"Rodrick Williams Jr.'s 10-month old, 2-foot-long savannah monitor named "Kill" gets the RB some strange looks when they go for walks together."
darling, I'm sure you misinterpreted my jest
By Heiko Yang
I’m too tired to form an opinion about all the wonderful things that have been happening in Michigan football this past week. However, since we are on the subject of concussions, I do have a fabulous story about the time I got a concussion. Want to hear it? It’s a good one!
It was July of 2011. I was in a summer tackle football league. (Ahem. Just kidding it was softball. Tackle softball.) … I was in a summer tackle softball league, and I was playing center field. I think. Actually I can’t remember, because this story ends in a concussion, and it’s hard to tell a story in the first person about a concussion. Most of this is reconstructed from hearsay and/or imagination.
So let’s just say I was somewhere in the outfield. Dude stepped up to the plate and hit this bomb that sort of split the difference between me and one of my teammates whose name is Owen, as I would find out afterwards, not that it’s important. Owen and I both ran to the ball without taking our eyes off the ball and then boom! We collided. I did some sort of kickass ninja flip and landed on my head. I am told that I got up pretty quickly, was “out of it” for a few seconds, but then acted pretty normally. I didn’t feel injured or hurt. In fact I played the rest of the game.
The only thing anyone noticed was that I kept asking how I hit my head. I guess its because my head hurt, but I couldn’t remember why it hurt, and my brain couldn’t hold onto anything for more than 30 seconds. Clinical pearl: this is called perseveration! And anterograde amnesia! Most of my friends -- all med students, by the way -- thought I was just trying to be funny, because apparently confusion is hilarious, but none of them recognized that I was showing signs of a whopping concussion. Genuine concern arose only when I started asking how I had driven myself and where my car was, at which point I was brought to the emergency department.
Yes, some of this was caught on camera:
I was admitted to the hospital overnight to monitor for intracranial bleeding (which I did not have, thank goodness), and I began to recover the next day. Slowly I started remembering what people were telling me, and I developed a dull headache that subsided by evening. I’m fortunate that I never experienced any neurologic or psychiatric sequelae such as recurrent headaches, irritability, or sleep disturbances despite the severity of the concussion, although I did join mgoblog about a month afterwards, so I’ll have to check if “impulsive blogging” is an official symptom of post-concussion syndrome.
Anyway, I do think it’s kind of interesting to think that there will always be an 18-hour segment of my life during which I was conscious and sober that I have zero recollection of. Now if only someone could find a way to accomplish that to erase only negative memories, such as the last two weeks of Michigan football, that would be great.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, am I right?
Michigan 34, Miami 10
By Nick RoUMel
In tribute to Heiko’s brilliant deployment of his specialty, medicine, allow me to analyze the program in light of mine, employment law. Our once storied athletic department has all the hallmarks of a dysfunctional workplace.
When David Brandon took over, he cleaned house. He fired an alarming number of athletic department coaches and staff, including long term employees going back to the Don Canham years. He did this with little tolerance; employees were fired for minor and subjective offenses—or, significantly, for failure to exercise appropriate supervision over subordinate employees. I know because I and our firm represented a few of them. Sure, any new boss has the right to have his own minions, but this purging seemed to be done with little regard for employees’ loyalty, nor their valuable institutional memory.
Double standards are another feature of the dysfunctional workplace. In contrast to the scrutiny afforded lower level employees, management is free to commit a multitude of boners with no consequences. Examples are easy to tick off. Botched coaching searches resulting in the inability to land candidates that wanted to come here. Assaults on the game day tradition also turned off the fan base, like the well-documented student seating fiasco. Game day blunders ranging from the advertising noodle, to bans on water and seat cushions, the Coca-Cola ticket giveaway, to overdone productions, and unnecessary, meaningless old rock songs played ad nauseum.
