Shelter from the Storm

Team X ___, Michigan less

	Bob Dylan - Shelter from the Storm
	Found at skreemr.com

So.

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm supposed to say more? I figured just listening to Bob Dylan would've been enough. What would like me to say? The offense is young, and will be good. The defense is terrible, just as it was last year, and honestly, nothing has been shown from anything or anybody to suggest that anything will be different moving forward. For the third straight year, Ohio State will lay an aborted Michigan season to rest. All the crybaby Ohio State fans bawling and moaning about Tressel and his conservative approach to football: shut the fuck up. I hope one day you're in our shoes, where the Michigan/Ohio State game doesn't bring anticipation and excitement, but the sweet release of the end of the season so you don't have to dedicate your Saturdays to watching your team harm you in ways that seem almost deliberate. Boo hoo, Tressel played it close to the vest and got us another Big Ten championship and we're going to the Rose Bowl, waaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh. Sit on it and rotate.

Okay, here's some new material: Jay Hopson and Tony Gibson should not be back next year. One of these is a no brainer. Hopson is not an RR guy, and the two players he's responsible for - Mouton and Ezeh - have been terrible all year. They were bad last year too, but showed marginal improvement at the end, giving us reason to be hopeful for 2009. Didn't happen. They've been consistently bad almost every week with no sign of getting any better. Whether that means Hopson's style of teaching just doesn't fit in Robinson's scheme or if Hopson is just out of his element coaching linebackers is irrelevant. He has to go.

Gibson, on the other hand...we're going to see what our head coach is made of. Gibson is Rodriguez's boy, on the level of Debord and Carr. This was supposed to be one of the positives about Rodriguez, that he was so obsessed with winning he put personal allegiances aside and put the best man for the job in charge. Well, and West Virginia fans (the sane ones) warned us about this, Tony Gibson ain't the guy. Unlike Hopson, Gibson is one of our better recruiters, so if you want to shift him to recruiting coordinator, fine, but he cannot return as DB coach. He's just bad at it. And you better believe Greg Robinson knows it. So after the season, when Robinson goes into Rodriguez's office and says "Look Rich, if you want this thing to work here, you have to let me make some changes...I know Tony's your boy, but we need to get somebody else in here", Rodriguez better listen. If he decides to ignore his defensive coordinator's advice, this thing is destined to fail.

Last year I wrote about how I never wanted to experience this feeling again. Well, here we are, a year later, and the same shit. The feeling of inevitability, of helplessness. That sick, cold feeling deep in your stomach? I have the same one. It's the one that says Ohio State's coming into our house on Saturday, and at the end of the game, for the 6th year in a row, they're going to have shown us just how large the gap is. The rational, logical side of me says that this obviously won't last, eventually the day will come that we beat Ohio State again, that we return some semblance of balance to the rivalry. But the pessimistic, devil-may-care side of me says "When the fuck is that going to happen, huh?" And when you look at the disaster on the field, you truly have to think...how are we going to reach their level?

I'll leave that for more positive people to debate. For now, I'm just going to sit back, put on some Blood on the Tracks, and wait for the sweet relief of the offseason.

Bo Day.

In a sense, it was two years ago today. Not literally, but in a sense. The day before Ohio State. Two years ago in this position, we sat on the eve of the biggest game of all of our lives. We were 24 hours away from #1 Ohio State against #2 Michigan, with the free world on the line. The winner would get the Big Ten title, a berth in the National Championship game, and bragging rights for a generation.

And then we got the news.

For us Michigan fans, we'll never forget where we were, what we were doing. We'll never forget what we did when we heard that Bo had died. 16 months ago, I detailed what I was doing when I heard the news. I was never lucky enough to see a game coached by Bo Schembechler. All I have to go on is old videos and stories passed down from my elders that I will one day pass down to my offspring, just as Bo would have done.

The other night I was laying in bed, listening to some Dylan, when I heard a loud bang, and my entire bed seemed to shudder. One of the goddamn wooden beam support things had come loose, and the whole thing was wobbly and unstable. So I had to drag the mattress off and lift the boxspring up to put it back in place. For the first time since I put the bed in place that fateful day in November 2006, I had to repair it. It's almost fitting, I suppose. Since Bo left us, it seems like everything has come apart. We lost the game of the century to Ohio State. We lost the Rose Bowl to USC. We lost to Appalachian State. We lost to Oregon. We lost to Ohio State in the final game of Henne, Hart, Long and Carr. The Rodriguez era is young, infantile, and under siege. The day before Bo died, we were among the toast of the college football world. Now, two years after his death, we are at the bottom of the barrel, with vultures circling.

There's no logical explanation for the horrible series of events that have afflicted us these past 24 months. Maybe there is a God, and because Woody Hayes has been gone longer, he's had more time than Bo to get in his ear. I don't know. Musing about a hypothetical afterlife isn't something I specialize in or am even remotely good at. I'm just okay at knowing reality, and it's crappy right now. We all know that.

