in northern Wisconsin to reach for the warm moments. I'll want peace and quiet. I owe my parents so much, I can't even fathom it.

Coach, father, son, brother, Ferentz had to have those many shades of life flash into his mind that Saturday with headphones on.

'It was almost like he [John Ferentz] planned it,” Brian Ferentz said that Saturday. 'He hung around for Ohio State to see us beat them, and he made sure we were coming this way, anyway.”

Maybe I'm soft. We all like to think of ourselves as keepers of some stupid flame. Ask tough questions (we do), yada, yada, yada. I try to be smart and fair questions, I try to keep people talking.

I'll never see this strictly as a 6-4 game. I can see 6-4 as a frame, but I'm drawn in by the picture. The picture takes me places I don't expect or really even want football to take me.

l Comments: (319) 398-8256; marc.morehouse@thegazette.com