About a year ago, the WLA was pretending that the Rich Rod Wolverines were undefeated and lighting the college football world on fire with their offensive machine. We pretended that pundits everywhere were in love with hotshot freshman QB Steven Threet. It felt good.
I was writing embarrassingly emo-tastic posts combining the existential pounding that last season brought with my boring personal life (this hasn’t really changed). We were in despair over a loss to ND that maybe might have could have been a win if it weren’t for excuse A, B, and C. The Michigan fans had divided into two distinct, warring camps.
Sometimes it felt like we were fighting a battle that would never be won. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t nights I considered the possibility that Rodriguez wasn’t as great as every single piece of evidence said he was. Sometimes, in dark moments I don’t like remembering, I thought the Revolution might die before it could ever really begin. But we never stopped – because if our leader Rodriguez wasn’t giving up, then we had no reason to give up.
I don’t think I need to spell out the change that 365 days has brought to this program.
Pretty soon little girl I’m gonna take charge
I’ve spent a lot of daydreaming time in the past year thinking of ways to brand the haters. After seeing Inglorious Basterds I kicked myself for not having a time machine and being able to carve “ANTI ROD” in a lot of foreheads. We kept saying “patience, give it some time …”.
This team is ahead of schedule. This team won a game it probably “should” not have won. That’s what champions do.
In the interest of being honest, I’ll admit I was a Tate doubter. Too small, too cocky, too whatever for me to be sold on him. And I will gladly line up at the crow buffet now and eat until I explode. This kid is legit. This kid has a future.
You know what, though? Fuck the future.
We can’t take anything for granted. Rich Rodriguez might spontaneously combust tomorrow. Tate might get hit by a Land Rover when the sorority girl behind the wall tries to text back her friend. Revel in the now. Michigan, unranked and pissed upon Michigan, beat the once-again overhyped Irish. Michigan slammed one nail in that enormous coffin for Weis – two or three more nails and it’ll be shut forever. Tate Forcier, no matter what he does over the rest of his career, secured himself a place in Michigan history. We need to soak this all in, savor it, bottle it, and remember it forever. Even if the future is amazing, this will be the day it started.
Maybe it’s because I am prone to relentless pessimism cloaked as rationality and logic, but it seems like life is bursts of short, fleeting harmonious joy surrounded by eons of soul breaking boredom and strife. I’m sure there are already people who have found something to complain about Saturday, and I’m sure I’ll e-fight them soon enough. That’s what makes sports so beautiful – for about 30 seconds on Saturday afternoon there was a period where nobody was arm-chairing the game, nobody was questioning Rod’s integrity, nobody was worried whether Tate succeeding would hurt our chances with a new recruit, nobody cared about that insufferable fat-ass on the ND sidelines – all that mattered was Forcier to Mathews, Olesnavage PAT Good, 38-34 MICH.
The dogs on Main Street howl
’cause they understand
If I could take one moment into my hands
This game was a statement. Think Stonum is a “disappointment” now, internet coaching gurus? Think that “Forcier sucks” now, dickbag from HS who I de-friended on facebook for putting that up as a status during halftime? Think that Rich Rod can’t win at Michigan now, change fearing douches everywhere? Think that Les Miles is the only coach in the country with BALLS, Michigan Man crowd?
I bet you all jumped in the air and smacked your head up against your dreams on Saturday afternoon. I bet you fell to your knees, literally or figuratively, in appreciation of what this team has so quickly become.
There were a lot of stories for this game. This game was about Greg Mathews and Brandon Minor making damn sure we remember where the senior leadership is on this team. It was, obviously, the Tate Legend. There was Stonum reminding everyone he is a star in the making.
I think perhaps most importantly, it was about Cissoko getting abused and laughed at all game – but not stopping. He didn’t hang his head, he didn’t walk off the field, and he was right there with a chance to ice it at the end. The kid has guts. That performance was grit-tacular. He could have quit – the whole team could have quit. Frankly, Notre Dame is more talented. They are, 7 out of 10 times, probably going to win this game. They should win this game. There was nothing our defense could do to stop them.
But they didn’t win.
Blow away the dreams that tear you apart
Blow away the dreams that break your heart
Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but lost and brokenhearted
There’s going to be a lot of wins with Rich at the helm if everything goes according to plan. This won’t be the last big time victory at Michigan.
But this was the first. Beating Wisconsin was a ray of sun into the coal mine of our melancholy last year, but it wasn’t a signature win. It was a win cobbled together by sheer desire, a worse than we knew Wisconsin team, and luck.
This game was Rodriguez. It was Forcier. It was the new era of Michigan football stepping up, and forcing the holdovers in the ranks to accept that things have changed and they aren’t going back anytime soon.
In so many ways, 3-9 had to happen. It made us realize what we had, and now we all want it back. For the first time ever there was a sideline reporter doing a fluff piece on the rowdy crowd noise at the Stadium. A Maize-Out, by some miracle of the heavens, actually WORKED. It wasn’t the same old Michigan Stadium. It never will be again. Rod is here to stay. If you need any more evidence than Saturday, maybe you should just quit now.
mister i ain’t a boy, no i’m a man
and i believe in a promised land
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