Those Who Leave Get Something, Too

This will be the last time I write about college football, so forgive me if it goes on too long. Maybe pour yourself a glass of something to accompany the story of Michigan winning it all from this one guy's perspective as I hang up my spurs...

Previously, so I don't have to mention what I already mentioned, The Last Battle and A Game for the Generations.

I caught a wonderful bug back in the mid 00s. 

The conflagration of an unhealthy obsession with Michigan football and inspiration from a few very talented people transformed my entire timeline into something different, and dare I say better. You're right. This is getting silly. Let me back up.

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I wasn't born a Michigan fan. Growing up in Chicago, I rooted in general for Big Ten teams, some more than others, though never, ever Ohio State. Some things can be clear even to a little boy with limited skin in the game. But I must have liked Michigan just a bit more than the rest. Because in 5th grade when we had to invent CVs and simulate the job application process, I put that I had graduated from Michigan with a degree in "computers."

That CV proved prophetic, as I would go on to be one of the last people called up to the Michigan academic roster from the waitlist just days away from high school graduation, leading to my immediate decommitment from Illinois. Feeling fortunate, freshman orientation got me incredibly excited for the future. I had a brief moment of pause when they told us the final day's process: you file this paperwork, you go to this office, wait in line for that piece of paper, set up your uniqueid for Wolverine Access, and then you buy your football tickets and you're done. It was odd to me that the buying of tickets was a foregone conclusion. Did we have to do this? I did it, like everyone else, and of course in hindsight this was a privilege, not a burden. But I still wasn't a Michigan fan yet.

The team had finished the previous year undefeated, though bizarrely with three ties. Tyrone Wheatley was a superstar set for his junior season which began with a 31-0 trouncing of WSU. This led to a showdown with Notre Dame, a team I had grown up despising. The moment the Irish scored a touchdown to go up 24-10, it was a knife to my gut. I was suddenly all in. One month later, a trip to East Lansing for a dispiriting defeat poured salt in the wound which cauterized in the form of an undying need for Michigan to be victorious in all things.  My undergrad years passed like that. Teams with all the potential in the world, but with enough stumbles to end up with four losses every year. Individual four-loss seasons had only occurred four total times over the previous 25 years. It was patently clear to all of us that we were unfairly cursed and no undergrad class would ever again suffer like we did.

Off in the real world the next year, and working in Schaumburg, Illinois, I was happy to have several Michigan colleagues in my department. We all agreed that Brian Griese being named starter was an indication that we were in for another rough ride. This notion was proven false early in the 3rd quarter against Colorado, and further refuted every week thereafter. I was fortunate to be only one year out of school, with plenty of friendly sofas to crash on and made it back to nearly every game. The glorious season culminated in a stressful New Years Day morning in Pasadena, frantically trying to find the ticket I'd hunted every day since The Game. I did get one. It turned out to be a fake. But I deftly slid my way into the stadium with it anyway, landing in "my seat" with about 27 other Michigan fans trying to cram into a single specific spot in the Wazzu section. I bounced around for the entire first quarter until I finally found a vacant one, and witnessed what would end up being Michigan's last major triumph for what would prove to be a lot longer than anyone could have imagined.

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I remember how I first arrived at MGoBlog. SI.com had been the sports website uniquely active in linking non-mainstream content, and they noted one of Brian Cook's early posts. I believe something to do with Lloyd Carr's jowls. This find came at the right time for me, as I was hungry for ever more content, and slowly becoming less and less enthused by my day job. It turned out there were even more sources of information and mirth beyond my favorite mainstream writers. My shifting priorities increased with the 2006 season. The blogosphere was growing, and Brian had hit his stride, which raised my connection to the team even further in a season that ratcheted up the intensity with each passing week. 

It all pointed to the ultimate showdown in Columbus, which left so many indelible moments. They still come like flashes... "Bo died," was the group text my friend Aaron sent us the night before. Then, the Game of the Century aka Football Armageddon. The wrong cleats. Mike Hart bringing us back. A late hit out of bounds to extend Ohio State's drive... Some tears. Many nights of lost sleep for many years afterwards. 

I harvested one golden egg from that time. Anyone could start a blog, and around this time Michigan had a ton of 'em. In fact, nearly all the other teams had them, too. And they all shared this rebel spirit. There were enough of them around the country that Brian could run a weekly blogpoll that mirrored the AP version. I soon decided I had to give it a shot.

I started writing concert reviews, and then goofy takes on Arnold Schwarzenegger movies, and then whatever the hell I wanted. It was much more fun than my day job. And some people liked what I was writing. All the while my obsession with football intensified further. If MGoBlog could do all this, maybe I could, too. So I quit my job and drove around the country, met people, went to football games, and wrote about it. That blogging community was thriving, and they were waiting for me with open arms at every stop. It was going to cost me one season of Michigan games, but what was the worst that could happen?

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Since that season was 2007, it turns out the answer was quite a lot. So it was that on the first Saturday of the season I found myself in South Bend, interviewing friendly and engaging fans who loved Notre Dame in almost the exact same way I loved my team. Many of them took a moment to inform me that Michigan was having trouble with Appalachian State. I wasn't worried. Michigan teams had played with their food in these early non-conference games before. We would be fine. 

We were not fine. I had to hear the unfathomable final score from the Notre Dame stadium announcer. This resulted in the loudest cheer of the day as the Irish would proceed to lose 33-3 to Georgia Tech. Small solace, that. I felt like it was all somehow my fault. I had abandoned my team in its time of need, and this was my penance. A week later in Baton Rouge, LSU fans' friendly taunting as we got depantsed by Oregon didn't help matters. 

It wasn't such a horrible season in the end, and I still had some Michigan moments from afar and up close, most notably watching Mario Manningham break Sparty's heart from a Columbus hotel bar. A close second was seeing all of my friends back in Ann Arbor for The Game, despite the morose outcome on the field, what with our injured backfield. What we didn't yet realize at the time, was that we were not Michigan anymore. And we wouldn't be for a very long time.

That trip changed me in ways I did not expect. I shook off my shy introversion and had more belief in myself. If I could do all that, meet all those people, get halfway decent at writing that quickly, what could be next? 

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I moved to Buenos Aires at the start of the next season, on a two-year work plan. Seeing games there was not easy. There was one bar, El Alamo,  that showed college football. They had one slingbox connected to a cable box in the US. But you had to cajole the bartender into putting your game on, at the expense of everyone else who wanted to watch a different game. For non-marquee opponents, there was no point in even going. Having to follow games via the online play-by-play tracker is no way to live. This is how I "saw" Michigan football lose at home to Toledo, when instead of displaying a made game-tying field goal, that tiny football icon indicating possession flipped from the good guys to the other guys, with no change to the score. We were definitely not fine. After that loss, I posed the question: "Has any college football fan base been through more torture over the past four seasons?" 

People often asked me what I missed from home, and aside from friends and family, Michigan football was top of the list. Nobody around me cared, or even really understood the game. And when I was unable to watch, gaining the fan understanding through the Michigan blogosphere, MGoBlog in particular, made it all very bearable.

I stayed in Argentina longer to get married, having met my beautiful wife thanks in no small part to the crazy roadtrip that never would have happened without this blogging endeavor, and then moved to Switzerland where I still am today. 