What would Bo, or even Woody, think about the current state of affairs? What would they have to say about a Michigan/Ohio State game where the winner has already been determined well before the teams take the field? In their heyday, such a thing was unheard of. I'm about halfway through Michael Rosenburg's book War As They Knew It, but I didn't have to read a page of it to understand what Michigan and Ohio State was all about during the days of Schembecher against Hayes. Ten years, ten games, ten Big Ten championships, ten trips to Pasadena. So what would they say about a scenario where the game means nothing, the result a formality? Surely they would find it perverse.

Bo never had any reason to speak out about the onfield product at Michigan after he retired. His disciples were running things on the field, and they kept it in good shape after he hung up his whistle. If he were around to see this nightmare, would he voice his opinion? He'd surely be aware that one dissatisfied word from him would have Rodriguez on the first bus out of town. Would he voice that word in the face of a 3-9 season, with imminent defeat in Columbus looming? I'd like to think no, but I have no idea.

This isn't what today is supposed to be like. We shouldn't be going through the day before Ohio State with mindset that we just want tomorrow to pass so we can move on with our lives. And yet, even when Michigan football returns from the darkness, this day will never be right for me again. Until I die, I will always associate the day before Ohio State with that godforsaken day two years ago, when we learned that the man who bled Blue, who was always there, wasn't there anymore. It haunts me to think how cruel the universe is. If there was a shred of decency, we would've beaten Ohio State in 2006 and carried Lloyd off the field then in the ultimate tribute to his fallen mentor. We would've beaten them last year on the anniversary of Bo's death. We wouldn't have had to see Chad Henne, Mike Hart and Jake Long leave the Big House for the final time on the wrong side of the scoreboard.

But the world doesn't work like that, it's not perfect. If it was perfect, our Wolverines would do to Ohio State tomorrow what they did in 1969 in Bo's first year, they would shock the world and shake up the rivalry. But that's not going to happen. Tomorrow Chris Wells will undoubtedly rip off a long touchdown for the 3rd year in a row. Terrelle Pryor will no doubt make tacklers miss and gallop for big gains. Those who could've been Wolverines will hurt us the most.

For now, all we have left to cling to is hope. We look to Michigan basketball for a beacon of hope. We see John Beilein and the basketball team entering their second year together and actually looking competent, pulling off an upset nobody expected. If there was any poetic component to this crazy little thing called life, we'd follow up Beilein's signature turn-the-corner win with Rodriguez's tomorrow. But there isn't. There's just cold reality, and the emptiness of Bo Day.

I think the last 40 or so seconds of If You See Her, Say Hello might be the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, and I could listen to it over and over...tomorrow there will be three and a half hours that I will never want to see again for as long as I live.

Marriage.

Preface: So yeah, obviously things have been silent here lately. Reasons for this are two, perhaps threefold. One, my DVR died, so I had no way of Run Charting. This issue is very close to being resolved, so I should be back up and running for the final game of the season. Two, I would've mentioned this much sooner, except until recently I was having password issues on Blogger. Three, for natural reasons, I didn't really have the will to go balls to the wall to fix the problems. Sue me.

So, since my last post, the Run Chart against Penn State, Michigan has wilted against Michigan State and Purdue, put up a shockingly great effort in the win at Minnesota, and petered out on senior day against Northwestern. The Michigan internet world continues to burn, and with each week, more logs are thrown into the fire, more people voice their opinions, the Michigan fanbase continues to fracture.

This tears at my heart. People who know me personally know that I am a cold, manipulative bastard with few true loves in this world. One of those is of course, Michigan. I hate to see people wearing the maize and blue at each other's throat, throwing around garbage terms like "koolaid drinkers" or "apologists" and the like. I'm guilty of it. And I hate it. I hate to see the team and program I love dearest in such disarray.

Nothing is going to fix this, either. In two years, if Rich Rodriguez has this thing humming and we're contending for the Big Ten title, all the chaos and hatred that has been spewed this year will be dredged up. And if in two years the Rodriguez experiment has failed and we're looking for a new coach with our tails not between our legs but cut off completely, then the chaos and hatred will be dredged up. It's either going to be the pro-Rodriguez fanbase saying "I told you so" to the doubters and going on witch hunts to see who shot their mouths off during this time of turmoil, or it's going to be the anti-Rodriguez fanbase saying "I told you so" and accusing the other side of standing by with their heads in the sand while Michigan football collapsed to the ground. Either way, there is a rupture in the fanbase, and I am unsure if it will ever be repaired.

Me? I'm still in the pro-Rodriguez camp. For the past three months I have rammed my head into the wall endlessly, preaching of patience and preaching of acceptance. I ran around telling everyone that would listen that he went 3-8 in his first year at West Virginia and 9-4 in his second. I ran around telling everyone that would listen that you don't fix everything wrong with this team when you have a shoddy offensive line with one returning starter and numerous freshmen at the skill positions. I've done this to death, and I can do it no more.