Our coach, who is hired to win with integrity, doesn't win. And now the integrity part is in question. Not only does Brady Hoke’s team perform worse than the sum of its parts, but the man seemingly lied to us about Brendan Gibbons. Lying, meanwhile, is the best case scenario regarding Shane Morris. Brandon fired former star and loyal athletic department staffer Jamie Morris for allegedly lying. But maybe Brandon needs to keep Hoke around, because a classic boss is always happy to let his subordinate managers twist in the wind to take the heat.
Another classic sign of a dysfunctional workplace is micromanagement. Why does the Athletic Director attend practices, and hover during locker room meetings? Why is he the one hiring the coordinators, and not his head coach?
Ignoring customers is another symptom. Good leaders solicit input before making changes, and learn from constructive feedback. This administration plugs its ears and goes “Nyah, nyah, nyah.” To its partial credit they reversed decision on smaller issues like the noodle and seat cushions – but only after fan outcry. But why aren’t they seeking feedback before making these changes?
Retaliating against critics on the inside can be done in secret. But how do you explain such actions as taking away the press pass of John U. Bacon, who bleeds Maize and Blue, in apparent reaction to Three And Out? If they’re doing this petty garbage to journalists, imagine what they might do to anybody who dares speak against them from within.
For the most part, nothing can be done about a dysfunctional workplace. But at a public university, we have a trump card - at least theoretically. The athletic department is answerable to the President of the University and the Regents. The question will be whether they will have the courage to do the right thing and clean house, or whether they will bury their heads in the sand and do nothing.
Uncertain. Our new President, Mark Schlissel had no experience with a high profile athletic department while at Rhode Island. As such, the risk is that his ears will be bent by a select few with access. Former Texas coach Mack Brown explained that at his University, a cadre of four to five influential donors had the leaders’ ears and were able to accomplish their agendas. At Michigan, I don’t believe the power structure is that linear, but do worry whether anyone can be the change agent that is so badly needed, especially with powerful and generous donors like Stephen Ross backing Brandon.
The bottom line is that the Michigan Regents are government officials. Raise your hand if you still have faith that government officials will ever do the right thing. ... Anyone?
Fans who feel helpless can only vote with their feet. An under-100,000 attendance threatens this administration. But they believe last week’s crisis has blown over, and that the Penn State night game will provide a solid attendance figure, and then all will shortly return to normal.
Do Michigan fans have the guts to boycott? I believe that the public outcry, culminating in the impromptu rally against Dave Brandon this week, shows that people who care about Michigan football still have collective power.
With all this, the result of today’s game against the Scarlet Knights is almost superfluous. While it would be nice to win, it should not divert from the legitimate criticism that lies at Brandon’s feet. It is our duty to speak out and do what we can to end this dysfunction. That does not make us fair weather fans. When one party to any relationship is treated with such disrespect, they have the right to rise up and resist. That does not make you disloyal, or a fair weather fan – it means you care.
I for one cannot take this anymore. Yes, I wrote earlier this season that I was past the point of having a Michigan loss ruin my week. But when the entire department is showing signs of being rotten to the core, it hurts - as a fan, an alumnus, and a writer who tries every week to bring a light hearted approach to this sport.
Today, my heart is not light. I ache for the players who try their damndest and those of us who support them. And I will not bear this dysfunction without dissent.
MICHIGAN ALUMNI FANS - HALF A MILLION STRONG,
ATHLETIC DEPARTMENT – 0
By Heiko "My Name Does Not Lend Itself To Nicknames" Yang
Hello. So sorry about last week. From the feedback that we received, Mr. RoUMel and I realized that we needed a change in tactics after we both predicted a loss and negatively influenced the outcome of the game. You may not know this, but here at Punt-Counterpunt our number one priority is balance. Accuracy, while valued, is secondary. Last week we violated our first principle in favor of the second, so to atone for our error, we have decided that both of us will predict Michigan wins.
