"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."
Somewhere around 11:45, in just over 2 hours, the Michigan locker room will be filled with a group of young men who bled, sweat and vommitted for each other, enduring one of the most tumultuous stretches in the history of this storied program. Their stories are known by most here, but they aren't looking for sympathy. At every obstacle they've faced, every time someone tried to tear down the thing they were here to build, they fought through. Those who have remained have a dedication that cannot be questioned. They have a bond that will last until the last one of them is buried. They will sit, some in silence, at least one reading bible verses, some with their knees bouncing in adrenalined-filled anticipation. They will write the names of lost loved ones, of prayers and inspirational messages on the tape on their wrists, towels and belts. Some will shout occassionally at each other or to no one in particular, slapping their helmets.
A hush will fall over them as a short-sleeved, chubby man from deep in enemy territory enters the room. They will bend on one knee in reverent anticipation, packed shoulder to shoulder, hands resting on their winged helmets. They will need no special reminder of today's importance, as their leader has made it abundantly clear to them from the day he stepped foot in Ann Arbor.
"Men," Michigan Head Coach Brady Hoke will say.
And team 132 will flood the hallowed entrance to the Big House, prepared to break the very will of the scarlet and gray. Today, for the 58th time in this rivalry's storied history, they will succeed.
It will be Michigan again, MICHIGAN.
We only have a few hours left. Let's empty out our arsenal!!!
Welp, it's the night before (or morning of) the Mich-OSU game. I haven't been more excited since 2006. Apparently every at the brown jug is excited too. Time to start getting pumped up...10 hours to go!
This is my pre-game contribution, hope everyone enjoys it. Special thanks to Left Hand Milk Stout:
Twas the night before The Game, when all through the den
Not a person was sitting; everybody would stand
The memories were hung over the flat screen with care,
In hopes that the kickoff soon would be there;
The families were nestled all snug in their threads,
While visions of the Sugar Bowl danced in their heads;
The wife in her snuggie, and I in my hat,
Were getting pumped up to beat the players with tats,
When on the TV there arose such a chatter,
I sprang from the recliner to yell “What is the matter?”.
All over the room I flew like a flash,
Screaming and yelling “Kirk Herbstreit's an ass”
The moon reflecting on the grave of great Bo
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the Big House below
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a defensive coordinator and coach others fear
With a defense like past that helped us evoke,
I knew in a moment it must be Coach Hoke
More rapid than Denard his players they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Kovacs! now, Demens! now, Morgan and Ryan!
On, Countess! on Gordon! on, Van Bergen and Martin!
To the top of the Big Ten! To a BCS bowl!
Now blitz away! blitz away! blitz away, go!"
As dry leaves that before the wild game fly,
When they meet with a Buckeye, mount to the sky,
So up to the edges the backers they flew,
With an effective scheme and confidence too
And then, in a instant, I heard on the tube
The thrashing and mashing of their running back Boom.
As I pumped both my fists, and was turning around,
Down the sidelines the Coach came with a bound.
He was dressed in short sleeves and all covered in sweat,
And he'll never wear red let us all not forget
A mangled up headset lay down on the ground
As he looked like a coach who was making them proud.
The end of a donut he held tight in his teeth,
It was plain with no sprinkles and looked like a wreath
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he yelled like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly good coach,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
Many points of his finger and twists of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the press boxes; then turned with a jerk,
And pointing his finger with the audience in tow
Gave a quick nod as they yelled “Beat O-H-I-O”
He sprang to his team, to the guys gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, after victory's delight,
"THOSE WHO STAY WILL BE CHAMPIONS, and to Ann Arbor good night!”
Tomorrow, Brady Hoke makes an announcement: '#16 will not be playing in Saturday's game'. A flurry of questions from the media are flying, rumors go crazy: WHY!?
TSIO rejoices and quickly changes all of their defensive game planning and works overtime to prepare accordingly.
It is The Game. The first offensive series happens for Michigan and we see Gardner takes the first snap. It's a power run to Fitz, as he takes it 5 yards on first down. The crowd is shocked. TSIO feels relieved.
But what's this? A new lineup we haven't seen before. Who is that coming into the game? A #1 trots out onto the field lined up in the backfield. It is a direct snap to #1 and he charges the line for a run, but instead drops back, and throws it spot-on downfield, in-stride, to a galloping Hemingway.
Michigan's first Six. That #1 is none other than Mr. Denard Robinson.
I decided to get in on the Wallpaper act. I took some of my pictures from the game I went to earlier in the year. I hope you guys enjoy.