I have learned that trying to fight this fight is like arguing music, religion, or politics. You'll never be able to convince a Rolling Stones fan that the Beatles are better.* You'll never convince a Christian that God is an imaginary concept.* You'll never convince a dyed-in-the-wool Republican that Barack Obama isn't a marxist.* And you'll never convince the anti-Rodriguez faction that he IS a good coach and that he WILL win big here.

(* - Disclaimer: those are just examples, and are not intended to express any such opinions or beliefs endored by the author or this blog as a whole.)

I remain optimistic. You can say that I am accepting what has happened this year and I am a blind sheep. So be it. But I remain convinced that as Rodriguez brings in more of his players and the ones playing now get more time, things will get increasingly better.

But first, let us please dispel a couple of myths.

1. Michigan has made the same mistake Nebraska made. This is completely false. Nebraska hired someone who burned out in the NFL and had a Super Bowl team turn on him. He then stiff-armed everyone in Nebraska. He refused to reach out to alums and former players. Nebraska was willing to accept the end of option football, but Callahan said "Eff you" to everyone close to the program. So when things started to come apart, there was no one there to support him. This is not at all what is happening to Michigan. Rodriguez spent much of the offseason traveling the country, attending Michigan-related events. He met with the 1969 team. Just because Desmond Howard goes on ESPN and voices concerns, don't assume this is the status quo. Desmond Howard is bitter because he was on the search committee, and his guy Les Miles didn't get the gig. He is not objective, and frankly, he shouldn't be listened to when he discusses Michigan right now. I value his opinion as much as I value Kirk Herbstreit's right now. Furthermore, Rodriguez is not an NFL burnout like Callahan. He has coached at the college level for his entire career, and he has won everywhere. This is not a Nebraska situation.

2. Things would've been much better with Les Miles. This is perhaps a half-myth, but a myth nonetheless. Lets assume that Kirk Herbstreit's irresponsible reporting of Miles and Jon Tenuta to Michigan was true. We can perhaps safely assume that the defense would have been better under Tenuta, simply because it can't really be any worse than it is now. But on the other hand, lets look at Les Miles. Have you actually seen Les Miles and heard him speak? He is a powerful, assertive personality. One of the more common arguments against Rodriguez is that he ran off Ryan Mallett, Justin Boren and Alex Mitchell. Okay. Again, look at Les Miles. And now look at Ryan Mallett. Mallett was almost universally disliked while he was here. He had one foot out the door before 2007 began. At the time, we all blamed his sideline spout with Manningham during the Wisconsin game on Mario, because his track record of childish antics was more documented. Lloyd Carr himself told Mallett, "The only thing I like about you is your potential." So now, lets insert Les Miles. You know what a head coach does when he takes over a program? He takes over. He asserts himself. He makes it clear that it's his way or the highway. And if you've ever heard Miles talk for more than 10 seconds, you know he doesn't beat around the bush. And yet everyone is so quick to assume that Les Miles and Ryan Mallett would've suddenly gotten along? Mallett was a ghost either way, folks. And as for Boren and Mitchell? Don't even try to make that argument. You want to know why Michigan fans are so gaga over Mike Barwis? It's because Mike Gittleson's methods were significantly outdated. Barwis didn't propel Michigan into the future, he brought them up to the present. Les Miles would've brought along a similar S&C program. Mitchell would've immediately given up. The guy was a slob. I don't give a crap that he "played for Michigan." He was a slob, and I'm going to call a spade a spade. And Boren, come on. Aside from the fact that he was at best mediocre in 2007, it's obvious he was handled with kid gloves by Carr and co. Yeah yeah, I know. The old guard is coming to yell at me. Save it. If you can't admit that Carr and his staff were slipping in the last few years, then you shouldn't be reading this anyway, because any debate with you is pointless. Boren was coddled. Whether it's because he was a former player's kid or because Carr could sense he was mentally fragile or whatever, it's true. And the moment Rodriguez came in, used some salty language and actually demanded more from his players and didn't just hand out starting positions, Boren left. And he didn't just burn bridges on his way to Columbus. He nuked them. We learned all we needed to learn about Justin Boren's character when we saw his Halloween costume, so don't sit there and tell me these guys were run off and would've automatically stayed if Les Miles was here.

3. Rodriguez should've run the I-formation more this year. How is this an argument? This is irresponsible to suggest. Operating out of a different formation would not have magically made the offensive linemen better blockers. It would not have magically made Steven Threet or Nick Sheridan even remotely competent at throwing the football. All running out of the I would've done is retard the growing process for all these younger players. You can go balls to the wall in practice all you want. The only way to learn and get better in a new system is to run it in live game situations. The result is of course, horrifying to look at. It has caused liquor sales in the state of Michigan to increase dramatically. It sucks. I know. Believe me. But it's what Rodriguez knows, and if he deviated from that, if he robbed these players of the valuable game experience in the spread that they're getting, the growth process would be retarded, and all the agony we're going through would be simply put off for a later date.

