“No man is more important than the The Team. No coach is more important than The Team. The Team, The Team, The Team, and if we think that way, all of us, everything that you do, you take into consideration what effect does it have on my Team?” - Bo Schembechler
When I was seven years old, I fell in love for the first time.
Not with the cute girl next door, my second-grade teacher, or any of the other usual targets of a boy’s first crush.
I fell in love with the game of football.
More specifically, college football.
Even more specifically, University of Michigan football.
I didn’t come from a family of sports enthusiasts. The guys in my family were outdoorsmen, hunters, and fishermen.
But in September of 1985, I found myself sitting in our living room with the Michigan-Notre Dame game on our TV. And my life was never the same.
I was mesmerized by the pageantry and the emotion of the game. Over 100,000 people crammed into “The Big House” in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and every play seemed as though the future of the entire world depended on it.
Michigan won the game 20-12, so naturally, I became a Michigan fan that day.
For the better part of the next thirty years, I didn’t miss a Michigan football game. Not one. I missed family events, dates with girlfriends, funerals, and weddings (who gets married on a Saturday during college football season, anyhow?), but never a Michigan football game.
As that 1985 season rolled along, I became aware of just how much I could love something. I watched every game that season, and as the final game approached, I was about to find out that I could hate something just as passionately.
As Michigan prepared for the last game of the regular season, I learned about The Game. Every year, in the last game of the season, Michigan plays its biggest rival, Ohio State. I lived in Ohio, and I never got the memo that you were supposed to root for the team from your home state.
Growing up among all these Buckeye fans was tough, and it just made me hate everything in scarlet and gray even more. Many of my best friends were Ohio State fans, and we would argue back and forth all year about who was better until The Game rolled around and it was finally settled. Then, the winner would have about five minutes of bragging rights, and the debate would begin again. And the cycle continued.
Memories of my youth are littered with great moments from The Game. I was watching in 1991 when Desmond Howard struck the Heisman pose in the endzone, putting an exclamation point on his Heisman Trophy-winning season.
I was there in 1996 when Shawn Springs of the Buckeyes slipped, leaving Tai Streets open for the only touchdown of the game, as Michigan upset the undefeated Buckeyes in Columbus.
I was in the stands in Ohio Stadium in 2006 for “The Game of the Century” when the two teams met, undefeated, and ranked #1 and #2 in the country. Even though my beloved Wolverines lost by three that day, it was the best game I’ve ever been to. Everyone in that stadium was on their feet for the entire three and a half hours.
Sometimes, just the mention of a phrase or the note of a song can take me back to those moments in Ann Arbor or Columbus. The “fuck Lloyd Carr” chants from the Buckeye fans. The “four more years” chants from Michigan fans directed at the Ohio State students. A nod to the fact that Michigan’s academics far surpassed that of Ohio State and a claim that many of Ohio State’s students would need an extra four years to graduate. And of course, the Dead Schembechlers, the Columbus band satirically named after Michigan’s iconic coach, and their “We Don’t Give a Damn For the Whole State of Michigan” song, whose lyrics are still burnt in my head, nearly a decade after my last trip to The Game.
The hate is real. And it makes The Game that much more special. It is the greatest rivalry in sports. Sorry, SEC fans and Duke/North Carolina basketball fans. Your rivalries may be great, but they’re not quite Michigan-Ohio State level.
This year, The Game is especially big. Not only are Michigan and Ohio State both undefeated heading into today’s matchup, but Michigan is in the midst of a huge controversy. They have been accused of sending personnel to the games of other teams and video-taping the team’s coaching staff sending signals into the players. Recording and deciphering these signals could give a team an advantage on the field. It helps when you know what play the other team is going to run.
After two decades of dominance in The Game by Ohio State, Michigan has easily won the last two years. It has been a glorious two years if you are a Michigan fan. But now, with these allegations, there is also the sentiment by many that Michigan only won the last two years thanks to their breaking of the rules.
If they lose this year, the narrative will most definitely be that it was the cheating that put them over the top. I’ve been shocked at how much this has bothered me. I desperately want to be able to say that Michigan was the better team, fair and square.
It seems silly to let something like this get to me. It is, after all, just a game. There are real problems in the world. There is poverty, war, and climate change. Personally, I have more significant concerns, like my daughter’s education and my family’s health and financial well-being.
As the years have passed, college football has become a less significant part of my life. I don’t even watch all of Michigan’s games anymore. They have been replaced with gymnastics meets and dance recitals. And sometimes, with simply a nice day at the park with my daughter on a beautiful Saturday in October.
But I never miss The Game. It is my escape from reality. I don’t watch TV or movies. But every year for three and half hours, nothing matters except for the outcome of some game played by a bunch of college kids.
Sometimes, it can be freeing for something with no direct impact on your life to carry so much meaning. It takes me back to a more carefree time when the outcome of The Game meant everything to me.
Besides, I don’t want to listen to all those Buckeye fans claim the cheating was responsible for the last two years’ success.
So, in a few hours, I will be standing in my living room in front of my TV. I will be nervous and anxious. My hands will be a little sweaty. I will spend three and a half hours reacting to every play as though my life depended on it. I will scream with delight when Michigan scores and throw something across the room when their hated opponent does.
And in many ways, it will all seem silly. Because it is, after all, just a game.
But it’s a damn big one.
And first loves die hard.
Randy, an amazing story tracing back to your childhood. Your reflections are beautiful. I loved this:
“As the years have passed, college football has become a less significant part of my life. I don’t even watch all of Michigan’s games anymore. They have been replaced with gymnastics meets and dance recitals. And sometimes, with simply a nice day at the park with my daughter on a beautiful Saturday in October.”
I grew up an Oregon State fan and the Civil War was our big game. But not as big as yours as you point out.
Just over an hour to kickoff.
"Sometimes, it can be freeing for something with no direct impact on your life to carry so much meaning. It takes me back to a more carefree time when the outcome of The Game meant everything to me."
This is a really interesting way to look at it. I've found my own interest and enthusiasm around watching sports games dwindle hard these last couple of years. But I think there's still something really special around experiences like this because they're very communal and there's a heritage aspect to it. No update on The Game™️ from Chasing Answers so I hope it went well!