Michigan continued to flounder. The memories of the RichRod and Hoke eras that remain, aside from Denard Robinson's considerable sparkle, are dreary at best. Enduring a Michigan and PSU 3OT blunt instrument duel that ended at way-too-damn-late European time should have been enough to finally beat the fandom out of me. But I hung in there.

From 1993 to 1996 we thought we were cursed, even though we beat Ohio State three out of four years. And after losing to Toledo in 2008, we didn't think it could possibly get any worse. Wrong; wrong! At long last we trudged onward into the Harbaugh era but the suffering continued, even as things improved. Each year ended in devastation. 

Still living abroad, I rarely had anyone to talk about this stuff with. Technology improved and watching some games became easier. Watching The Game became tougher as Fox strangled most forms of international leakage. It became an annual tradition to watch over skype thanks to my friend Mike pointing his laptop at his TV. These sessions always ended in sadness and hatred at the throngs of jolly Buckeye fans plastered across the screen, regardless of whether the game was in their stadium or ours.

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The Game in 2021 seemed to be just another setup for disaster. There was no sensible reason to believe we could win. Long-term negativity had taken hold of me and almost everyone I knew. We felt like we were in a "bad relationship" with Michigan football, even as that season went along. Mike told me he thought we were going to win. Mike who was standing right next me as we planned our Rose Bowl trip during the Colorado game in '94, mere minutes before, yes, that. For some reason I didn't trust him. On an early Hassan Haskins run up the gut for 12 yards, I said to Mike "this is some Biakabatuka stuff right here..." Hope surged. So did the O-Line. Buckeye souls were broken. Goliath was slain. So much joy in Mudville.

In 2022, at the exact same time as The Game, Argentina was playing a do-or-die group game against Mexico in Qatar. My passionate wife watched that on the TV in the other room. My kids bounced back and forth between broadcasts, and my daughter jotted down a lot of new vocabulary in multiple languages as our usual parental filters were on the fritz. Michigan of course was not favored, but dominated anyway. To win that game, even without Blake Corum available, indicated that we truly had the better program. Onwards and upwards. Argentina would go on to win the World Cup in glorious fashion, and I started to believe it would all come together for both my teams. Which made the TCU game all the more heartbreaking. Even after our most joyous season in 25 years, it ended with a very bitter taste in our mouths.

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But the hope didn't fade. I told my supportive wife at the outset of the 2023 season, "We are going to be really good this year. Really good." This was in part marking my territory for the coming Saturdays, but also indicative of a new mentality for Michigan fans. She came on board only in 2008, when we met. Her understanding of our program was that we were destined for misery and always ever choking away winnable games. I was trying to convey that this year could be different. 

There were the silly suspensions at the outset that had nobody the least bit worried. No big deal. The first significant play of the season featured Mikey Sainristil intercepting a pass from a purple team, and we were off and running. They stomped everyone they faced. Nearly every game was over by halftime, and hardly any opponent scored more than once. The most hilarious play of the season happened against Rutgers when Mikey Sainristil picked off a 4th down pass, tackled teammate Junior Colson, and took it to the house, 30 seconds before my son's bedtime. Sweet dreams for all.

The season already had a now-or-never vibe. If we could not get over the hump with this group, with this schedule, with The Game at home, with Harbaugh's regime now firing on all cylinders, maybe it was never gonna happen. The narrative went crazy when the Sign Stealing Scandal* took root. It became clear relatively early on that this was a crazy rogue actor who was not giving Michigan much of any added advantage whatsoever. Still, I became frequently distracted and even found myself arguing with goobers on random internet message boards. Yes, I am 49 years old...

*the fact that it was called Michigan's "sign stealing scandal" is already a self-indictment of said scandal since sign stealing was not only legal but encouraged by the NCAA! But anyway it doesn't matter now, ya goober!

So it was that Michigan was living in Jake Taylor's locker room speech the rest of the season. With their head coach absurdly suspended en route to their biggest road game of the season, the pressure on the players and coaches was not something we can comprehend. They responded with "Bet." Us olds learned some new slang. 

Michigan had a lot of things nobody else had, but above all they had Blake Corum, human cheat code. Time and time again, he had cut the heart out of opponents with devastating daggers at the most impactful of times. In 2021, he scored a late 29 yard TD in Lincoln that he followed up miming corn on the cob. Still gimpy against Ohio State, he busted a 55-yarder that set up Michigan's 3rd TD. In 2022, two long TD runs against Maryland, one of which was on 4th down. 20 yards for a TD against Iowa in the 4th quarter, dusting their all-american linebacker. 2 TDs vs Sparty including a short one in the 4th quarter to slam the door. But in 2023, heroics had thus far not been needed. Now, without their head coach, and against tougher competition, they would be. With MIchigan up only one score well into the 4th quarter at Penn State in a battle of attrition, he delivered el último clavo del ataúd and expertly trolled Manny Diaz in the endzone. And of course, there is the biggest play in Michigan football history, complete with the immediate salute to Zak Zinter.

Damn right this was an emotional time. Tell me you didn't well up at Sherrone Moore's on-field interview in Happy Valley, and I'll question if you have a heart. Tell me you never had the tears flow upon seeing the players' in-the-moment reaction to Zak Zinter's injury, followed immediately by Corum's heroics, and I will call you a liar. After all the ridiculous drama inflicted upon them, these young men took the weight of the world on their shoulders and delivered. Bet, indeed.

But you know we weren't done. There was so much more to come. I watched the Rose Bowl with Mike over skype again. My unbridled roar as Jalen Milroe was taken down (roughly 3am local time) woke up my understanding wife at the other end of the house; she didn't dare come and ask if it was a good shout or a bad one. Of course it was the best one. I found a local German-language broadcast so I could actually watch the final in true HD. The first game I'd been able to see like that in forever. I was alone in my living room. The last significant play of the season occurred when Mikey Sainristil intercepted a purple team on 4th down and took it back 81 yards, nearly to the house. Everyone went crazy. I was no exception, leaping up and uncontrollably whirling my arm around like a 3rd base coach, wild grin plastered across my face. Just like every Michigan fan in the world.

What a ride. What a rush. What an incomparable season. My God did we deserve this. All the hits along the way, all the suffering year after year. The good times always ending in bad times. I can't claim any kind of badge of honor. I haven't been flying across the ocean to attend games, suffering the red-hat commercial breaks, the bad weather, Neil Diamond, the drudgery of it all. The constant complaining, the obnoxious rival fans, the overblown coverage. One of the perks of living abroad is you never have to hear someone bring up something they saw on Sportscenter last night. But even from afar, I can say we've done hard time in the decades leading up to this moment. 

After the confetti settled a little before sunrise here, and I had connected with as many friends as I could, I couldn't help but reflect on my own journey and those that helped make it happen. I dropped everything to make following this sport my life, and that was meant to continue in perpetuity. Other plans came up and changed those plans, but most of the good things that happened to me have their origin with that crazy decision. I've stated that 2023 was to be the last year of college football, and every bit of news since then only makes it feel truer. I'll still follow Michigan. But the shine will be off. I'll step it down a notch now. Life is too complicated to let this be an obsession any longer.