I assure you this is not disingenuous in any way whatsoever. I have been following the developments regarding the football team over the past week and analyzed them critically. My conclusion is that Michigan will be victorious today for the following reasons:
1. Changing quarterbacks is the appropriate remedy. Although this kind of move typically results in less favorable outcomes among most programs and we have no evidence to support that Shane Morris is in any way better than Devin Gardner, it is better than doing nothing. As we say in medicine when we take the Hippocratic Oath, “first do something,” because we all know that you can’t cure someone of a deadly illness by standing around.
Think about it like this: if Michigan had Ebola and the experimental drug were unavailable because he’s in San Francisco coaching the 49ers, what would you do? Brady Hoke’s expert recommendation is to give antibiotics, and I concur. No, it does not make sense because Ebola is a virus and antibiotics are for bacteria, but at least you would be doing something. And really, what’s the worse that could happen? If an Ebola patient lives long enough to develop C. diff diarrhea, you congratulate them for surviving Ebola.
2. Attendance will be kept above 100,000 at all costs. Yes, even if it means bundling tickets with Coke products or flat-out giving them away. Sure, there may be negative consequences of this in the long term, but at this juncture Michigan cannot afford to think about the long term. There is an immediate need for resuscitation. If your patient is bleeding out and you can’t stop it, you give them blood immediately, end of discussion. Try to match their blood type? No time. The only blood available was obtained from the black market? Don’t care, give it! But this is Michigan, fergodsa—? No, this is West Africa, and if the patient lives long enough to discover they have viral hepatitis or HIV, you congratulate them for surviving Ebola.
3. We have no idea what’s going on inside Schembechler Hall. Michigan is still abiding by its policy of keeping secrets and providing non-information regarding their personnel and game plan. This is highly advantageous because it allows the staff the freedom to focus and do whatever they want without daily criticism from fans and outsiders. It’s like admitting a patient and then not updating the family about anything until the patient is either cured or dead. If dead, you cite HIPAA as a reason for not divulging the fact that you gave antibiotics and unmatched blood. If cured, you congratulate them for surviving Ebola.
Michigan 5, Minnesota 4
By Nick RouMel
I have never felt this low, nor sensed this much despair. Even the RichRod years felt like a temporary blip, and hope for the future remained alive. But now … Wolverine Nation is in disarray, mean, ugly, and divided.
I was astounded last week at the comments Punt/Counterpunt generated. Heiko and I each picked a home loss. The reaction was swift and negative. “Disgusting.” “Yellow.” “Fire both of these idiots for these predictions.” “Fucking awful.” “Dong punch.”
Although I snickered at that last one, the feedback did sting. I don’t usually get such negative reaction to my writing, except in my day job from opposing counsel and judges - but I digress.
One comment in particular stuck with me: “What a fucking copout.......that's a coward's way to look at this game. So, if we lose then you can say "We told you so."”
Well, yeah, that’s the point of predictions. And despite what many readers may surmise, by and large our columns reflect our true feelings. Nor do I ever root against the Wolverines just for the satisfaction of an accurate call, nor get any joy if it comes true. But lately it has been very difficult to be optimistic.
That all changes this week. No, I don’t think our sick team is out of the woods, but I do feel we’re well enough to beat the Gophers. Forget how bad I may feel about criticism – if you’re a player or coach, it has to be a thousand times more brutal. Every time you pick up the paper, turn on the radio, or browse the internet, the inescapable message is that you’re all worthless bums.
I think this criticism has fired up the team. While I don’t generally ascribe to the philosophy illustrated below…
… there is something about the “us against the world” attitude that sometimes inspires extraordinary effort and motivation.
I am also hoping for a little personnel change to make things interesting. From the beginning of the season, I had advocated for Shane Morris to play quarterback. This is not to say anything against Devin Gardner. He is a gamer and a real talent, and I don’t think Morris is necessarily better. But my thinking has been, if you have two talented players, why keep one on the bench? Can you imagine a pro set with Morris at QB, Funchess and Gardner spread wide, the fast little guys in the slot, and a healthy Jake “One of the Butt Sisters” busting yards in the middle?