This is awful, I know it is. I hate the fact that there are people who will read this and dismiss it as the ramblings of another Rodriguez slappy who is giving him a free pass and is accepting the fact that Rodriguez has produced the first eight-loss season in this program's history. And to those people, I say: piss off. Don't you dare question my status as a fan because I'm not screaming for the coach to be fired after one year. You don't think this is tough on me (and the rest of the pro-Rodriguez crowd) too? You think we ENJOY seeing our team 3-8? You think we like the fact that it's Ohio State Week and for the first time ever, there is not even a remote possibility of victory? We get angry just as you get angry. When Threet threw the inexplicable interception last week, we buried our heads in our hands just as you did. When we gave up the 20 yard touchdown on 3rd and 18, we yelled just as you yelled. If I could've, I would've been in those stands on Saturday, enduring the misery.

Ohio State is going to put us out of our misery on Saturday. They're going to win by whatever margin Jim Tressel wants them to win by. It sickens me to think like that. I hope it is the last time I ever have to. Believe me, there is no worse feeling than entering the game against the team you hate the most knowing that you're not going to win. But I'm not prepared to throw Rodriguez under the bus because of it. It's our reality. We're in a bad, bad place right now. I still believe in the man, and I still believe he's going to lead us out of this bad, bad place. For those of you who don't, so be it. I'm done fighting. Like my religious friends (tipped my hand there) and my politically polar opposite friends, this is an argument that nobody's going to win.

Go Blue, for better or for worse.

No Storybook Endings

I stood in the midst of section 31 of Michigan Stadium on Saturday, layered in two T-shirts, a hoodie and a maize raincoat, my glasses speckled with the drops of rain that were constantly falling from the grey sky.

The Big House was packed and it was a full thirty minutes before kickoff. It was Ohio State, and despite the disconcerting amount of red in the crowd, in my mind it was Michigan's day.

I was part of something great, I was connected to those around me as we cheered the seniors and booed that stupid script Ohio. When the game began, we were loud, the loudest I had experienced the crowd in my two short seasons as a student. The energy was palpable, the cow bells were clanging and the pompoms shaking with excitement.

This was it, it was finally here. My first OSU game, my chance to storm the field and dance with greatness. The redemption that we all deserved so much was at hand, and I would be there, smelling the roses.

It was all so real for a quarter, for nine hundred ticks of that clock. Michigan was actually moving the ball, the defense was stopping the Buckeyes and the crowd was on there feet (if only because their seats were so wet) yelling. It was Big Ten football at it's finest. So what if our drive stalled? We got a field goal out of it, and we were up by three at the end of the first.

And then, well... we switched sides of the field and everything went to hell. OSU scored a quick touchdown and it never was the same game. While the defense had an extremely solid performance (with the exception of giving up two big runs), the offense could get nothing going for the rest of the game, despite OSU continually giving us the ball back with plenty of time for Henne, Hart and Manningham to pull together one more magical drive...

But it never came, and slowly that realization sunk in, just as the chill sunk into my bones. I was surrounded by thousands, but I felt isolated and alone there on my bench, eighty-four rows above the field. My socks were soaked and my hood pulled up around my face in a futile attempt to fight back the cold, my hands shoved deep into my pockets because there was no need to have them out, there was nothing to clap for. A loud, wailing cry was the only thing that left my lips time and time again as I tried to spur on the defense to make one more stop, just one more before Henne lead us back from the brink of defeat. The defense came through time and time again, but the clock just kept ticking away until it was all over...

All I could do was stare at the field in disbelief, kick the puddles off water that were forming off the bench I was standing on and wait there feeling alone until I could take no more, until I could no longer bear to watch the inevitable, and I fled.

Final preparation.

Shows its age at the end, since it was made for the 100th Game in 2003...but goosebump-enducing nevertheless.

Go Blue. Beat the Buckeyes.

(Please.)

H(e)artbreak.

In 2004, they gave us a glimpse of what was supposed to come. The carries, yards, and touchdowns that were supposed to go to David Underwood instead went to some freshman the average Michigan fan had never heard of. Some short little tough motherfucker who wore #20 and had the perfect name. The passing yards, touchdowns and interceptions all went to that heralded Henne guy we snatched from Penn State's clutches. Instead of spending a year or two learning from Matt Gutierrez, he was thrown to the wolves right away. On the job training, all while carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But they had help along the way. The brash, never-silent assassin that wore the Number One decided to return for one more tour of duty. Did he know the onus would fall on him to help the new guys? Probably not. He probably wouldn't have returned if he knew that in time. But it didn't matter. Senioritis kicked in for Braylon, but not the kind you and I laugh about before kicking back in science class and ignoring the teacher. This kind of Senioritis was the kind that motivates the hearts of men desperate to prove themselves the world over; to show those who doubt them, "I'm all I've said I was, and more. Now sit back and watch me work." And work he did.