Michigan fans get to relive this season for the rest of our lives. It will always feel like a great dam breaking to wash away all of the frustration. For instance, "trouble with the snap" carries zero significance now, right? Who cares! That poor guy in the yellow hoodie is just ecstatic now. So am I. So are all of us! 

I'll end this Michigan reflection with one last thought about the Blake Corum's checkmate touchdown in the championship game. Check out Harbaugh's reaction to that play. He lets a great exhale out through puffed cheeks and quickly switches to a double-fist-pump. If we permit ourselves to overanalyze a split-second caught on camera, it feels like a quick letting-go of all the pressure and an explosion of pure elation. This is how I'll always remember the season ending. All of the glory and joy for a team that had gone through hell to get there and truly deserved it. Nobody's going to take that away, ever. 

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I had always thought that my unfinished book, notes now gathering dust for 17 years, would be possible to complete in the future. I had such an amazing experience researching it. I could always go back and do it again. Why not hit the road, reconnect with those same fans and see how people have changed? See what they think about the sport today?

After that trip I left the country and have been living the ex-pat life ever since. I can tell you that there is nothing like college football anywhere else in the world. It is perhaps the most American thing there is. I started that trip longing to know my country better. To see what can unite us across differing factions. That there are some deeper truths to our culture that can ultimately bring us together more.

It took me many years to figure out what it all meant. Why the hell I even did it in the first place, which was inherently tied up in why the hell I and so many others care so much about this sport. Why do people spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on custom-detailed RVs? Why do we distract ourselves throughout the week and devote entire Saturdays to it for four straight months? Especially when most seasons end in heartbreak and anguish? 

There are many answers to these questions, but I think a huge part of it comes back to the fact that, for most people, college is the best time of your life. You leave home, find out who you are and who you want to be. You meet friends that are going to be among your closest until the day you die. So on those Saturdays in the fall, we get to feel like we're there again. Sharing a special camaraderie not only with our friends and fellow fans, but with the memories that grew us up. 

The sport has changed dramatically since January. A massive 12-team playoff ruins the intensity of the regular season that made it most special on the field. Massive, incoherent conferences file down what made it most special off the field. The country has changed even more dramatically over the years since I left town. I did see that divides between regions and political views were deeper than I had hoped or imagined in 2007. Just look at us now.

So that's it for me and this avocation. I can't care about my favorite sport like I used to. And my perhaps quixotic ambitions that it was somehow a window into a better way forward for America look laughable now. This is the end of the journey. But I'm grateful to Michigan for giving me the gift of going out on top.

I will forever remember those of you I met along the way. I got the rare chance to "go to college" a second time, and you gave me a whole new round of memories to hold onto. It's meant more to me than you will ever realize.

A Game for the Generations

My dad had been a Chicago Bears Season ticket holder in the 1960s, before moving to the suburbs, having kids, and all of that. 

We watched the Bears together every week, creating a special bond. My other brothers didn’t get the football bug, though one became a star soccer player, my dad’s other favorite sport. So he had everything covered. This weekly routine probably started in earnest when I was 7. Walter Payton was still one of the league’s top stars, and the team was on the cusp of something special. Then things got amazing when I was 10 with the 1985 season. I was led to believe that rooting for a team means they climb the mountain and win it all. That they become the best of all time.

We got season tickets to Northwestern because we could walk to the games. That and they were probably dirt cheap given the level of play back then. Things are a bit hazy now. I only recall a few plays, most of them baffling gaffes. My dad almost couldn’t stand it at times, and his comments on some of those gaffes are what remains most clear to me. I realized that rooting for a team did not mean that they necessarily climb the mountain or even a foothill or two.

My dad was not a Michigan fan. But he loved great football. And he certainly was never in a million years going to root for Ohio State. So when I became a student, he started to lean our way. He was with me in the stands for Biakabutuka 313, the most fun I’ve ever had at Michigan Stadium. By halftime he had figured out The Victors and was chiming in with the whole stadium. He was with me and 15 of my friends for Northwestern 52, Michigan 49, trying to secretly pull for the home team. I say trying because he didn’t need to be demonstrative for me to know what he was thinking. But he didn’t gloat when it ended. He joined us as the oldest man in attendance at a Chicago bar I had “reserved” for the Game of the Century in 2006, when the bar accidentally double-booked their space for my group and an OSU group. 

When I left work to drive around the country going to football games, he was incredibly encouraging, proud even. And when I left home to move to Argentina and then Switzerland, that same support never wavered, even though we didn’t see each other as much. We still talked football as often as we could, and it was usually about Michigan.

On a visit home to Chicago, on New Years Day 2016, we watched Michigan quietly trounce Florida 41-7 together. He took a nap on the couch during halftime that lasted into a healthy chunk of the third quarter. To be fair the game wasn’t exactly a nailbiter.

He passed away suddenly and peacefully 12 days later, at age 91. This set me up for a challenging year. My second child arrived that June, and we had many unexpected life changes coming. But Michigan came through for me. After nine seasons in the wilderness, Harbaugh had restored much of what had been lacking. In a grief-filled, exhausting time, Michigan football had given me something to pull me forward.

Of course the showdown with Ohio State ended horribly. We were to finally reach the summit, such as it was, but a series of gaffes and, let’s say, interesting refereeing led to an unforgettably sad finish. I made my wife let me hold the baby during overtime because I knew it was the one thing in the house I was not allowed to break. This helped me tamp down the rage for the moment, but the disappointment that not all scripts could be flipped lingered for a long time. I was reminded that rooting for a team means a whole lot of suffering. 

My dad studied journalism at Missouri, and whenever there was some national scandal of any kind, he was always quick to look at coverage of the scandal as much as what was happening itself. He would have been apoplectic at the way the Connor Stalions era was covered with its Weapons of Mass Misconstruction. He would have immediately seen through all the hyperventilated nonsense, to the agendas at play, to the cowardice of Petitti. 

But more than that, he would have loved this team. He would have loved their lack of penalties. The way they played as a unit. Their bruising lines. He would have seen the brilliance of Blake Corum, how the kid has the killer instinct to destroy the opposition with the game on the line time and time again. He would have admired the hell out of Sherrone Moore and how he stepped up to lead when Harbaugh was forced out of action. How they have delivered on every single promise so far. How they didn’t let the bastards get them down. He would have tried to say “Bet” the right way. The team wouldn’t have taken the place of the ’85 Bears in his heart, but his admiration would have been massive.

2023 was not an easy year. I won’t get into the details here, but the trials have been many, varied, and steep. We got through them all as a family. And much like in 2016, Michigan has provided a boost week in and week out. My son is now 7. He was distraught after the loss to TCU, but it’s only a vague memory for him at this point. He has watched the first halves of the early games live with me (noon = 6pm here) for the first time this season. The first thing he wants to do every Sunday morning is ask if Michigan won. And then watch the highlights as many times as we will let him. The words “Blake” and “JJ” hold joyful purpose in his life. 

Now that I'm the dad, sharing the passion with my son, I hope for his sake as much as mine that Michigan wins tonight. I'm clearly setting the wrong expectations; he will think rooting for a team means they become champions. But it's better to see the mountaintop whenever you can than to wait for decades. 