Not to mention Green, Smith and Hayes churning out those gaudy 6-plus yard averages behind a good offensive line. With the solid defense that we have, all we have to do is minimize mistakes and bonehead plays to be competitive in every game.
As such, Minnesota doesn’t stand a chance, regardless of who is behind center. I have to believe that we have done hit bottom – and that we start climbing out today.
Yes sports fans, my name is Counterpunt, and I make predictions. Dong punch this, suckas:
MICHIGAN 24, MINNESOTA 10
expect PLANES today apparently
By Nick RouMel
This weekend is already a success! I sold my tickets for $30 each, a significant improvement over the $20 I obtained for my Miami ducats. This does not include the cut taken by my friendly neighborhood protection racket.
Truth is, I cannot bear to be present during the Utah game. I fear a terrible result. I base this on several important factors.
One is Utah’s all time record vs. the Wolverines. It is just as good as that of several other formidable opponents, such as Alabama, Appalachian State, Auburn, Florida State, and Iowa Pre-Flight. The last time Utah played Michigan, they beat us in the Big House 25-23 en route to an undefeated 2008 season.
Reason number two is the disrespect afforded us by today’s opponent. Heed this from the Salt Lake City Tribune, contrasting the 2008 contest to this year’s game: “Back then, beating Michigan was a sign. It indicated the Utes … were ready for prime time. By contrast, this Michigan team might not be among Utah’s top five toughest.”
“Back then?” Ouch. Has it been that long since anyone considered Michigan a signature win?
Reason three is Brady Hoke’s all-time record against Utah coach Kyle Whittingham. It’s 0-2, both losses coming when Hoke coached San Diego State. This is conclusive evidence that Whittingham is in Hoke’s head, just as surely as that box of Little Debbies sits on Hoke’s desk.
Reason four is that the official attendance will be less than 100,000. In fact the stadium will be so empty that the best Carl Grapentine will be able to muster is “the largest crowd watching a football game anywhere in Washtenaw County today.” For the most part, I expect the fans who do attend to spectate with marked indifference.
And reason five, for my fear that Michigan will not prevail over Utah, is that I cannot overcome my overwhelming lack of confidence to predict a victory for this team - at least at this point in the 2014 season.
Sports fans, this may be a Punt-Counterpunt first – two picks for a home loss. Definitely not a milestone worth celebrating. Please accept the following with my apologies:
UTAH 24, MICHIGAN 21
By Heiko Yang
This is less Punt-Counterpunt than it is Delay of Game-Punt from the 37. What better to follow up disappointment than with more disappointment?
I agree with Mr. RouMel’s reasons for why Michigan is going to lose today, but I believe he’s thinking and feeling too hard. I prefer much simpler explanations.
1. Utah wears red. Over the last two seasons, Michigan’s record against teams wearing red is 3-6. That’s not good. It’s 4-6 if you include CMU last year because you think maroon is the same as red, in which case you probably also think corn is a vegetable.
2. I don’t know what the capital of Utah is. Does anyone? It’s probably obscure like “Cheyenne” or something. Wait, the internet says it’s Salt Lake City. That’s stupid, and I don’t believe. That’s like saying Detroit is the capital of Michigan, or New York City is the capital of New York, because having your biggest city be your capital is completely un-American. Stop being so un-American, Utah. Here in America we play with 11 players – not 12! -- and our wide receivers are not allowed to sprint toward the line of scrimmage before the snap, so don’t even think about it.
3. The entire Utah team went to see Maze Runner last night.
Michigan’s running backs feel like they’re in Maze Runner every other play.
4. There’s a guy on their team whose last name is Amaama, pronounced “ah-mah-ah-mah.” That reminds me pleasantly of that muppets song called “mahna mahna.” Please, Special K. Please play the muppets during the game. If you don’t, Michigan Stadium will be awash in my radiant disappointment while I will cheer loudly for Amaama if he plays, which he probably won’t, because he’s a freshman OL, and only at Michigan do we play freshman OL.
