Eleven Swans Comment Count

Brian



Seven Swans






We didn't sleep too late

There was a fire in the yard


What do you do? I'm supposed to type. I do this. I'm here now and I have responsibility to put words here. But there are no words. I tap stuff out and erase. Everything longer than two words is crass. Now? How can it be now?






All of the trees were in light

They had no faces to show


The Michigan locker room is going to be a quiet before the game tomorrow. I envision players quietly going about their various preparations: donning pads. Taping wrists. Applying eye-black. Cinching and tying, little tasks that pass the time. In between their thoughts will flutter sidelong at what awaits outside. A few may analyze the enormity of it in their heads directly. Harris. Hart. Breaston. Most will fall into the routine that has taken them from game to game since they first put on a helmet, falling into the patterns that people use to navigate when their brains shut down in fear or alarm or panic. They will proceed down the grooves they've worn in their life, and when they emerge onto the field they will operate more on animal instinct than anything else.






I saw a sign in the sky

Seven swans, seven swans, seven swans


Sport as war may have grown trite; sport as war may be vaguely offensive with the nation vaguely at actual war. But what is left when you emerge into a maelstrom of hate under a gunmetal grey sky and meet an implacable mirror of yourself? Are we to compare it to canasta? Whist? Bridge? Knitting clubs? Michigan will battle Ohio State hand and foot. It will be vicious, maiming, disabling. The winner claims dominion. Sometimes what's trite is true. When the stakes elevate to this sort of level there's nothing else to compare it to.






I heard a voice in my mind

I will try, I will try, I will try


Sport as war, clean war, where the champions of Good meet the champions of Evil on a mutually agreed battleground. According to the established rules, after three hours one is defeated utterly. The other is triumphant. The grey stops when the clouds do. We have taken the horror of war and stripped it down to its beating, thrilling heart. The term "Football Armageddon" is only partly in jest. Victory here is eternal. In 2006, Michigan beat Ohio State. Ohio State beat Michigan. Every year this is "The Game." This is The Game of Games.






We saw the dragon move down

My father burned into coal




My mother saw it from far

She took her purse to the bed




I saw a sign in the sky

Seven horns, seven horns, seven horns




I heard a voice in my mind

I am Lord, I am Lord, I am Lord




And then you try to figure out why the stakes are so high in the first place. Why this entire week you haven't been able to concentrate on anything by war by proxy. Fake war by proxy. Meaningless war by proxy. You will suffer humiliation when the team from my area defeats the team from your area. It's ridiculous. Intelligent people do not spend a goodly swath of their life pouring emotion and precious time into a contest that affects no one and changes nothing except some inky scribbles in media guides.



You wonder why. It occurs that at some point the Michigan program acquired the traits you hold dear -- loyalty, honesty, tradition, victory. And you wonder: if you were a different person who valued other things would you care so much? It occurs that at some point the Michigan program acquired other traits you share but do not hold particularly dear -- cantankerousness, stubbornness, an inability to suffer fools gladly. And you wonder: do I like Michigan because of the way I am, or am I the way I am because I like Michigan?



The answer seems clear.



Now the man who took that rudderless program and gave it -- gave you -- all the things you like and don't like is dead. In 1969, it all started with a victory over #1 Ohio State.






He will take you


At some point, as David Harris reclines -- head against a wall, fixing his bayonet, passing the time -- the faint ratatat of drums will filter through the concrete, beating out a march. Harris will rise from his seat, take up his helmet, and stride forward. The future holds its breath for three hours.






If you run, he will chase you


There's only one thing left. Play. Fight. Win. Please.

Comments

tk47

March 4th, 2011 at 8:20 PM ^

Posts like this are the reason I'll never stop loving this site.  I wish I had started my mgoblog addiction sooner so I could have actually read this back then.

This:



"Intelligent people do not spend a goodly swath of their life pouring emotion and precious time into a contest that affects no one and changes nothing except some inky scribbles in media guides."



...
 is something I remember saying to someone at work the day before that game, only not nearly as eloquently.

FWIW, I was at that game and remember that very "ratatat of drums" like it was yesterday.

/gettingexcessivelyemotionalherepeople

//talkamongstyourselves

charblue.

November 25th, 2023 at 12:17 AM ^

Well, it's an iconic blog for a reason.

And today is the reason for our season. Let us own the day. It is why we care so much and why that swath of time and devotion to our cause, the Michigan cause, and all it represents through time and tradition is resolved behind the glory, fleeting flurry of victory. We are Wolverines! We are one and we are ready. Go Blue!

 

MechEng97

March 4th, 2011 at 10:54 PM ^

Those were the days...reading this 4+ years after..so many things have gone wrong since that Day - or even the day before when Bo died.

Here's to bringing it back - a win over MSU in their game is a good start.  I'll be there...

Go Blue

Harbaughs_Pants

May 3rd, 2016 at 12:56 AM ^

Really bordering on artistic here. So good. I listened to the Seven Swans song on Google Play while I read the article. I recommend the same for all.

GRBluefan

December 7th, 2021 at 12:44 PM ^

Periodically, I come back to this post just because (1) I really like it and (2) it gives me some bigger perspective on the passage of time.  It's been 15 years since I started reading mgoblog...that was 4 houses, 3 jobs and 2 kids ago, amongst other life milestones.  I think it says something, Brian, when you can write something powerful and poetic enough that people remember it 15 years after the fact.  

Romeo50

November 26th, 2022 at 7:29 AM ^

Because war by proxy is competition and the settler of dispute. Until the next time ...and miles to go before I sleep. Words are delicious and the reason we are all here. Thanks, Brian/Seth, et al.

Tom25

November 24th, 2023 at 11:37 PM ^

I’m feeling my favorite Tool song: Descending. 

“Sound the dread alarm
Through the primal body
Sound the reveille
To be or not to be
Rise
Stay the grand finale
Stay the reading of our swan song and epilogue
One drive to stay alive
It's elementary
Muster every fiber
Mobilize
Stay alive

Stir us from our
Wanton slumber
Mitigate our ruin
Call us all to arms and order.”

 

buddhafrog

November 25th, 2023 at 3:28 AM ^

This was the most heart breaking loss I've experienced in my 53 years of life

2023, Saturday morning of The Game. 3:27am. Today will be glorious. Or it could rival 2006