What I'm saying is that the players on this team have made me prouder than any Michigan team in history. Given how obsessed I have been for these 30 years, that's saying a lot. I just hope my son can appreciate it like his grandpa would have.

Let's Go Blue one last time!

The Last Battle

It just means more

I was sitting in Lloyd Carr’s office in August of 2008. He was officially a few weeks away from retirement. I was a few weeks away from the end of my mid-life crisis. That had come early for me, at 32 years of age. I quit my perfectly good job to drive 23,000 miles across 43 states, attend 17 college football games, and interview roughly 1,000 fans and a handful of coaches.

When I began by explaining what I was up to, he said “Wow, this sport really means a lot do you to you, doesn’t it?” I was taken aback by his obvious observation, and that I hadn’t realized quite how much I cared about it until he framed it for me. If I had ever gotten my book finished, it would have centered on the big question behind this. Why do we care so much about college football?

There are many reasons, but I would posit that the simplest of them is that it’s the sport that has consistently delivered the most drama every single week. I don’t have to explain this to anyone who follows the game beyond just their team. And if someone’s a die-hard of any team, part of college football has always been keeping an eye on everyone else.

Nearly every one of those 1,000 fans I spoke to talked about how much this sport matters to them. How it’s different than anything else. How they love it because it is so many things that the NFL is not. The original premise of that journey was about the inherent tension between tradition and progress. Back then there was debate if the BCS should be changed to have a playoff. Coach Carr even said he felt it had to happen. Relating to the playoff debate, a Wisconsin fan named Ken Simmons told me, “Look at why the passion for college football is so great. You don’t want to change a whole lot. You don’t want to harm that passion. I think that’s why they’re moving as slowly as they are.”

 

Play Them Off

We’ll see more change in the leap to 2024 than the sport has ever seen before. And it’s happening very quickly. Conference realignment previously thought to be crazy will take hold, with nearly all surviving conferences going national. The NIL era is approaching its initial level of stasis as people figure things out. Already this year, they are shortening the games to protect time for commercials (not to protect the players).

Yet the most important change has simply been accepted with a general shrug. The system is moving to a 12-team playoff, which will do more to upend what makes college football special than anything else.

We needed a playoff because we invented a BCS. Before the BCS it was frustrating, but ultimately OK that teams occasionally had to share national championships. We called them “mythical” for a reason. The BCS was meant to solve all of that. Get the top two teams together and it’s solved. Except there were various years when either the wrong teams were chosen, or a worthy third team got left out of having their chance. Moving to a four-team playoff from that point had to happen. Coach Carr and Ken Simmons, traditionalists though they were, both said so.

Why do we need to go to a 12 team playoff? Aside from the 2014 season, when Baylor and TCU had an obliquely plausible argument, there has been no deserving team left out of the playoff. So there is no problem to solve. Like nearly every change happening today, it’s driven by TV money. It is impossible for a 12-team playoff to pick a more worthy champion than the system today provides. This has been proven.

Many fans are excited because they know they’re going to get some great games. I can’t blame them. We haven’t had many great games recently. Look at the entire list of AP Top 25 non-conference matchups for this year:

o   Ole Miss (22) vs Tulane (24) Sept 4

o   LSU (5) vs FSU (8) Sept 4

o   Alabama (4) vs Texas (11) Sept 10

o   OSU (3) vs Notre Dame (13) Sept 24

o   USC (6) vs Notre Dame (13) Oct 14

Gah!

My team’s 2^nd best home game this season is against Purdue. The 3^rd best is against Rutgers. It gets worse from there… Gah-gah!

 

Nobody seems to recognize what we’re giving up. In college football death is on the line every single week. Think about Ohio State’s loss to Purdue in 2019. That one where they couldn’t tackle Rondale Moore? It kept them out of the playoff even though they won every other game. Remember the Kick Six? Remember when JT was short*? Remember when Stanford lost to Oregon by 2 in 2015? Or when Iowa lost the Big Ten Title game to Michigan State? When Clemson lost last year to the Gamecocks by one point? All of those results had seismic ramifications. With a 12-team playoff, they no longer matter at all.

*my opinion which is worth very little.

 

We got a taste of this last year when Ohio State suffered one of the worst defeats imaginable in The Game* yet nearly won the National Championship anyway? Everyone agrees that would have been weird to say the least. This is no big deal in any of the big four American professional sports. They’ve all shifted to a system whereby the regular season is a mere prelude to what really matters.

*my opinion which also matters not.

 

One of the last non-goofy posts on this blog is when I urged all fans to protect the sanctity of The Game when Dave Brandon seemingly wanted to move it to October. I titled that post FREEDOM IS SLAVERY for cryin’ out loud. Now? Who cares? Kick Six? Nice play, see you in the semis. Lose The Game? Doesn’t matter, we have bonus lives. There is no more living and dying with each play, at least not until we get to… what is it? December? January?

In that meeting with Coach Carr, it was 20 months after The Game of the Century in Columbus. You could tell that the loss was still stinging him. And it stung me. For many years. Still kinda stings. Always gonna sting. Next year? Just another game. On to the next one. See you in the semis…

 

It’s All Over Now Baby Blue

So we come to the 2023 season. It’s the last season of College Football. I’m not alone in this opinion. Every week I have lived and died with my team since I first entered the stadium as a freshman in 1993. And every week someone I met on the road 16 years ago is rejoicing or crying in their beer. But next year the joy will be restrained. The tears will not flow. Because the games don’t matter.

Michigan is poised for an incredible year. All the stars seem to be aligning. If this is the last year of College Football, as a fan I’m hoping I get to have an amazing ride into the sunset. They are an adorable team, top to bottom, and they’ll matter for me as long as I live, regardless of the result.

Will I still watch in 2024? Of course. Maybe on DVR to avoid the commercials. But will I invest my hopes, dreams, fears, and angst? Will I still care? That will inherently have to wait until the postseason. And if my team is 13^th, well, I don’t know if I’ll bother tuning in for the top 12. Because officially, none of the rest of this matters.

The powers that be don’t care about me or people like me. They want to increase the reach and get more eyeballs on screens for the big matchups. It's the incremental eyeballs that drive the incremental revenue. The cost of those choices is grave damage to what made this sport special.

That crazy trip I took was a huge success for me. I made new friends. It led to me meeting my wife, and one of my best friends meeting her husband. Now our kids play together in the rare moments we can meet up on vacation. I got to meet famous writers, ADs, Roy Kramer (who used his phone to show me the score of the Michigan game – early technology adopter, that Roy), and many of you wonderful people. Damn right this really means a lot to me.

So let’s enjoy this last ride before the shine is gone for good.

Photo from 2008. Geez! I've aged a lot more than Lloyd in the interim.

Go Blue!

Road Games College Pick 'Em (aka Big Ten Den)

We're just a few weeks away from kickoff, and that means a reprise of the annual tradition of Pick 'Em. Pick the winning teams across 20 games or so each week and garner glory and admiration.

How to play? Simple!