5. Today is September 20. The last time Michigan had a football game on September 20 was in 2003 when they played Oregon. And lost.
Utah 35, Michigan 21
[Editor's note: yes I know someone is supposed to predict a win against a middling Pac-12 team. Depression! Ennui!]
Yeah, it sure does hurt.
By Heiko Yang
Well that sucked. Not sure what more I can say about last week other than I can’t believe my pessimistic prediction (ND 21, UM 16) wasn’t pessimistic enough. I actually thought at halftime that Michigan could shut out Notre Dame in the second half and score a couple touchdowns, but of course that didn’t happen because why would anyone make any halftime adjustments.
One of the nice things about not covering the team anymore is I can choose to stop thinking about Michigan football during the week. I don’t have to go to depressing press conferences and ask inconsequential questions about game plans and then have to listen to it all over again while transcribing. I don’t have to open the mgoblog app or Twitter to read about how crappy Michigan played against Notre Dame and why the season is over. None of this is in my face anymore like it has been the last three years.
Except I still spend my free time scrutinizing postgame pressers, looking for the game column Monday around noon, waiting patiently for the UFRs, and scanning Twitter daily for developments. No matter how disappointing the result, I’m finding it impossible to mentally or emotionally distance myself from Michigan football.
Win or lose, following Michigan football is important for my happiness. I don’t know why. It’s an obsession that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, and it’s a weird feeling I’ve been trying to figure out for more than a year now. It’s counterintuitive that I can feel better by thinking about the very thing that makes me feel miserable.
So far I’ve concluded that the underlying reason for all of this might be -- idunno, hope? Certainly not hope in the cure-for-cancer sense, but more like hope as a coping mechanism. I think most you get what I’m talking about. No matter how badly a game goes, there’s always a degree to which every fan will rationalize the results and pick out the tiny glimmers of hope indicating that things weren’t as bad as they seem and that there might be a better outcome next time.
As Michigan fans, we’re lucky to have this blog to do the rationalizing for us. The weekly UFR is the ultimate tool with which to say, “Yeah, we scored zero points, but because of X, Y, and Z, we may be more likely to score more than zero points in the future.” Even when Michigan is losing, like it was the entire second half of 2013, there are individual performances we can follow week to week in order to find tiny victories, like Frank Clark’s emergence and Devin Gardner’s heroic performances in spite of staggering adversity. It’s always a thrill when these tiny victories come together in unison to give you that one perfect game or that one badly needed victory over a rival. Last game, it was good to know that there was improvement by defensive front and offensive line. Even though getting blanked by an absconding rival always sucks, it’s nice to believe that the team is taking a step forward from last season’s ineptitude.
I don’t think this tendency will ever change, and I don’t want it to. Michigan might be mediocre for the next five seasons, but many of us will continue to watch because we will always have hope that things will be better next game.
It isn’t a bad addiction by any means. It’s a weekly exercise in optimism, and there’s nothing weird or maladaptive about a way of thinking that someday might actually help lead to a cure for cancer.
Michigan 52, Miami 10
By Nick RouMel
Welcome, Heiko, to Wolverines Anonymous. Have a cup of coffee and take a seat.
We too used to live and die on the outcome. A bad loss would ruin our day, if not our week. Look at my friend Jim over there, sitting in the folding chair, with a half eaten powdered sugar doughnut. In 1980, he was driving, listening to the Notre Dame game, when Harry Oliver’s 51 yard field goal barely cleared the crossbar to beat Michigan, just as the fierce crosswinds that had been blowing all afternoon miraculously stopped.
Jim stopped his car on Washtenaw Avenue, got out, banged on the hood for a few miserable moments, and then presumably drove straight to the nearest bar. He still hasn’t recovered.