That was the night Braylon won our hearts forever. Our hearts were won, but they would be broken. Three weeks later, we saw just how much The Red-Vested Tressel was in our heads. We tried to shake it off. We were still going to Pasadena, and USC wasn't anywhere near it. This was a chance to stop the bleeding.

Instead, we watched in horror as our own beloved hero wearing #1 was upstaged by another, this one wearing #10. In a perfect representation of everything Michigan football seems to be about now, Braylon scored three touchdowns, and Vince Young scored four. Vince Young treated Michigan like we treat Michigan State - without much notice, flicking us away like annoying little insects while steamrolling to victory. In the end, Texas had 38 and Michigan had 37, and I had hours and hours to replay the fourth quarter in my head and cry about it. And I also had the lasting image of Braylon and Mike walking off the field, Braylon holding his head high, leaving the field as a member of the Maize and Blue for the final time, and Mike, the freshman, a look of devastation and sadness on his face. His hell was just getting hot. His heart was just starting to break.
If 2004 was a reminder to us of what could've been, 2005 told us what might be. Braylon was gone and Mike was hurt, leaving the coaches badly exposed. The superior talent Michigan has relied on for so long wasn't there, and the result was Seven and Five, each of the Five more painful and difficult to swallow than the last. Against Notre Dame, we were bewildered and silent. Against Wisconsin, we shook our heads and swore. Against Minnesota, we covered our faces in shame. Against Ohio State, we choked back vomit when we led 21-12, knowing what was coming, but unable to look away, and unable to accept it as truth. Against Nebraska we resigned ourselves to defeat, because that's what the football Gods had declared us the carriers of.

Those same football gods stepped out of the office for 11 games in 2006. For 11 games, Michigan football was back, kicking ass and taking names. The sinners who trespassed against us in 2005 - Notre Dame, Wisconsin, Minnesota - paid the price for their insolence. LaMarr Woodley carried the grudge of 2005. So did Mike Hart. And Dave Harris. And all the others who played prominent roles in the worst season in 20 years. Together, they united and said "not again". And for 11 games, they proved everybody wrong. They gave the finger to the talking heads that had claimed Michigan's program was sinking, that Lloyd's style was extinct.

And then that fateful 48 hours in November. The football gods returned from lunch, Bo died, Troy Smith threw four touchdowns, and Michigan's run defense gave up two 50-yard touchdowns. The smoke and mirrors of the first 11 games were extinguished, shattered, exposed. This is what we were. And we got confirmation of that 6 weeks later. Six weeks of being told "You're not good enough" after being leapfrogged by Florida. Six weeks to build up the rage and unleash it in the thorny paradise of Pasadena, against a foe all too familiar. The result was all too familiar, as well.
After 11 games of retro, 11 games of revenge, giving up 74 points in two games equals one thing: More heartbreak.

We should've known what 2007 would bring us. We allowed ourselves to become disillusioned. We all suspected this would be Lloyd's last year, and with Chad, Mike, and Jake back, grizzled by the past, we thought this would be different. Instead, we got moments like this one and this one. The year in which everything was supposed to come together came apart before it began. This year was in trouble the moment Woodley, Harris, Burgess and Hall graduated and Branch left early. But we bought into the hype. We set ourselves up for heartbreak.

So here we are. One last opportunity. One final chance. Nothing else matters except Chad, Mike, Jake, and probably Mario, taking the field in the Big House for the final time. Fair or unfair, they are judged by what they did against Ohio State. For all the love we have in our hearts for Hart, for all the moments we cherish from Chad, if they leave the field tomorrow while the Buckeyes celebrate, all of us will feel their pain. We'll have lumps in our throats, butterflies in our stomachs, tears in our eyes and emptiness in our hearts - our broken hearts.
One more time, Mike. You've waited for this moment since November 18th of last year. It's upon us now. I spoke to a friend of mine on the phone yesterday - ironically, a Michigan State student - and I said "If Mike's leg is ATTACHED, he's going to play, and play a lot." But I didn't say how well. That's all up to you, Mike. You've already created countless memories over the past four years, my friend. All I can ask of you now is for one more.

Just one more. Save us from further heartbreak, Mr. Hart.

Go Blue.

Ohio

Traveling south down I-75 is an odd thing. As you get out of the suburbs of Detroit and head down towards Monroe it's a nice enough trip, but once you leave Michigan and pass that crazy maze of on and off ramps that looks like something I created with my Matchbox cars when I was seven, you notice the one prevailing and overwhelming aspect of Ohio: everything is brown. There are no trees, there are no plants of any kind, no grass, no buildings... nothing. It's just yellowish brown as far as the eye can see. Every once and a while there will be some sort of barn or shack or a giant porn warehouse with a massive billboard for a sign. I think there are fireworks stores, too, but who knows?

