Schucked

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I once heard Paris Hilton talk about cargo pants and say that people in the midwest wear them because they have to...because they all work on farms.  I found it to be amusing that she was so out of touch with reality.  I mean, I am technically a midwesterner.  I don't wear cargo pants because I work on a farm, I wear them because they have pockets that hang further away from my tailgate belly.  My tailgate belly and child-bearing hips could, at any time, crush my iphone 5 if it were in the regular top pockets.  And then I wouldn't have Siri.  So who would I talk to when I had a question?

The reality is, there is a midwest like the one Paris thinks she knows.  And it's in Nebraksa.  The residents of Lincoln, or "city-folk," seem as if they were plucked from a Norman Rockwell painting, with perhaps a bit more flannel.  They’re fresh off the farm.  Seemingly happy in the little place that they’ve dug out for themselves, their level of politeness was downright uncomfortable, and they were genuinely happy to have us come to their town, as if they hoped that during our visit we’d share what the world is like outside of Lincoln, or show them some new piece of technology, like a laserdisc player…or indoor plumbing.  Walking around the city on gameday, multiple tailgates in multiple areas wanted to provide us with beers for our walk.  Prior to the game, members of our group were offered tickets, for free.  And when we said we had tickets, they offered to swap our tickets with theirs so we could perhaps have better seats, and then we could go and sell our own to get some money.  This is not a joke.  This is not an exaggeration.  That’s what the guy said.

They barely booed when we took the field.  They were almost silent in victory outside the stadium after the game.  A Nebraska fan and his wife stopped me on my slow dejected walk to the car and said that “it wasn’t fair” because he came all the way to Lincoln to see Denard and Denard got knocked out in the first half.  I’m guessing when he said he came all the way to Lincoln, that it was less than 50 miles away…but a good three days journey by stagecoach.

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In short, it was like another planet.  Columbus folk know that there’s things going on outside of their inbred infested hell hole, they’re just too stupid to put together a plan to get out and see the rest of the world.  Nebraska fans, and I say this with all due respect to a fanbase that treated me so well, seem to ignore the fact that the outside world exists.  It’s a different kind of dumb.   Safer for us as travelling fans, but very strange to experience.  

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Nothing comes in, nothing goes out.  Ever heard of a Runza?  They sell them in the stands like hot dogs.  It’s a baked bread pocket with meat, onions and cabbage in it.  They’re everywhere in Lincoln, and you’ve never heard of them.  They have a microbrew lineup, but it is universally served as the microbrew lineup in all of the bars.  They have several restaurant chains that are only chains within the greater Lincoln-Omaha area.  They even stole the Tilted Kilt concept and rebranded it as their own.  It’s like a parallel universe.

And I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy myself, or that the food or the beer or the people weren’t good.  It was just, well, weird.  Maybe I was in the wrong part of town.  Maybe I’m so bitter over the rest of the places I’ve travelled to in the Big Ten and the asshats that have engaged me and my cohorts in every possible rude way you can think of.  I guess i'm just taken back by the fact that we had a game at 8pm in hostile territory and had no incidents.  None.  So, thank you Nebraska?  I think that's what I'm supposed to say.  Just stop touching me when you thank me for visiting.

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There was also a game.  It was painful most of the way, obviously more so once we lost Denard.  Russell Bellomy wasn't ready for this.  You can chalk it up to receivers dropping balls, or nervousness, or not being able to find a rhythm.  Doesn't matter.  The contingency plan for a fallen Denard was not in place.  And the blame for that is on the staff.  If there's one thing we know about Denard, it's that he gets knocked out of games with some regularity.  This season it hasn't happened much, and I think we got comfortable with him.  Comfortable enough to push the Devin Gardner experiment to a point where he hadn't taken a snap at QB in weeks.  He couldn't come in when Bellomy fell flat.  He hadn't practiced.  