Today, Heiko, we are on the road to recovery. It has been a long, arduous trip. But we are no longer emotionally beholden to the fate of the football team. We have stopped tailgating. We put our tickets on StubHub and hope they sell. We do crazy things on Saturday, like spend time with our families. Heiko, for the rest of us in this room, it’s over.
Oh, sure, we do our share of cyberstalking. We check the score, furtively. In meetings, we scan MGoBlog, and nod knowingly at the sage insights, while our co-workers think we’re agreeing with the boss. Our hearts still leap a little bit when we score a recruit, like Jabrill Peppers.
And when the opening drive is hitting on all cylinders, that familiar longing returns. We dare hope. But reality intrudes, rudely. Like when you’re in a hotel bar in Toronto, watching the game with your wife, and it turns ugly. And you don’t even realize your wallet was stolen while you were hammering down Rusty Nails and yelling at the screen. Thank you, Hilton security. But I digress.
It’s not, Heiko. It’s not important for your happiness. It’s not a five year bump in the road. It’s not what it once was. It’s a diversion. That’s why you’re here. Have a coffee and doughnut, and pull up a chair. We can help you.
Yes, my name is Counterpunt and I’m a cranky old S.O.B. I haven’t cared in …
Whoa, what’s this report on my IPhone? John Harbaugh is tired of the Ray Rice mess in Baltimore and might be enticed to Ann Arbor? That would be a great fit! It could bring us back to glory!
Enjoy your doughnut, Heiko. I’m going to the game.
MICHIGAN 27, MIAMI 19
PUNT – Notre Dame 9/6/14
by Nick RouMel
I made it out of town for this week’s game. All around me are the reminders of the rich history of Notre Dame: travels down Notre Dame Street, and the majestic Basilica:
Yet the populace here seems unconcerned with tomorrow’s game. In fact, the only reference I’ve seen to football is an out-of-the-way sports bar last night that featured the Seahawks-Packers game. No, not this one:
In fact, the only reference to football in this town is the occasional obscure sign of the local squad, the Montreal Alouettes, the only team named after an herbed cheese spread:
Yes, sports fans, I am in Canada. The Notre Dame Basilica to which I refer is here in Montreal. It features no “Touchdown Jesus,” “First Down Moses,” or the only head coach in Notre Dame history who never lost a game, George “Resume Padder” O’Leary. (I mean seriously, why would you lie about whether you played football at the University of New Hampshire, a team whose motto is “Win or Die?)
Right now it’s looking like the only pregame pep rally available is at a Montreal Jazz Club, where I either made 8:30 PM reservations on the all-French web site, or sold my wife into slavery. I guess I’ll find out when we get there.
Tomorrow, I’ll look for a sports bar in Toronto to watch the Wolverines take on the Irish. I have to admit I was impressed by the opener. Our men were prepared and played well. Last year the most miserable performances were against the teams we had a right to take lightly, and those close victories for me stung even worse than the losses. It was nice to see us get out of the gate on such a high note.
Can the Wolverines sustain momentum, for a team it embarrassed last year under the lights at Michigan Stadium? You know the Irish want to end the rivalry on a high note, and maintain its slim lead in all-time-percentage over the Maize and Blue. But I have a feeling we’ll be feasting on poulet. Nothing will be left but the bones.
Pawk pawk PAWK!!!
MICHIGAN 28, NOTRE DAME 14
By Heiko Yang
Unlike Mr. RouMel, I am decidely not on vacation. However, I am also not in Canada, so I think we’ll call it a draw.
A couple years ago I did drive out with the MGoCrew to South Bend to watch the Michigan play Notre Dame, which ended up being the third worst decision I’ve ever made involving sporting events. This was the 13-6 game during which Michigan’s offense chose to donate generously to Manti Te'o's Heisman campaign rather than score points. The offense was the worst it had ever been under Al Borges, even by 2013 standards – which seems impossible. Yet somehow the defense kept hope alive all game.