Ohio sucks. It's where happiness goes to die.

It's just a collection of middling sized cities strung together by a barren wasteland of rotting Americana and dead grass. This is why they build so many theme parks in Ohio... life is so bad that they need distractions to keep the rabble from revolting. There is nothing else there, honestly... I've been there, and if you haven't, you aren't missing anything.

It's a horrible, horrible land that is represented perfectly by the colors of The Ohio State University. Scarlet for blood and grey for depression. It really makes you wonder about that "I don't give a damn" song of theres. What is there to brag about when you live in such a hellhole?

I would list all the transgressions that Ohio has perpetrated about the state of Michigan throughout history, but it would take far too long, so I'll just limit it to two simple things. Firstly, they stole Toledo from us. I understand that Toledo sucks, but at least it doesn't suck as bad as the rest of Ohio. Maybe if it hadn't been wrongfully annexed by Ohio it would be a nice city nowadays. Secondly, Ohio has the gall to exist right next to us, and certainly pollutes our very air with inferiority by just being there. Oh, and their drivers are horrible. Seriously, get in the right lane if you're not going as fast as the car coming up behind you.

And I haven't even gotten to the first aspect of the state yet... Columbus.

While I've never been to the city itself, the capital of this giant road apple, I have heard stories. Horrible, horrible stories of urine soaked parking structures and mutant subhumans crawling out of the sewers at night time. Tales of fans being assaulted in the streets and in that giant horseshoe shaped gladiatorial arena. It is not a place to venture into on a whim.

I could go on, but I will save you the further horror of having to read about such a bastion of evil. Just take my word that it is the most horrible place on earth.

Besides, their university is really awful. Their mascot is a damn nut for heaven's sake.

Swan song.

(I just finished watching that UM-OSU documentary that HBO made...good stuff. It has inspired me to blog.)

I don't think there was a certain moment in my life where I identified myself as a "Michigan fan." There was no concrete moment, no defining instant of glory where I realized, "This is the team for me." My father never spoke to me as a young boy and told me, "Son, Michigan Football is what we're about here. Saturdays in the fall are special, and I want you to be a part of it." I have blurred, faded memories of 1995 and 1996; the games that immortalized Tim Biakabutuka and Tai Streets are but fuzzy flashbacks in my mind. Years like 1997 and 1998 are a little clearer. 1999-2001 are there in bits and pieces. From 2002 and beyond, everything is in hi-definition in my memory, with every play of every Ohio State game constantly being replayed in the bizarre rat's maze that is my mind.

The sad, disgusting reality of that is of course, the freshest memories are that of Tressel. Oh, how I curse myself. I wish I had been born in 1978 instead of 1988. Then I would have the memories of John Cooper fresh, instead of the fresh hell I have gone through for too long now. Cooper was an idiot, he never took Michigan seriously, and paid for it 10 times in 13 years. Now those days are gone, and the Scarlet Curtain has descended upon our world since then. The fact that Tressel predicted all of this 310 days before it happened in 2001 only adds to his mystique in the eyes of the OSU legion. And that burns my blood. The blue blood that is pumped from my maize heart has suffered for so long.

2002 was a groin punch. That edition of Wolverines played probably the best game they were capable of, and it wasn't enough. When John Navarre's final pass was intercepted by Will Allen, I fell to my knees and pounded the carpet over and over with my fists. The anger, resentment and hatred emanated from me. So close, and yet so fucking far.

2003 gave us our moment in the sun. Against the defending national champions, John Navarre, Chris Perry and Braylon Edwards refused to lose. All the voodoo and all the magic that Tressel possesses could not overcome the revenge that seniors Navarre and Perry had on their minds. When all was said and done, roses were abound in Ann Arbor. The image of Braylon Edwards raising his finger to the sky in victory while surrounded by masses of delirium is ingrained and unforgettable.

Since then, there has been nothing but pain, anger, and tears. 2004 ambushed us; we were better, and still we were blown out. 2005 scarred us; they were vastly better, and still we should've won. Instead, Jim Herrmann bowed to Troy Smith and Lloyd Carr conceded the game with a ridiculous pooch punt. Of course in the Year of Infinite Pain, there could be nothing less than a loss to Ohio State that leaves you feeling as if you just watched a puppy dog get hit by a car.

But last year...last year took everything to a new level of pain. To this day I have not rewatched the game. It's there. It's on my Tivo. Everyday I go to the Tivo to watch something, I see it there, and it taunts me. It mocks me, and at the same time, it motivates me. It motivates me because it makes me remember the pain, the agony. A year ago at this time, my heartrate was jacked 24/7. The epic showdown between #1 and #2 was days away, and the promos on ESPN with Brent Musberger talking of Judgment Day fueled the anticipation. I still remember Musberger's voice: "A century so young...already has its Game." Nothing could match the fervor. Nothing could bring me down from the week-long high. Michigan was back, and god dammit, it was time to ascend to the throne we had vacated for almost ten years.

