Before 1986, the University of Wisconsin and Rodney Dangerfield had nothing in common.

The acrimonious comedian and the Dairy State’s most prestigious institution of higher learning unquestionably came into this world under entirely different terms. While UW-Madison stepped into academia in an antebellum America, searching for a peaceful resolution to a country torn apart, Dangerfield made his stage debut seeking to get a few cheap laughs in the turbulent years before World War II.

Naturally, the university took foothold while Dangerfield did not, eventually ending up installing one of the hot commodities of the day: aluminum siding.

As the school made breakthroughs in the fields of science and the arts for the majority of its life, Dangerfield struggled to eek out a living as an entertainer in the smallest of venues. Finally, when the university at last struck a wall in the ’70s — a budgeting crisis that threatened both the quality of education at UW-Madison and its virility as an institution of research — the intrepid Dangerfield entered into the most prosperous of times.

Then, in 1986, the year of Bill Buckner and the Challenger explosion (I’ll leave it to the reader to determine which catastrophe is greater), these two paths became intertwined at last, as Dangerfield and UW-Madison both shared a prominent role in the cult classic “Back to School.”

Perhaps it’s fitting now that as everyone delves oh-so-deeply into their fantasies regarding the Beantown damned, that one and all explore the true meaning of this kindred bond.

Because (or at least it seems to me), like good ol’ Rodney, the Badgers never get any respect, any regard at all.

When Wisconsin toppled Ohio State in the treacherous Horseshoe, analysts pointed to inconsistencies in the Buckeye veterans. When the Badger defense crippled the insuppressible Purdue attack, football experts wondered “What went wrong with Kyle Orton?” Last but not least, as Alvarez’s crew faced the red-hot Basanez-Herron tandem, pundits queried amongst themselves which screw would come loose in the Badger artillery.

At the same time …

Never once did they extol young Wisconsin linebackers Reggie Cribbs, Dontez Sanders, Mark Zelewski or Andy Crooks for their spectacular development.

Never did they present adulation to the talents of the Badger front four, quite possibly the best in the nation.

Never has their curiosity stretched so far as to entertain the absurd notion that the group’s success could be attributed primarily to the astute play calling of defensive coordinator Bret Bielema.

And certainly, they thought, not even in the wildest dreams of the most mulish of Badger die-hards, could Wisconsin ever be considered an earnest contender for the national title.

So, many thoughts come to mind in the midst of an 8-0 season. Yet, despite the greatest efforts of a studious observer, no equation, scoop or inside information ever illuminated the complete destiny of one afternoon of college football, needless to say an entire season.

After all, not even the most reckless of dreamers could script the greatest moments in sports history.

So why is it so hard to believe in this program?

In Alvarez’s tenure, Wisconsin has posted a 107-67-4 record, earned nine bowl berths, including three Rose Bowl appearances (with a record of 7-2, 3-0) and has sent 44 players to the NFL. Yet despite all that success, the Badgers have never been genuinely considered a national contender by the press at large.

The reason can be chalked up to marketing. Though dominating players have always abounded, they’ve never adequately filled the role of a media darling. Defense may win championships, but it scarcely wins ratings, and even the Wisconsin defenses haven’t been overstocked with electrifying playmakers.

On offense, UW typically runs a blue-collar attack — punishing ground assaults with an at-best-supplementary passing game. Granted, Ron Dayne chipped in more than his share of miraculous performances, but even the NCAA’s all-time leading rusher didn’t start breaking away until defenses began to wear down. Suffice to say, in this age of five-second attention spans, it’s difficult to ask a national audience to wait through three quarters of smash-mouth football to see some razzle-dazzle.

This year in particular, the story holds true. Despite boasting a defense that has allowed fewer points per game than any other defense in the country, it takes little effort to see the lack of headline potential among this gritty squad. A quick walk around the Badgers’ facilities after practice, however, reveals their true nature: plain and simple, often Paytonesque, blue-collar resolve.

Consider the secondary, a ragtag team of coverage specialists, led by a country boy from Tony, Wis., who stands eye-level to even this vertically challenged sports writer.

Consider the linebacker corps, a hastily assembled crew from a variety of positional backgrounds (Dontez Sanders was still listed as a defensive back coming into the season).

Finally, consider the Wisconsin ground attack, a talented group headlined by Anthony Davis, UW’s lone contributor to the highlight reel, but nevertheless a group that has been ravaged by injuries throughout the season.

In many ways the Badgers prove a testament to hard work and the value of good coaching. In the national scope, that quality remains an unseen virtue. Now, as Michigan continues to tear along since their early-season loss to Notre Dame, they’ve already eclipsed the Big Ten frontrunner in the eyes of many, in part due to the explosive running of freshman Michael Hart.

Unfortunately, the two conference forces are not slated to play, and allegations continue to brew that the Wisconsin gridiron proletariat will remain unproven, barring a Big Ten BCS showdown. So on that note, Badger backers, what I’m about to suggest may seem a bit unorthodox, but hear me out.

Pull for the Wolverines. Hope against hope that both teams run the table, even though a Michigan loss or two would all but assure a fourth Alvarez conference title. Relish the thought of Chad Henne, Michael Hart, Braylon Edwards, Ernest Shazor, Markus Curry, all the blue and yellow elite squaring up against the Badgers healthy and in-sync.

It’s been three weeks since the great Rodney Dangerfield passed away, a somber reminder that all things must come to and end. In 10 weeks, the books close on the 2004 football season. How will the Badgers be remembered? As the undisputed champions of the Big Ten, or as the team that dodged the mighty Wolverines?

Respect must be earned, taken if necessary. I’m sure Rodney wouldn’t argue with that.