I awoke early this morning. I had to sit up in bed and quickly hold my torso to stop the turning going on inside. I felt like throwing up, I felt like punching my guy, I felt like peeing on a stick to explain this sudden morning sickness. No, it's not some sort of Schwarzenegger type scenario in which I am going to comically go through pregnancy. It's the same feeling that I wake up with at least one Saturday every November. It's the flames of passion and hatred that storm through my belly and out my urinal tract (which strangely reminds me of Spring Break). Today is the day gentlemen (and possibly a presumably sexy female), today is the day that "the horror" ends. And when the dust settles from the plane crash in the mountains, it is today when we find out either we are all dead and that this was the worst thing to happen to our college football lives, or whether we all have survived this nightmare. Except for the co-pilot of course, but he's anti-semetic. It has always been said that the importance of the Michigan-ohio state game is so great, that if one team were to lose all their games, but win "The Game", that the season would be a good one. Today is the closest we have ever come to that statement, so we get to try it out. This game is the one where I, and many others, pull out all the stops to ensure that nothing interrupts this game. I have already ordered and refrigerated my pizza for today's game so that I can just pull it out at halftime, I will turn my cellphone off, I will unplug the internet, I will lock the door to my bedroom, and I will watch this game on the edge of my seat with every ounce of emotion I have in my sumo-wrestler-like physique poured into my 27" standard definition TV. Why, because this is the way it's been done since I was 13. This year has a new coach, and new system, new logo on the jersey, a bunch of guys I hadn't heard of before the Utah game, and of course, a never before seen record. Yet somethings remain the same. Michigan travels to Columbus, they will be booed, they will be taunted, they will face the gapped toothed faces of so many cousin fuckers it's unimaginable to the normal human being. And when it is all over, I will either celebrate like hell, or I will hide under the blankets and replay every disastrous moment from the game in my head over and over, until I get hungry and have to get more pizza. Go Blue! And remember, no matter what: It's Great To Be A Michigan Wolverine!