I'm not sure if Denard is really going to play this weekend.  But I am certain he will be knocked out of a game again at some point down the road.  I'm sure that Bellomy will be better when he next appears, and I'm sure that Devin will be ready to jump in too.   But that's too little, too late.  Our defense performed admirably, and was taken to its limits.  They kept it within reach.  That game was winnable, and would have had us firmly in the driver's seat for a trip to Indy.  Now we need help to get there, and that help will mean nothing if we slip up again.  We left ourselves with no room for error because we were not prepared.

It's Basketball Season in East Lansing...in October

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The Big Ten is an abomination.  Two teams (OSU and PSU) are ineligible for post season play (and might be the best of the bunch)​ and only two show up in the current BCS rankings (Wisconsin and Michigan).  The latter muscled their way into the rankings by playing Big Ten opponents, proving little other than the short attention span of voters and computers.  But here we are.  Already having proven we can't play with the best of the best ('Bama), and proving we can make enough mistakes to lose to a team (ND) that is so grossly overrated and lucky that I'm guessing that attendance at Catholic religious services has increased...with new arrivals citing that their conversions are based on the witnessing of miracles in front of touchdown Jesus.

But right now, we have to deal with what we've got.  Take care of the M's, the N's, and Iowa.  Win the division.  Win the Big Ten.  Go to Pasadena.  I hope a day will come that this is not the ultimate milestone, but that day is not today.  We're still transitioning.  We have our goal.

These games are ugly, confusing, difficult to watch, and obviously difficult to coach.  The direction of the offensive​ scheme is questionable at best, and no doubt being held captive by one of the most dynamic athletes in college football.  But we are doing Michigan things, building Michigan things...like defense.  And we are winning Big Ten games.  We have our goal.

Saturday meant something.  The game was tucked away on the Big Ten Network.  Nobody saw it.  Nobody cared except us.  We beat our in-state rival.  We ended their winning streak against us.  We continued our amazing history, hitting a milestone 900th win.  We rushed the field to celebrate.​  We have our goal.

There are five contests remaining, and some of them are going to be difficult.  There seems to be no in-between.  Either our opponent has the horses in their front seven to stop Denard and we will struggle...or they do not, and they will be embarrassed by #16 multiple times in a rout.  I think Nebraska and Ohio have a chance to be the former...maybe Iowa too, as they seemed to be able to do it in past seasons.  I am hoping the rest have me relaxed going into the fourth quarter.  We have our goal.

The plan for this season, and likely the next, is not to dominate or return Michigan to the national stage, but just to maintain the status quo waiting for Hoke recruits to be ready to play Borges football.​  Big Ten Championships are historically a pipe dream for Sparty.  We win National Championships more often than they go to the Rose Bowl.  But Big Ten Championships are the status quo for Michigan.  We have our goal.

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I paused on the inside concourse deck of section 30, rested my hands on the rail​ and took it all in.  The kids trickled out on to the field, celebrating the end of several years of waiting, the end of several years of pain, the end of the jabs in the ribs from the Sparty neighbor.  I thought about my friend Larry that I've sat with since I was a freshman at Michigan.  He was the ultimate homer.  He never gave up on the team, and he wouldn't let us either.  His friends came up to tell us that he had passed away in the off-season at a too-young age of 48.  When it was 10-9 and our backs were against the wall and I had given up hope, I needed Larry to tell me not to.  Maybe in a way he did.  There were a lot of tears in the stands on Saturday.  Some of postgame relief, some for Larry, some for other friends that we've sat with that we've lost that would have loved to have seen us finally beat MSU.  And that's why this means something.  It's a part of us, bad or good.  We live vicariously through this group of 18-22 year olds.  We support them because they are our extended family.  We support them because it is due to them that we have met many of our friends.

Whew.  Enough sob-story stuff.  It's basketball season in East Lansing, and it's only October.  Enjoy it.  Talk about it.  Talk shit about it.  Then go get that white jersey out of the closet because we are headed to Lincoln for the first time.  Go Blue!