A Reason to Celebrate

​Fall 1997, Ann Arbor, Mi, I woke up on a different couch this morning. I usually sleep in the living room or on the back porch but this night I was upstairs in a bedroom on a different couch. The smell of sausage cooking woke me up. It wasn't pleasant. It was foul.

It was more my breath than the sausage. I must have gone three days without brushing my teeth. Consuming massive quantities of alcohol for the last 10 days led me to believe any bacteria that brushing my teeth would have removed had been disinfected by the drink. Incorrect.

It was no time for hygiene. There were football games to be won. This particular Saturday morning was interrupted by the chaos of tailgating. I wasn't a tailgater in college. I was hardly a student. I went to bed when tailgaters were arising and was lucky to make a 3.30 kickoff let alone a noon game. But this morning there were tailgaters at "our house" earlier than usual.

They were loud and unrecognizable. They had encroached on my turf and it wasn't even my turf. "Our house" was really their house but I was claiming squatter's rights and I had been building a case for two years.

I rinsed my mouth with whatever I could find, pushed aside the bottomless two liter of sprite bobbing in the sink, rinsed again and refilled the sink. I headed down the stairs, avoiding books and empty bottles of MD 20/20 to meet the cool brisk air that was billowing through the open doors, both front and back, wondering who could live like this? And yet all the beer cans had been recycled from the night before, plastic cups stacked by the sink, beer funnels washed and re-hung from the cat walk, floors mopped and kegs stacked and re-tapped. Who couldn't live like this?

More surprising however were the group of old men in the parking lot popping champagne bottles and drinking from the neck, the soundtrack was laced with Stone Temple Pilots, The Pharcyde and Lenny Kravitz, it was 7.30 am. One of my friends was outside pal-ing around with them. I was curious.

"Tuba!" I was being beckoned. "This is the Godfather." Come again?

I was just introduced to a man who was being affectionately called the Godfather and he had no recognizable features of any Godfather's I knew on screen or in real life. Not that I had valves on my neck or a brass bell for a head so I went along with it. "And this is Captain Michigan."

And it quickly made sense. These men shouldn't go by their birth names. They were more than a common reference, more than what they had been envisioned to be. To think of them any other way today would be challenging, equally as challenging however, as having conversations with them as a 20 year old after a two hour cat nap and a foamy Solo cup full of last nights Busch Light.

I wasn't impressed nor should I've been. They're presence was not for my approval. They were someone else's family and someone else's friends and I was in no mood for socializing at such an hour with anyone not named Mystique, Aura or Destiny.

I returned to the house and watched my roommates walk past me, enamored by the old men, clamoring for a sip of champagne or a shot of Puckers. Conversing as if they were prophets from the holy land only to find out their message was more poignant. They shared stories of camaraderie, and adventures from the road and both the hardships and joy of being a part of an extended family. Knowledge I had only experienced from one perspective. The new insight was much needed.

If they didn't impress at first it was my own shortsightedness, my inability to look out past my nose instead of straight down it. And thus a quick lesson was learned. Again I had taken from Michigan more out of time and place instead of reading and writing. The men had entered my life innocuously enough, even abruptly and disturbingly. But they quickly settled on my soul with little effort.

Men who initially were someone else's friends and family had, through speed dating efficiency, become just that, friends and family.

A happy birthday to Godfather and Captain Michigan, may we continue to celebrate your advancements with our own.

Lovingly,

Tuba

The Hammer: I'll Keep It Simple

I'm glad to see our website and message board maintain some of the dignity in which this institution was founded on. (Even if we've lost a little bit of it on the field). The most unflattering trait in a person is dishonesty. And what permeates from many in our fan base is the John Kerryish flip flopping of their loyalty. And if your booing and calls for Rich Rodriguez's job are defended by your definition of loyalty you need to check out Webster's online dictionary. I hear one side of the argument yell "with the talent Michigan gets how can we be 2-4" and the other side of the argument yell back in an echo "where's all the talent we used to have." You're ping ponging your impatience and your petulance across the internet and my inbox. Does your pride lack inflation? Do you not like the taste of humble pie? Is your instant gratification quotient not filled by the general saturation of sports and their television broadcasters? Are you embarrassed? Or simply losing bets? What is it that makes you stand up and boo? The fact that Lloyd Carr and Mike DeBord would have done better with this team?!

This is the first pancake in the batch my friends. No one eats the first pancake. And if you keep this up you're not getting any.

Check List

I've woken up early the last two mornings. Tuesday at 8 am and Wednesday at 9.15 am in an effort to prepare myself for the first tailgate. Unfortunately neither of those times are really that early compared to the actual time the alarm is going to go off Saturday morning. As the Spindoctors said, "It's not late its early, early." I disagree. In my life 5 am is time to go to bed not get up. Anyhow 5.45 am is going to be a harsh reality but hopefully that will be the only thing Saturday representative of that description. I'm scared! And excited! And scared!

(NOTE: Did the David Terrell interview during the Big Ten Network replay of the 2000 orange bowl freak anyone else out besides me?)

