Before baseball season was started, I began to write an mgofiction. I've made it about 10 posts before being distracted for the last 6 months. Now, it's a rush to get it done before the season starts. So in the loosely adapted ways of Dante, I present to you the first canto of Formerly's Football Inferno. I promise nothing when it comes to grammar, punctuation, logical plots, or anything that normally goes into story writing.
I, formerlyanonymous, have been on a epic adventure over the last few seasons. I've been subjected to the worst back-to-back seasons of Michigan football in history, deep into the hell of Michigan football. Along my way through this agony, I made note of what exactly I saw. So here is my account.
It all began on a horror filled afternoon in September. I was at a game in Ann Arbor on a warm, picturesque day. I remember going into it hoping Michigan wouldn't be embarrassed by playing a close game against an inferior opponent, albeit an opponent featuring a type of offense Michigan had often flailed and failed wildly against. My worst fears were more than realized – rather than that 3 point high scoring game I expected, Michigan lost in devastating fashion. Crable blocked the outside guy instead of the inside, and the Wolverine's desperation field goal as time expired was blocked.
I found myself walking out of Michigan Stadium stunned. I left out the southwest gates and walked. I don't know how long I was walking, but after several hours, days, weeks, I don't even know. The time just passed, yet I found myself knowing how the season ended, how the new coaching search ended. Days just past unhappily.
When I awoke from my trance, I found myself lost in the woods. It was no longer that picturesque Saturday in Ann Arbor. It was a gray, misty-rain day, somewhat cool. There was no sun in the sky to point my directions home.
As I started to panic that I might be in the hell hole known as northwest Ohio, I could hear something creeping in the woods. I tried to stay quiet, hoping whatever the animal was would pass, but it grew closer, louder.
All of a sudden, it was upon me. Out from the brush came a wolverine. I was scared because I had heard of the ferociousness of the species. This one however, seemed beaten, as if it had escaped one of those giant bear traps. It's leg was heavily scarred. The wolverine look fat and slow, maybe one too many large pizzas. His claws were still sharp, ready to strike, but the rest of its body looked unkempt and weak.
Being the less than intelligent person I am, I approached the poor thing. That set it off. It growled a high pitch sound you would expect from a smaller dog. Before it could pounce on me and send me to my doom, a flash of light blinded both myself and the wolverine. A spirit emerged from a burrow in the ground. The spirit caught the wolverine in mid air, and held it as if it were a common house cat.
Needless to say I was startled. When the spirit turned to me, I couldn't help but recognize the face. It was John Wayne dress up as Davy Crockett from the original edition of The Alamo.
"Well howdy there," Mr. Wayne started, as if the fact that a ghostly spirit in a movie costume sparing my life from destruction by a wild wolverine hadn't put me into enough shock. "I'm Davy Crockett. What are you doing in this forsaken forest?"
I replied, "Wait, aren't you John Wayne, but just dressed up as Davy Crockett?"
"Don't get smart with me son, I'm the one that can throw this here critter right back on you," he retorted quickly.
"Noted… And thanks," I answered somewhat embarrassed. "Actually, I'm lost. Michigan football left me wandering and pondering my addiction to football. It's like mgoblog isn't even important to me after spending all of my free time there the last two years."
"Michigan, huh? I heard of 'em. Solid bunch of winners right there."
"Yeah, but today was bad. It's left me lost not only as a fan, but hell, now I'm god damn lost in the middle of nowhere talking to the spirit of a guy who wants to be Davy Crockett – no offense or anything. I just don't know what to do next."
"Well, partner, I think I can help you out a bit. Ya see, I'm a spirit that resides in the underworld. It's a pretty special underworld at that, it's the hell of Michigan football. You see, when men and women die, they don't go to none of that Christian heaven or hell. Heck, there ain't no such thing as God, Satan, or Jesus. Well, there's this Jesus character, but he's damned pretty deep in hell – real gueer. He loves him some Irish men. Me I've never liked the Irish. Ah, heck, you got me ramblin'. Anyway, you're pretty lost out here in these woods. I can't lead you out of here, but if you want to follow me, I can show you just how far down this rabbit hole goes. I promise you, on the other side, you'll find happiness not only by reaching home, but you'll also find yourself an answer about Michigan football."
"Well, Mr. Wayn – Mr. Crockett, I don't see much else of a choice."
And we were off on a journey through the Hell of Michigan Football.