But then on the final drive, Denard chucked a fade to Gardner, who was a receiver at the time (because who needs a viable backup quarterback?). The pass caused him to run out of bounds and collide with the corner of a metal platform about 10 feet from where I was standing.
Hope was dead. For a scary minute, I thought Gardner was dead, too.
Over the past few years I’ve learned to hate whenever Michigan has to play a road game. Horrible things happen during road games. Dudes get punched, ACLs get torn, and ulnar nerves get palsied. I don’t think any of the top five candidates for “Most Traumatic Moments of Brady Hoke’s Tenure” have occurred in the Big House, which is perfectly fine. Home is still a safe place, as it ought to be.
Michigan also just flat-out plays poorly on the road. Most of the blame fell on Al Borges and his frequently terrible game plans for road games, because for whatever reason he had a penchant for outsmarting himself in that situation. But the players didn’t help things much either, what with drops and blown assignments.
Now Borges is gone (may he retire in peace). The players are still here though, and they still have to execute the whatever the new game plan might be and stay focused at a rival stadium. This isn’t Northwestern or Illinois or Purdue; this is Notre Dame, where Sunday mass starts on Saturday night and the field is curved* to mock the idea that the earth is round.
I’m afraid they’re going to play poorly again. The Irish know they need to rattle Gardner. If they’re successful, the rest of the offense will fall apart, and the defense can do only so much before they succumb to fatigue and crappy field position. I guess that means that it all comes down to the offensive line to make sure the most important strand doesn’t unravel.
Is anyone feeling good about this matchup now?
Michigan 16, Notre Dame 21
*I assume this is actually for draining purposes, but it is still really weird to look at.
by Nick RouMel
Bo was dead. Brandon was quite sure of that. The Wolverine coaching legend died in 2006, just before #2 Michigan was to play #1 Ohio State. They lost that game en route to a post-Bo record of 50-41.
Brandon was trying to fix that. He had done everything, from restricting student seating to proposing fireworks. Yet here his team stood, on the brink of what might be another mediocre season.
And there Bo stood. The Bo statue, that is, at the newly renovated Schembechler Hall. Brandon liked to come here, to gain wisdom from his mentor, when he was in crisis.
Bo had never moved before. Not his statue, anyway. Brandon squinted. Perhaps he was just tired. Kickoff for the Appalachian State game was less than twelve hours away, and Brandon’d had a long week. He rubbed his eyes and turned towards his car, to go home.
“Brandon! Drop and give me twenty!” It must have been Nussmeier. He was a cutup, that guy. Thought he’d be a studious type, but when he showed up for his first meeting in an Al Borges mask, they knew he was a joker.
Brandon turned and froze. It was not Nussmeier, but Bo who stood before him. “Let’s take a walk, Brandon.” Brandon had no choice.
It seemed as if the walk to the stadium took hours. It was daylight when they reached the tunnel. Brandon was compelled to run, and was surprised to burst onto the field to a deafening roar. Michigan Stadium was filled, and Brandon was bewildered.
“Where are the flyovers, Coach? The big video screens? How will people be able to watch the game - or see Beyoncé?” Brandon’s eyes fixed on the student section. He saw happy young people streaming in with friends, choosing their seats. Some were carrying quarter kegs with game tickets taped to them.
Brandon wheeled to Bo, and gasped. “They’re sitting where they want?!!!!”
Bo wasn’t there. He was on the sideline, barking at #85.
Brandon smiled at the memory. He had come out of South Lyon High School as a quarterback, but in three years under Bo, he played only a few minutes of one game as a defensive end. He once said, “It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was the hot-shot kid coming out of high school with nine varsity letters, and I learned that didn't count for very much.” Bo’s defenses gave up a mere 83, 57, and 68 points in Brandon’s three years with the team.
“The team.” Bo jarred Brandon from his reverie, reminding him: “It wasn’t about you. Or anyone else. It was only ‘the team, the team, the team.’”