1. Go here. Sign up.

2. Click the "Join a Group" button

3. Enter:
Group ID#: 1441
Password: goblue

4. Liberally talk trash on the message board.

5. Pick your winners each week, ranking by confidence. 1=least confident, N=most confident. Straight up, no spreads.

6. Celebrate when you win it all. Like these folks:

Several New Posts up at the Sports Trough

Hey Gang,

I've been getting back on the horse lately. Just not on this site, Join me at the all-new Sports Trough, covering a lot more than college football, though I rarely participate in coverage of other sports, the guys do a great job on NFL, baseball, and whatever else is in the news.

My stuff this week:
Why Texas A&M's SECession is your fault
Week #2 Predictions with Michael
Why you should root for Michigan tomorrow and GO BLUE

And finally, they dragged me into some NFL stuff and made me join their Eliminator Pool. But I took advantage of the assignment to poke some fun at them.

Speaking of eliminations, I still find this goofy show hysterical. Posted because it's Friday night and there's only one game on...

Week #1 College Picks

Over at the Sports Trough, Mike and I go through our picks for week #1 of the college football season. Check it out!

Road Games College Pick 'Em (The Big Ten Den)

We're just a few weeks away from kickoff, and that means a reprise of the annual tradition of Pick 'Em. Pick the winning teams across 20 games or so each week and garner glory and admiration.

How to play? Simple!

1. Go here. Sign up.

2. Click the "Join a Group" button

3. Enter:
Group ID#: 4318
Password: goblue

4. Liberally talk trash on the message board.

5. Pick your winners each week, ranking by confidence. 1=least confident, N=most confident. Straight up, no spreads.

6. Celebrate when you win it all. Like these folks:

Dissent on a Descent

AKA: A Tale of Two Disasters.

New column about Argentine soccer posted at the Sports Trough. Included in the post, for your viewing pleasure, the most complete fan meltdown of all time. Enjoy!

Death Is On the Line

NOTE: This column is double-posted over at a brand new website for which I am a contributor, The Sports Trough. So check out all the new stuff there!

Imagine if you will, that during the New York Knicks’ various failures over the last decade there was something far more important at stake. Or that the Chicago Cubs were on the verge of significant consequences for their futility beyond continued razzing from White Sox fans. What if the Knicks were relegated to the NBDL, and the Cubs to AAA ball? Can you imagine the Nashville Sounds playing a summer classic at Wrigley? How would the fans react? Would they violently revolt, or just leave the team completely? What about all the lost TV revenue? These are just a few of the concerns at stake this Sunday in Buenos Aires.

In Argentine soccer, two teams rise above all others in terms of popularity. The owners of the “Superclasico” and one of the most renowned rivalries in all of sport: River Plate and Boca Juniors. In recent polls, roughly 80% of all Argentines root for one of these two teams over all others. They have the most money, and some would argue the richest history. But all that people know about soccer in Argentina may change in just a few days. Over the last three years, both teams have been in a steady decline, clinging to veterans who were either over the hill or lacking the desire to fight for victories. And that freefall has put River in a suddenly extremely precarious position.

There are five levels of soccer leagues in the country, and the bottom two teams from each division are relegated down a notch at the end of every season, with the top two teams sent up. The next two lowest performers get a chance to fight to stay with the big boys. There are only three teams that have never been sent down to the B league: Boca, River, and Independiente. River, for the first time in their history, is now fighting for their lives. Their fans refer to themselves as “The Millionaires,” but the equal parts shock, shame, and disgust they are enduring is unheard of in the 110 year history of the club, and they are feeling nothing like a million bucks.

After several seasons of struggles, River cleaned house, fired their third head coach in a year, and started the season with a lot of hope. After seven games, they were just a few points out of first place. But as quickly as the hope arrived, they began to lose. Seemingly every week. In the last week, they had to win or tie to avoid the “promotion” (games against a B team, the winner of which ends up in the top league). They gave up a goal in the last few minutes to lose 2-1, and the players left the field under a hail of bottles, garbage, and anything else their fans could grab. Instead of Millionaires, they performed more like the derisive nickname their rivals apply to them: the Chickens.

The Promotion works thusly: The fourth worst team from the top division plays the fourth best team from the B division twice. Once on each team’s home turf. After both games, they take the sum of the goals. In the case of a tie, the team from the top division wins.

Wednesday night, some 400 miles from home, River took the field against Belgrano de Cordoba, and laid an egg. The Cordobeses were clearly more prepared for the game, and, with their home crowd going bonkers, blasted in a penalty kick after a clear handball in the penalty box 25 minutes into the game. From that point on, as they have all season when under a bit of pressure, River collapsed. Despite a steady string of free kicks and corners, they got few quality chances and played sloppy the rest of the first half. Eight minutes into the second, Belgrano notched a superb goal by César Pereya. And at that moment, 40% of Argentina was shitting their pants or smashing their television or both.

But what happened next was even more surprising. Suddenly there were fans on the field, not streaking or trying to steal the ball, but attacking the River players. At first it seemed these were fans of Belgrano, trying to celebrate, as they wore no gear marking their allegiance. Instead, these were River fans so enraged by what they were seeing that they tore through the fence separating them from the field. “Find your balls!” yelled one fan as he gave a two-handed shove to a midfielder. After a 20 minute delay and the crowd threatened firehoses, play resumed. Needless to say, this did not help River find balls of any kind, and they returned to the capital under heavy guard with a deficit of two goals.So this Sunday, at 3pm, they will take the field in the largest stadium in the country, but they don’t even know whether their fans will be rooting for them. In fact, with good reason, it is more likely the players will fear for their lives. The murder of soccer players who err is not unheard of in Latin America, and when you consider the sheer quantity of enraged Millionaires/Chickens, if I were a player, I would be worried about any public appearance.

There are other factors worth mentioning. There is a tremendous amount of money at stake. For the television alone, River will make 10 times less money in the B division. Not to mention the fact that nobody will be buying jerseys, hats, or probably even tickets. Some teams go to the B and never come back. River has enough funding that this is unlikely, but even playing in the Promotion was unheard of before this week.

Rival factions are conflicted. The sheer pleasure they have taken over these last two weeks in relentlessly making fun of the River fans has possibly been enough. And many don’t wish to see River leave the top league. Boca, for one, stands to lose money, and to a certain degree all teams do. Think what would happen if the Cubs never played any major competition. That’s a huge fan base that no longer buys visitors’ tickets.

For all the Machiavellian thinking we hear about how the NBA is fixed or that the MLB doesn’t care about their small-market teams, you wouldn’t believe some of the accusations levied at the AFA before the first Promotion game even took place. Everyone is assuming that somehow the league will ensure that River wins the last game by at least two goals. That the refs will be bought off, that fans will storm the field to disrupt the game in a way that affects the scoreboard, that God will come down and declare River the overall winner. Belgrano is likely going to have to play out of their minds just to lose by only one.

I arrived in Argentina with the chance to pick any team from the 20 in the top division. That’s a rare opportunity in life, and after great research and contemplation, I settled on Independiente. River is not our top Rival, but definitely our second. Think Notre Dame/Michigan. And they always beat us. I am not conflicted. I have every desire to see Belgrano win 3-0. My wife (also, not coincidentally an Independiente fan), is of the same mind. And there are so many reasons for this. Perhaps this is comparable Alabama fans rooting for Auburn in their bowl game – something I just can’t fathom. I want River, and all their Chicken followers to suffer. After this, I want to see them go to the C, then the D (note: this will not happen ever, but a guy can dream).