Anyhow, over the past few days (besides watching inappropriate amounts of the Big Ten Network) I've been putting together a check list to get myself prepared for my trip out to Ann Arbor. I tried to recap the things I've accomplished over the last few months as well as any last minute tasks I needed to complete before my flight. Here's what I came up with...

Check list:

1) Warm up. I had a foot long veggie delight from Subway with yellow peppers and jalapenos in anticipation of any potential feats of strength competitions.

2) Work out regimen. I drove roundtrip to Rochester, New York Wednesday, a total of 700 miles and on my way back down I stopped in Syracuse, New York at Dinosaur bbq.  FYI, I got the Sampler Extreme.

3) Hydration. Was at a wedding Saturday that started at 3pm. Got home at 1am. (As if I really needed the wedding as an excuse...)

4) Mindset. Spent an hour Monday with a shrink for the first time however even he couldn't help calm my fears about our offensive line.

5) Check vital signs. I've been keeping an eye on my cholesterol for the last year. Got that baby up from 200 to 260. "More pork sausages mom!"

6) Nutrition. Now that my official weight surpasses the aero mattress maximum (which is totally fine because now I don't need to come up with an excuse to sleep on the floor) and most plastic lawn chairs and rapidly approaching, ironically enough, the "Wii fit" weight limit I'm all set for Saturday's festivities!

This outdoor set would be simply out of the question...

With that said I'll leave you with the thought of the day...

Leading up to the 8am tailgate there's often panic about getting to "our spot." But frankly who the hell is lining up at 7.30 am to pay $40 for entry that doesn't already know where they're parking?!

See you soon!!

How Many?

by Robert Haddad​

I'm sure it's not hard for most of you to see how people here at my office know I graduated from Michigan. And of course when I over hear them say something like "oh, ask Rob, he's a Michigan fan." I quickly snap and remind them "I'm not a fan! I paid for this shit." That usually helps them understand my true love affair. I'm invested in this thing. Fans are supportive observers to varying degrees, from maniacal to passive, I on the other hand am an investor. I'm looking for returns on my dollar.

So my co-workers that are actually familiar with the sport of college football, either those that went to a school with a football program, simply like the sport or gamble are curious as to my thoughts on the season. I had previously set the over under for wins at seven without a firm grasp of the schedule. But after further inspection six might be more realistic. There seem to be five win-able games, four tossups and three uphill battles. And although I haven't fully digested what's happening this year I'm eager and excited and enjoying the lack of pressure that normally accompanies the high expectations placed on our team. Which leads me to something so poignant that Coach Rodriguez said recently. It expresses a value that at times may have been publicly missing in the past from some of our teams. "I don't want them to expect to win, I want them to deserve to win."

This excites me. It gives me a belief, along with the various articles and posts exalting our new strength and conditioning program, that we're working our ass off this year. That we understand that we're behind the eight-ball before the season starts. But this predicament has created a variety of questions that rarely entered my mind in the previous 15 seasons I've been associated with. Will the lack of talent and experience on the offense create a divide between the defense and the offense? How will this play out? What is really appropriate to expect? Can our defense win games for us? Can our offense be efficient? Is it possible to be playing on January 1st? I know all the other spreads I like, will I like ours? So many questions...so little time. This seems to be the ultimate "two steps back one step forward" scenario. I'm hoping that one step forward is taken with our Timbos on, for there is stompin' in our future!

My Mode of Transportation is Plane

by Robert Haddad​

Within four hours of walking out of my door i can be in ann arbor. the price of this luxury ranges between 220 and 320 dollars. if ann arbor didn't exist and i was simply flying into metro to go to detroit it would cost me roughly 300 dollars. most of you wouldn't waste a tank of gas to go to detroit let alone pay 300. Let's put this into perspective, my flight to vegas in July was 400, LA in January was 300 and Chicago during the various seasons this year ranged from 100 in the winter to 300 in the summer. But should I really be paying this much to fly to Michigan? And to think of all the cutbacks ("what do you mean i'm not going to be getting a frozen turkey sandwich for lunch on this flight?!" and "how much for the shitty clothed covered pillow?!" or "sure, here's 60 dollars for you to check my bag and then lose it.") But if this were a Mastercard spot I'd be telling you all these costs and ending with "Michigan Football: Priceless." But Michigan football isn't priceless. It's expensive and time consuming and if you're not careful, detrimental to your health (well actually, if you're careful then it probably wouldn't be detrimental to your health but...semantics...)

I think that's my biggest draw. The "danger" of tailgating. The beer consumption alone would fulfill my daily caloric intake. But I need more. I thrive off of Deep Fried Pork Loin wrapped in Bacon. (and by the way, i will make sure to bring in some bacon from Porterhouse steakhouse in NYC. their bacon is a frickin' appetizer on their menu. and yes, I ordered it with my steak. you'll eat with ice cream if you knew what's good for you!) I dream of reuben egg rolls and coconut shrimp and of course the coup de grace are the cheesey potatoes. I think Michigan football more than anything is an admission of mortality. No matter the drawbacks we accept that it's a necessary evil. Because it brings us together, it provides us with joy (and occasional pain) and allows us to believe. Our faith is not so much in an omniscient being but in a cold brisk Saturday morning surrounded by family dressed in maize and blue.