“Why do you say it three times?” Brandon asked. But the ghost was gone.
Brandon awoke. Had he dreamed? He remembered a football game, a glorious win, and Bo was carried off the field. The scene abruptly changed. There was a tiny college, that came to the Big House without fear. They blocked a field goal, and won. They beat the storied Wolverines. It was called, simply, “The Horror.” Brandon smiled. Wouldn’t it be nice to have people remember that again? He showered, dressed, put on his suit and tie, and whistled “The Victors.” It was game day.
There was no such thing as ghosts - and Bo was indeed dead. Brandon was certain of these things. Yet for some reason, he felt a chill as the jets roared over the stadium.
APPALACHIAN STATE 30, MICHIGAN 28
By Heiko Yang
It was a dark and stormy night, the best of times and the worst of times … and uh … beware the ides of March, quoth the Raven … Rosebud.
Sorry Nick, I can’t do it. You win. Except for the part where you predict a Michigan loss, which I will get to in a moment.
But first, hello! It’s good to be back. I took a hiatus from the blog after last season to defend my thesis and then start clinical rotations, but I am so happy that it’s finally football season again and that I get to continue writing a weekly Punt (or Counterpunt, because Nick is an overachiever and finished his creepypasta like a month ago because he’s weird). Third year of medical school has been both mentally and physically draining, and I’ve been looking forward to having something to look forward to, if you know what I mean.
It is a little weird being a fan again. Not that I haven’t rooted for Michigan since the beginning, but for the last three years I’ve been watching Michigan games from the press box and following the team as a member of the media -- someone who is more or less in the know but not encouraged to emote about things for fear of being unprofessional. The way I dealt with this was with wry humor: whenever something good happened, I laughed. Whenever something bad happened, I laughed. And when Michigan State happened last year, Ace and I sat in a car in East Lansing and had an inebriated contest to see who could come up with the saddest song ever. Anyway, there was never any cheering or booing in the press box, but by golly was there a lot of laughter.
I’m glad I don’t have to do that anymore. As a fan, and as a student, I finally get to wear one of those yellow t-shirts I got many years ago and show up to today’s game 15 minutes late and then cheer freely with all my friends in section twenty-whatever. I think I’ve missed this experience more than I know, because I don’t think there is anything more cathartic than yelling opinions like an idiot at people who can’t hear you.
Well, nothing except putting your opinions on the internet. So here are my opinions for today:
The offensive line will be fine. They will be limited all season by size and experience issues, but playcalling will put them in a position to succeed, and they will be no worse than a middling Big Ten offensive line.
I’m more excited to see Jehu Chesson and Freddy Canteen than I am Amara Darboh and Dennis Norfleet. This is not a knock on Darboh or Norfleet, I just have this feeling that Chesson and Canteen will be bigger playmakers from people who have been privy to Michigan’s practices.
Devin Gardner is going to be rusty. It’s to be expected for a guy working with a new O-line, playbook, and playcaller. And coming off a broken foot. He will be throwing the ball away more often than not. But here’s a bold prediction: his first past of the season won’t be an interception, like what happened last year.
I’d like to see if Greg Mattison switches between “over” and “under” defense. Michigan could easily accomplish this while leaving the same players on the field, and it would be an interesting wrinkle for teams preparing for primarily an “over” look.
Brennen Beyer is going to get a sack before Frank Clark does.
I wasn’t here for the HORROR pt 1, so I feel like I can say this freely without feeling like a kid who just said “bloody mary” five times in the bathroom at a slumber party: Michigan is going to win easily because of sheer athleticism and being mentally prepared to quickly stomp out any sign of … hey why did it get so chilly in here all of a sudden?
Sorry, I digress. A couple more opinions: Adam has been doing a fantastic job with the press conference duties. Keep it up, man! (But try not to get carpal tunnel!) Oh, and I miss Al.
Appalachian State 6, Michigan 42