Watching this River team play, they collapse once things go badly. Like Stan Van Gundy said about the Atlanta Hawks, they’re “frontrunners.” Only in this case, they are rarely in front. Now they have to come back home, play in front of 58,000 fans, most of whom want them dead, and find a way to win by two goals. That’s going to be some pregame locker room.

Death is on the line Sunday. Surely at risk is the legacy of one of the world’s most famous futbol clubs. Hopefully nothing more grave. I’m sure the government will try to put 58,000 cops on the field, just in case. If it weren’t a Sunday, it would be the ideal day to rob a bank. I can say this. I’m keeping the hell away from that stadium, and will be eagerly watching the drama unfold on TV, rooting for ruin and heartbreak. It’s a rare opportunity to see a nationwide car wreck live. With slow-motion replays. Today, I’m a Cordobés, too.

A Proposal to Solve the Student-Athlete Problem

This is a particularly long posting. If you don't want to read all the background, just page down to "A fair solution."

A couple years ago, I started reading Rick Telander's 1990 book, The Hundred Yard Lie. I was just beginning with the writing of my (still in progress) book and was looking for inspiration. I had always admired Telander's writing, and figured this would provide an interesting angle on the game. I was right, but also very wrong. This was Telander's "goodnight and good luck" to a sport he had enjoyed his entire life, first as a player and then in his career as a journalist. After this book, he vowed to cover college football no longer. He had seen too much hypocrisy, corruption, and fraud to continue pretending it was all OK. It is one of the most depressing books I have read, and in the end I couldn't encourage myself to finish it. Why would I want to be reminded all the reasons why my favorite sport is inherently wrong in very big ways in addition to its various small problems (BCS, coaches voting, inane overtime format)?

But it's important to understand that the ever-present elephant in the room has been there for decades. Telander's book is 20 years old and none of his complaints has been addressed. None of his suggestions has been taken. He reached his breaking point a long time ago and probably made the right decision to move on. But where does that leave the rest of us?

The Cam Newton saga has unfolded just like most people expected it would. We know that (A) there was some pretty shady stuff going on but (B) it's not surprising that shady stuff goes on because (C) a player like Newton stands to bring a lot more to the university than it does to him yet (D) it would be a shame if Newton himself did something wrong. The NCAA's lack of direct evidence got the 2010 season off the hook. As fans we get the celebration of a deservedly landslide Heisman winner loaded with caveats.

Image courtesy of EDSBS and LSU Freek

Yes, college football's biggest problem isn't going away anytime soon. There are too many people with too much money at stake. Enforcement will never be able to catch up with everything that goes on, and is not much of a deterrent for those breaking the rules. USC is currently slammed with penalties, but what did Reggie Bush himself have to pay? He gave up an important trophy, but little else. Nefarious people with open palms will always lurk around impressionable youth that can help them prosper. At this point, most believe that too much money is being made for none of it to go back to the players actually generating the cash.

But it's not so simple

Much like the annual Playoffs versus BCS debate, an issue that seems relatively simple is far more complex than it appears. If you asked the majority of fans, they would say "pay the players." But let's first get a few things straight.

Thing 1: The players are already paid. Football scholarships include tuition, room and board, tutoring, and often times compensation for books or a small bit of spending money. Across the entire NCAA, there are over $1 billion in scholarship per year across over 126,000 athletes. Some say that this shouldn't count. That they can't take a typical class load because their priority is football. Obviously, playing big-time football is perhaps the most arduous of extracurricular activities. But let's see just what that scholarship is worth. At my alma mater, Michigan, a year's worth of tuition, room and board, and fees are worth over $49,000 per year for an out of state student, not counting summer semesters. A large number of football players would never have the chance to go to college without the sport. Juggling the demands of team and classes is a tremendous challenge. But many are able to handle it across all levels of collegiate athletics. If they choose not to take advantage of the opportunity they've earned for themselves, that is their fault. The same goes for the student body at large. Plenty of students drop out all the time. Few of them can blame anyone but themselves.

Thing 2: College football and basketball earn money to support the other non-revenue sports. That's a worthwhile and important thing. College swim teams cost every one of their universities money. There's another debate to be had here, but when thinking about these budgets, we must take into account that the other sports are drinking from the football team's hose.

Thing 3: In the FBS side alone, there are 120 teams with 85 scholarship players a piece, plus walk-ons. Can we really say that all the players are contributing equally? That is to say, does Auburn backup punter Steven Clark fill the SEC's coffers to the same degree that Newton does? Of course not. In fact, it is the players like Newton who bring in so much money to the university that help pay for Clark's scholarship in the first place. In this regard, he is no different than whoever swims butterfly on the Tigers' medley relay.

It's a big pie and it's made of trillion dollar bills

Make no mistake. We are talking about a hell of a lot of money. In 2009, Ohio State spent $32.3 million on their football program. They brought in over $65 million, hence the aforementioned Thing 2 above is no minor detail. Despite what you may think about his personal character, Terrelle Pryor has a lot to do with all of those dollars.
Where does the money come from? Primarily four places: ticket sales, merchandising, alumni/booster donations, and TV. The more successful a team or conference is, the more they will have of all of these things. But let's try to bring this back in terms of how the players affect this.

Ticket Sales: The top programs are sold out every year no matter what happens. If they start losing all their games, they will see an impact on attendance, but the failure has to go on for a long time. In an under-construction stadium, coming off a 3-9 season with little reason for hope, Michigan still sold out every game in 2009. Fielding Yost has more to do with Michigan's success in selling tickets than does Denard Robinson. A middle-ground program such as Georgia Tech is going to experience more fluctuation. The Yellow Jackets saw their numbers rise by over 4,000 spectators per game between 2008 and 2009, a season that ended with them in the Orange Bowl. The players and coaching staff earned that extra attendance and deserve the credit. Still, all that winning resulted in less than a 10% increase in tickets sold.

Winning games helps earn a bit more more gate revenue, but do we really want to start paying players based on how many games their team wins? I don't think this is what most "pay the players" advocates have in mind. Correct me if I'm mistaken.

Merchandising and Donations: I would argue that these work much the same as ticket sales. People buy Alabama t-shirts because they love the program. Sometimes they pick a certain number on their jersey to represent the star quarterback, but they also know that it's only his number for four years. There is never a name on the back of the jersey. Tons of Michigan fans wear #1. Does that represent Anthony Carter or Braylon Edwards? Or for nobody since the number's not assigned right now? Wins and losses are going to impact fan support more than anything else.

Television: The TV money being given to the conferences these days is astounding. Street & Smith's estimates that the Big Ten Network could bring $2.8 Billion to the conference over the life of the deal. The SEC's 15 year deals with the ESPN and the CBS are worth over $3 Billion combined. This is an awful lot of cash. It greatly helps with Thing 2 above, but it also pays Nick Saban's salary. Its importance as a revenue factor will only continue to increase. ESPN just announced that 2010 was their most-watched season since 1994. (HT: Doc Sat) Think these contracts are going to get smaller in future seasons?