And then Bo died. During the UM-OSU documentary on HBO tonight, whenever they showed Bo talking, my pulse quickened; my heart fluttered. When Bo spoke of his relationship with Woody, and what it was like when Woody died, the lump in my throat grew. And when the narrator spoke of Bo's passing, my lip quivered. I never once met Bo Schembechler. I never once watched a game live that he coached. I never once had the opportunity to curse at him for some decision he made during a game. And yet when he died, he took a part of me with him. When he died, he took a piece of all Michigan fans with him. He took a piece of Michigan Football. And most of all, he took a big piece of Lloyd Carr. I'd give up a lot to know what Lloyd said to his team in the hours between Bo's death on November 17th and the time they took the field in Columbus on November 18th.

After Bo died, I allowed myself to be convinced that Michigan couldn't lose the game. Not now. With the father of the program resting in peace, the warriors of the program would declare war. It was poetic. It was beautiful. It was...not to be. The defense just couldn't get it done. The defense that had won all of our hearts broke them. It had been years since a Michigan fan had felt "Dammit offense...oh well, the D will get the stop". 2006 had fixed that. Woodley and Branch and Biggs were destroying lives, and when they weren't, Burgess and Harris and Crable were cleaning things up, all while protecting a vulnerable secondary, save for Leon Hall. We knew Ohio State's offense was high-powered, but dammit, this is the Big Ten, the defense always wins.

Not on that day. It was bad enough that they gave up four touchdowns to Troy Smith, but what kills me - and what haunts me every single day - is the fact that the run defense that wasn't just the best in the nation, they were putting up historically significant numbers, gave up two 50-yard touchdowns. THAT is why I refuse to ever watch this game again. It's not Smith abusing our mediocre secondary; that's not surprising. It's watching the front seven that had restored pride in Michigan Football crumble at the most pivotal moment. To see Woodley, Branch, Harris and Burgess - four upperclassmen that had gone through the hell of 2005 and taken their lumps and spent 11 weeks proving the doubters wrong - get beaten truly crushed me. Rome wasn't built in a day, but it was torn down in three hours.

I'm tired of this. I'm sick to death of losing to this goddamn team. My freshest memories of Ohio State are all bad ones, and that sickens me. It makes me nauseous. If guys like Mike Hart and Jake Long and yes, Chad Henne, end their careers with an 0'fer against that fucking team, what the hell is there to believe in? Is there any justice in this world? Hart and Long...and Henne, I guess, are among the best to EVER put on the winged helmet. And yet their legacies will be stained by never defeating Ohio State? No. NO. I refuse to accept this. The world is full of unfairness, deceit, lies, injustices and atrocities, but this is intolerable.

This cannot happen. Rumors of Lloyd Carr announcing his retirement are flying all over the national radar. Lloyd, Mr. Carr, Coach...if this is your final Saturday leading the Maize and Blue out of the tunnel at Michigan Stadium, make it memorable. Don't give them another bullet in their gun. Don't give the people of Ohio one more laughing point. Don't let them say they beat Michigan in your final home game. Don't let them say they triumphed over Chad Henne and Mike Hart for four years. Don't you let them do it, Coach. If this is your swan song, make it a tune that pleases the ear. Make it a tune we can hum years from now. Make it a tune that sounds like this:

"Hail! to the Victors Valiant
Hail! to the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! to Michigan
the Leaders and Best...

Hail! to the Victors Valiant
Hail! to the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! to Michigan
the Champions of the West!"

The Devil You Know

As indicated in the lower right hand corner, credit to MVictors for the picture.

Believe

No, I'm not dealing with it anymore.

It's not happening again.

I'm tired of feeling like Charlie Brown trying to kick field goals.

I'm not going to be bitter, or cynical or fear that the other shoe is about to fall. I'm not going to assume the worst, or worry about the outcome, or the past.

I'm tired of listening to the pessimism, sick of hearing that we have no chance to win. I'm done with Tressel and with losing to those bastards from down south.

I'm not going to talk about the past anymore, because it's not relevant to the Game. For me, Saturday is the beginning and the end of the 2007 football season. Nothing else matters.

The Wolverines will beat Ohio State. I know because I have to, because they have to. I refuse to believe in a world where Mike Hart will never beat them, where my most hated enemy always comes out victorious. So, I'm going to believe, no matter what the odds. I'm going to put my faith on those players making another miracle happen, of them finally coming out on top when it really matters. I'm going to believe in Henne, Long, Manningham and Crable, that they will go out on top, that they'll go out smelling like roses. I'm going to believe and know that come Saturday night, I will be in Ann Arbor celebrating. I'm not listening to any other opinions. I'm just going to sit here believing, because I have to. I have nothing else left, and there is nothing else that I know how to do.

