My kid’s a student-athlete at Michigan in a non-revenue sport, and she got chosen this year to be one of the student-athlete ambassadors at football games. That seems to mean she’s plays any of a variety of small roles around the stadium on game day — especially roles where alumni/donors might have the chance to interact with real live student-athletes.

Apparently one of those roles can be helping with the pregame ceremonies, like being on hand to help steer folks on the field to the tunnel after the team runs out under the banner. Saturday’s UM-MSU game was the first time she’d done that, so when we talked on the phone on Sunday I asked her how it went.

It went really well, she said, and because they had the Hall of Honor induction this weekend she got to meet some really cool folks on the field. Dick Kimball made a big impression on her, since she was a swimmer in high school. 

She said she was nervous about the actual herding process, tho’, because the kids working the field were warned (in great detail) that there are always a ton of former football players on the field before the MSU game because they’re in town for the annual Chili & Cornbread tailgate — and a lot of them are understandably reluctant to leave.

So, anyway, everything goes well, the team touches the banner, does their pregame huddle and moves to the sideline, and it’s time to start ushering the folks on the field toward the tunnel. The kids are shouting “Please move to the tunnel!” “It’s time to leave the field, please!” They were told to shout this over and over to usher people out. Predictably, it’s not working so great.

As they’re doing this my kid notices one guy who who stands out — he’s heckling the MSU band with taunts like “LOW ENERGY!” “YOUR UNIFORMS DON’T EVEN FIT RIGHT! THOSE ARE ILL-FITTING BAND UNIFORMS!” “I THINK SOMEONE THREW UP IN YOUR TUBA!”

He’s not making trouble, really. He stands out to her, though, after all the warnings she’s been given about dealing with folks on the field.

She decides to try something different. She starts yelling, “Look, they can’t beat Michigan State until we get off the field! We need to get off the field so they can beat Michigan State!” It’s working a little better — well enough that the band heckler notices and comes over to her.

She says he’s a big guy. She’s been told to not let anyone intimidate her, but he’s not being intimidating. Just loud. “WHEN I WAS HERE,” he tells her, “WE THRASHED MICHIGAN STATE. WE WON CHAMPIONSHIPS.” 

“That’s great, sir,” she says.

”I’VE GOT MY CHAMPIONSHIP RING RIGHT HERE,” he says, and holds it up to her face so she can see.

“That’s really cool, sir” she tells him — and she means it. It’s a giant Big Ten Champions ring.

“WHAT ABOUT YOU?” he asks her. “HAVE YOU GUYS BEAT MICHIGAN STATE?” 

Her polo shirt says “Student-Athlete Ambassador” on it, but I guess he can’t tell what sport she’s in. But she tells him, “Yeah, we’ve beaten State every year I’ve been here.” 

He’s impressed. “DO YOU HAVE A CHAMPIONSHIP RING LIKE THIS?” he asks. 

Her team got their 2019 Big Ten Championship rings a couple weeks ago (it’s a spring sport), and they’re incredibly proud of them. She and her roommates don’t wear them around campus, obviously, but for days they were wearing them around at home, doing homework, washing laundry, watching TV, etc., with these huge nuggets of jewel-encrusted metal on their hands.

”Yes, sir,” she tells the band heckler. “I do.” She realizes this is probably the first stranger she’s told this.

He’s staggered. It knocks him a full two steps backward. She regrets this, because that means he’s two steps farther from the tunnel entrance.

”NO WAY!” he says. “LET ME SEE!”

She’s a little deflated. ”I’m sorry, I don’t have it with me,” she says. It would have been cool to hold up her hand and show him a walnut-sized ring hunk of gold metal on her own finger, with a big blue block M on the face. “I worry about something happening to it.”

”BUT THAT’S GREAT,” he says. “YOU’VE GOT TO SHOW IT TO ME AFTER THE GAME.” 

“If we get the chance,” she says, knowing there’s no way they’ll bump into each other once the field, “I’ll show it to you after the game, sir.” 

“THAT’S SO GREAT,” he says. Now he’s happily walking toward the tunnel. She is immensely relieved.

To us, this whole encounter is hilarious. I asked her who the guy was. She didn’t have any idea.

“He was big, though,“ she said.  “And he had this long blond hair.”

”Was it Chase Winovich?” my wife asks. 

“No,” she says, “this guy was much older, and his hair was different. He had a beard, too. Kind of like a viking.” 

Hang on, I think to myself. Viking? She’s talking about dealing with the cold and picking up rally towels for us after the game while I’m scrolling through Google Images, looking for a pic to send her.

Eventually, I interrupt. ”I just sent you a photo. Is that the guy?” 

“YEEESSS,” she says. “That’s definitely him! Wow — I had no idea he was famous!” 

And that’s how my daughter got to know Steve Everitt on the field at Michigan Stadium before Saturday’s Michigan State game.