A fair solution

So can we all agree this is a complex problem? Someone with more time and data on their hands could calculate exactly how much money Cam Newton's efforts have earned for Auburn University and the SEC. Needless to say, we're talking about a hell of a lot more than a year's tuition. Someone of Newton's caliber is almost always going to end up in the NFL and make millions. One could argue that he is getting a free audition loaded with highlight reel successes. It's clear that the most successful college players generally profit in the end. But there will always be the Tommie Fraziers who never earn NFL riches. And furthermore, is "future potential" fair compensation? Remember that we're talking about numbers in the billions of dollars just for the TV contracts.There is a solution that makes sense. It may not be perfect, but it is just. Paying players across the board is not really the issue here. All are already paid, and they do not contribute to the money pile equally. The area where star players have the greatest immediate impact is in TV viewership. TV viewership is the reason that the SEC and the Big Ten and even the Mountain West are bringing in millions of dollars via those contracts. Millions of people tune in to see Cam Newton, Denard Robinson, and Patrick Peterson. The networks use these names to promote their broadcasts which in turn drives viewership which in turn brings revenue from advertisers.

My proposal, The Marketing Trust, is simple: pay the players based on how they are used in marketing these games. Yes, it's two steps removed from the actual revenue stream, but it will work. If ABC wants to put Terrelle Pryor in a commercial to advertise The Game, they should have to pay him. Pay would be based on how the player's image is used. Mention their name, that's $1,000 every time the ad runs. Use a still photo, $2,000. Show one of their highlights, $3,000. Details would have to be worked out regarding whether an athlete is actually "in" the ad. What should be done regarding offensive linemen blocking for LaMichael James in a highlight clip? They get paid less, but they still get paid. A DB being burned by Justin Blackmon? He gets paid, too. Even Hollywood pays the extras a little. Whether I have nailed down the right figures is unimportant. The players driving ad revenue deserve a percentage of these colossal TV contracts, and this would make provide value on what is deserved.

But the athletes would not be paid directly. For each player, a trust would be created that could invest the money accumulated. The account would be turned over to the athlete upon graduation or two years after their eligibility ends, whichever comes first. Those playing after completing their undergraduate degrees would have to wait for eligibility to end. They would therefore remain amateurs for the time being. Any unscrupulous income or other rules violation would void their earned money and send it back to general scholarship funds.

This would remain a closed system, administered by the NCAA and the conferences. Once the appropriate dollar figures are assigned, the process would be as simple as tagging a Facebook photo. There would be no special negotiations for the biggest stars, and no outside forces could affect payments. Players appearing in ads get money sent to their trust. Official, on-air copy read by announcers qualifies as well.

What if the networks were to avoid using athletes in their ads? Don't hold your breath. As attractive as a pair of Georgia and Florida helmets crashing together in a fiery explosion may be, ESPN is going to want to lure viewers in with a bit more. The networks have been promoting these games with the faces and actions of student athletes for decades and that's not going to change any time soon.

Would the networks actually want to go for this program? If they end up paying the same amount to the conferences they already are, they would have no problem. Would the conferences want to go for this program? Not if it costs them a lot of money. So both sides would need to meet somewhere in the middle and divide the expense equally. It may seem like a significant amount of money, but for them it's going to be a drop in the bucket, and both sides get a major publicity win. Instituting this program will only increase viewership from NFL fans who may have trouble with the integrity of the sport.

My only reservation with this approach is that it gives further competitive advantage in recruiting for name programs. Would an athlete ever choose Purdue over Ohio State given the fact that they are much less likely to be heavily marketed? Still, we are tying things back to the ones who are earning the revenue. Cam Newton could have ended up staying at Florida or gone to another of the highest profile programs. In the end, there's no way he could have been a bigger marketing tool than he was at Auburn. With nearly all BCS conference games appearing on TV somewhere these days, the chance to start playing right away at a less renowned program can even things out.

I have long been in the camp of saying that the scholarship, room and board, and BMOC status should be enough. Reading Telander's book convinced me that we have a problem, and I did my best to ignore it as long as I could. I'm not saying that this would totally eliminate bad people doing bad things with bad money. But it would certainly help fight temptation, especially for the players with the highest promise. More importantly, it's the right thing to do for those who are risking their health for our enjoyment.

Devotion and Doubt

I found myself rooting for Alabama over Auburn this past weekend. But I wasn't sure why. Maybe it's because I was still hoping that Boise State would get a shot at the title, and I figured that was the easiest way they could get there. Or because in Pick 'Em I needed a big upset to have to chance to come back in the standings. Or because when I hear that "S-E-C! S-E-C!" nonsense I feel like a cat being petted in the wrong direction - uncomfortably testy. Auburn was one of the last stops on my road trip, and despite my exhaustion it was probably the best Thanksgiving Friday of my life. The fans were as generous with me as anyone, and a jovial day ended with a hearty celebration at Toomer's Corner. My heart should probably always be with Auburn in the Iron Bowl, but I needed my brain to give it the reminder.

I moved to Argentina two and a half years ago, and have felt more distant from college football each season. Not that I haven't been paying attention, but it's just not the same when you can't take in the whole Saturday. Reading box-scores as they come in just isn't the same. I can curse the fact that internet here is too slow to stream all I want, but it doesn't change the situation. The last two weeks, I took an extended break to celebrate Thanksgiving with the family and got to behave like a real fan again. Oh how I have missed taking in the full slate of games every week. That said, it did not go very well for me and my team.

I've been on the side of giving Rich Rodriguez another year, but it was based on limited information. I haven't been able to actually watch many of the games over the past three seasons. I've had to go on box scores, bloggers' analyses, and angry or relief-filled e-mails from friends. In statistics, we'd say that a model built on limited data like this has a lot of error. Over the past two weeks I gathered more info. I watched not just Michigan's games against Wisconsin and Ohio State, but various other teams playing various other games. During the Ohio State/Iowa game last week, it struck me how they limit their mistakes to the bare minimum. They are not a superb team, especially on offense. But it's not like they're a good enough team to truly dominate. Except for those occasions when Pryor goofs, the team never shoots themselves in the foot.

It strikes me that as Michigan fans, we must watch between our fingers, waiting for the next big mistake. On Saturday, otherwise reliable receivers dropped easy and hard passes all day. It was sunny and dry. There was no reason for these gaffes. The best offensive play of the afternoon, the one Michigan's run all season where Denard Robinson jab-steps and then throws deep over the middle was negated because of the stupidest of penalties. The defense started out playing strong, but eventually the mistakes arrived via missed tackles or by players being out of position.

It is clear that Rodriguez is a talented coach when it comes to schemes and running an aggressive offense. Whatever he has done to coach Denard in the offseason and during this year has worked tremendously well. Last year Denard wasn't remotely a quarterback. This year he broke records. And I'm willing to forgive his proclivity to turn the ball over as that's what first-year starters often do. But the team is clearly not prepared to play. At the end of the year, the kinks should already be worked out and the blooper-reel stuff eliminated. What we saw the last two weeks simply cannot happen. Maybe they had a bad couple of weeks, or perhaps the team is tired. I'm still working with limited data here, though the more I gain, the bleaker the picture becomes.