Come Saturday, the field of the Big House will be flooded with maize and blue, and I'll watch as Mike Hart hops about with a rose, just like Charles Woodson. I'll be in the stands, jumping up and down and screaming with pure, unadulterated joy, even though I'm sure my voice will already be gone by then.

Overly optimistic?

In denial?

Completely insane?

I don't care.

I'm done whining and complaining and thinking about what might have been, and having to listen to others who are. I'm done living in the past. I know that come Saturday, we will be Big Ten Champions, we will be headed to Pasadena and we will have our place in the sun.

Isn't it time that we all just stop the endless analyzing and worrying? It's not going to do us any good in the end. We can't shield our emotions or soften the blow of defeat by lowering expectations, and why would we want to? The only way I know how to truly love something is to open myself up completely and risk that raw, stinging pain of loss. There is no other way.

So, because I'm a Wolverine through and through, and because I have know of no other reaction to all of this, I'm laying it all on the line. I'm going to just live, react and yell until I cannot hear myself think anymore. I'm just going to believe.

Hail to the Victors!

Vindication.

Over the next 6 days, there will probably be a mixed bag of emotions here at Genuinely Sarcastic. I'm usually the eternal cynic, and Matt tries to balance it out by logically looking on the bright side. I can't speak for Matt's state of mind, but I know what mine is: Focused, angry, frustrated, and determined.

I'm sick to death of Chad Henne, Jake Long, and especially Mike Hart ending seasons with their heads hanging in defeat. I'm tired of it. I've had to watch them get foiled by Vince Young as freshmen. I've had to watch them go through the eternal hell that was 2005, where seemingly every week brought another fresh dagger, another knife in another wound that just got perpetually worse - Notre Dame, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Ohio State, Nebraska. All followed the same script, all had the same result, and all fueled the rage. I had to watch Chad, Mike and Jake rise from those ashes for 11 games in 2006, anchored by the defense that destroyed the wills of all who opposed them. And then the entire Michigan football program was turned upside down on November 17th when the patron saint fell at the worst possible time. I've offered my thoughts on that fateful day, and how it affected me. After November 17th, 2006, there was nothing but heartache. I watched as the team I've grown up with for 19 years now left every ounce of blood, sweat and tears that they had on that damn field in Columbus only to come up three points short. I watched as they were jumped in the polls without playing. I watched as their chance to prove the nation wrong disappeared in 30 minutes in Pasadena, that mirage of a paradise that is in reality, a hell. I watched and listened as Mike, Chad and Jake all vowed to return, to return for one final revenge. And I watched as those best laid plans went awry before the new season was a fortnight old. I watched as everything they had returned for was reduced to a national laughingstock. And as Mike and Chad missed significant time with injury, and as Jake did his best to hold up an offensive line riddled with problems, I went through hell. As they suffered, and tried to claw their way back to some kind of respectability, I tried to love them. The betrayal and pain I felt in early September tried to give way to grizzled determination - the omnipresent urge to never give up, no matter what.

They won the war against Penn State on the shoulders of Mike. The spreads of Northwestern and Eastern - the bane of the program - were withstood. They won a lot of hearts back with the evisceration of Purdue, and paid a supreme price for it. When Mike hobbled off, part of me died. When they fell behind 14-3 at Illinois, Chad had his moment. With Mike on the sidelines in street clothes, Chad led them back as his shoulder clicked and creaked. Against MSU, with Mike again hobbled and Chad under fire, they persevered. When Chad's pass descended from the heavens and Mario stabbed it out of the sky with his hands, vindication was a heartbeat away.

The loss to Wisconsin looks bad. It has left a bitter, unpleasant taste in my mouth. The effort on both sides of the ball was despicable. Mike dressed but didn't play, Chad tried but didn't stay. Mallett shouldn't have been expected to win the game - and Lloyd Carr knows that. You can criticize him for dozens of things, and I certainly do, but he's not a stupid man. He's stubborn, but not stupid. He knew there was no realistic chance to win this game with Mallett in there. There's a reason LC went to Henne against the Spartans, but not the Badgers. The MSU game had meaning. Dantonio and MSU had been counting down the months, weeks, days, minutes and seconds until that game, and after the comments Dantonio made after the AppSt fiasco, Lloyd wasn't going to let the Spartans get away. As much as Michigan likes to downplay the MSU game, it matters. Nobody in maize and blue wants to lose to Michigan State, and Carr knows that. So he let Henne stay in there in the hornets' nest, and he delivered. But Wisconsin...there is no bad blood there. And there was nothing to gain from a victory. It looks ugly, losing 37-21. But rationally...benching Henne and Hart was the smart thing to do. Why? Because ever since the App. State fiasco and the Oregon disaster, only one thing mattered; only one thing could bring some level of vindication to this season.

That vindication is achievable. One year to the day of Bo's death, the vindication that is four years in the making is there for the taking.

NOW TAKE IT!