If Michigan can indeed snag Jim Harbaugh now, it's clearly the choice with a higher probability of long-term success. Rodriguez was not dealt the best hand when he arrived at Michigan. The talent wasn't there, and many people were working against him, hard. From the old-schoolers in the athletic department who wanted Les Miles, to the Detroit Free Press' hatchet men, to the litigious WVU Athletic Department, he had a lot of unfair stuff to deal with. I am sure the team will improve next year if he stays. There are few seniors, and the offensive recruits coming in seem to have a lot of potential. And it would be impossible for the defense to be any worse, even if Greg Robinson is miraculously spared the axe. Maybe the continuation of this nadir is not all Rodriguez's fault, but that doesn't really matter anymore. It's like one of those sad country songs where the singer burdens himself with blame, but gives a fair share to the fates. Either way, the dude's just going to be miserable for a while, and there's not much he can do to lift his spirits.

I am now very concerned about the ceiling of the team with Rodriguez. If they can't catch a pass in the most important game of the year, and can't stop getting dumb penalties, and can't be in position, will they ever be an elite team? Because that's the real reason Ohio State has now won seven times in a row. They get the most out of the players they have. This year, I'd say we got the most out of just a handful: Denard and one or two offensive lineman. That, more than anything makes me think it's time to cut bait. It's pretty clear that Jim Harbaugh gets the most out of his talent.

Again, I'm out of the loop. I can't even decide which teams to root for anymore. Not seeing games hurts all of it. I guess I still need to hear what people like Brian and Dave have to say. They've been preaching patience all year. But after they saw what we all saw these last two weeks, I can't imagine they have a lot left. Suddenly, a bowl game is small consolation.

At the very least I am thankful to have endured those games and seen so many others. Reading about how Boise State saved their season with a last second bomb only to blow it on two botched chipshots pales in comparison to taking it in live. At the very least I have come to a conclusion about something. Next year, I'm finding a way to spend my Saturdays with football, even if I have to move. Either that or I'll have to buy a guitar and pick up a drawl so I can lament my various losses in song.

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY

A couple years back, I did a crazy thing. I quit a perfectly good job and drove my ass around the whole country going to football games. This didn’t happen on a whim. It was an irrepressible urge. I wanted to see the whole country, and there was no better way to do it than via college football. But I needed to meet the fans from around the nation. The idea had lodged itself in various states of my consciousness for six years before finally compelling me to action.

I intended the adventure to be focused on the tradition inherent to college football. I wanted to know why it was so much more important to us than for fans of other sports. But after just a few games, I realized that tradition wasn’t as coveted as I thought it was. It got a whole lot of lip service, but fans had short memories, and their worldview was often not aligned with their stated respect for tradition. This surprised and disappointed me. I learned that for most fans, the desire to fully embrace tradition will always be overwhelmed by devotion to the program. This is true even if it requires self-delusion. We have always been at war with Eastasia.

So it was that one of the overarching themes of my trip became the inherent battle between tradition and progress. They are diametrically opposed, especially as it relates to this wonderful sport. The battle kept surfacing, whether it was Bowls versus Playoffs, SEC fans rooting for their bitterest rivals in bowl games, or students tacking a “Go Blue!” onto the end of “The Victors.” (This still feels appallingly wrong to me.) Even my choice to save time by speeding along Interstate 40 instead of leisurely getting my kicks on Route 66 showed that progress often has its place.

But my goodness, there are limits. If the reports are true, it is 80% certain that Michigan and Ohio State will be placed in separate divisions, and probably play in the middle of the season. Doc Saturday has clearly outlined all the reasons this is stupid, so I won’t even get into the rationale. Stupid is the word. Stupid beats out ill-conceived, reckless, or any other depressing word you want to apply. This is a stupid, stupid idea.

These men agree. With each other.

So what’s the big deal? Plenty of important people do stupid things all the time. As I said, tradition in college football is sadly overrated and becoming more so every year. And as much as many fans may dislike this erosion, they accept it because it’s still the best game in the world. But there are bridges too far. If the bloggers are any indication of where fans stand, the followers of Michigan and Ohio State are presenting a united front. For the core fans, there’s no question this stupid decision will sour them. For the casual ones (read: incremental dollars), the only benefit is that rare and surely elusive rematch, a meager benefit that will be more than balanced out by The Game no longer being The Game.

There’s something really big at stake here. The decision has not yet been made official. Every other change we’ve seen, at least you could argue both sides for fans and players alike. The fans have spoken clearly this time. Not all change is good, especially when it’s stupid. But will anybody care what we have to say? Will anyone actually listen? Are they not only poised to make a stupid decision, but ignore those who have tried desperately to set them straight? The Big Ten fashions itself to be the conference of stalwart tradition, keeping the Rose Bowl stashed away in its favorite jewelry box, not to be shared. Yet, what greater tradition is there than The Game? If the fans will not be listened to now, they will never be listened to about anything. This is the most extreme case we will ever see. This is a litmus test for the sport. Does tradition matter in the slightest? If Delaney moves The Game, then it is dead, and we might as well start having fanstasy drafts and Budweiser hot seats and “He Hate Me” on the backs of uniforms.

Seriously, this is the guy in charge. OK, well maybe he just looks like him.

What I finally discovered was that my big road trip was not about blind devotion to all things sacred. It was about what makes us fans in the first place. That’s a much longer conversation (you can read the book if I ever finish it). The gist of it is that we get to go back to college a few Saturdays a year. And we like going back to college because it was one of the greatest times in our lives. We adore The Game, even when it treats us badly, because it has given us the highest of highs and the lowest of lows but rarely anything in between. It is supreme, thrilling victory, or utter devastation. Every year. This result simply cannot happen in October.

Regarding the importance of tradition, I eventually found acceptance and embraced the difference between me and (some of) you. And, much later, Lloyd Carr even convinced me that we should have a playoff. Perhaps I’m not such a nostalgic codger after all. I’ve come around a bit. Really, I have. Go ahead, kids. Play in my yard. Just try not to burn down my fucking garage while you’re at it.

Other voices from the choir:
Brian talks sense
Ramzy correctly puts things in perspective
M-Zone comes out of retirement!
Add your name to the Facebook page here. It's (quite literally) the least you can do.

UPDATE: Some useful e-mail addresses here. Send a courteous note or sit on your hands. Don't mail theses people a dickish rant just 'cause I deployed the f-word (HT: M-zone):
Dave Brandon (U-M AD): DABran@umich.edu
Gene Smith (OSU AD): Smith.5407@osu.edu
Mary Sue Coleman (U-M President): PresOff@umich.edu
Gordon Gee (OSU President): Gordon.Gee@osu.edu
Jim Delany (Big 10 Commissioner): JDelany@bigten.org

Road Games College Pick 'Em (aka The Big Ten Den)

We're just a month away from kickoff, and that means a reprise of the annual tradition of Pick 'Em. Pick the winning teams across 20 games or so each week and garner glory and admiration.

How to play? Simple!

1) Go here. Sign up.

2) Click the "Join Group" button

3) Enter:
Group ID#: 1837
Password: goblue

4) Talk some trash on the message board

5) Once the games begin, please at least try to beat the dude who lives in Argentina (me)

...any questions, drop me a line.