The Michigan Difference

As a Michigan fan, I, like so many of us, have wrapped my identity as a Michigan fan in the idea that Michigan is "Different." 

A different, higher standard of on-field excellence. A different, higher standard of off-field achievement. A different, higher standard of ethics and integrity.

That identity has taken a beating in recent years. We have confronted a run of sustained mediocrity on the field. The frustration of falling short to our bitter rivals to the south, a program that won by not being Different. The frustration of coming close, falling short, and falling back. The nightmares of awful seasons in 2008 and 2014 and 2020, worse than the worst of our imaginations as fans.

And we have confronted the grim reality that in ethics and integrity, our program is not as sterling as we would have wanted to believe. Nobody drove home the importance of doing things “the right way” more than Bo Schembechler… and nobody failed more horribly than the Michigan program and its leader, Bo Schembechler.

The years of frustration have led many of us, including me, to question the concept of the “Michigan Difference.” Is it worth being “different” if we keep losing? If Ohio State and Alabama and LSU discard ethics and integrity, and they win, and nobody cares, is it worth it? If our ethical past is… less ethical than we thought, is it worth it?

Stubbornly, Michigan has remained “different.” They remain different on the field: Michigan’s athletic programs in football, basketball, and hockey are all coached by individuals who already had long histories with their programs before they were hired. In an environment where coaches are fired two years after winning national titles, Michigan steadily sticks by men like John Beilein; they spurn flashier coaches for men like Juwan Howard; they build steadily behind Mel Pearson.

Last year, when people like me declared that Harbaugh should be let go, Warde Manuel approached the offseason in the Michigan Way. Not flashy or bombastic, eager to find a microphone. Not quick on the trigger. Yes, things were bad in 2020, but Jim Harbaugh is a Michigan man with a history of being a good coach, and Michigan doesn’t just throw guys overboard. Warde renegotiated Harbaugh’s contract; Harbaugh accepted a substantial pay cut, seemingly unthinkable. Sure, there were significant performance bonuses, but nobody could expect Michigan to achieve those. Who could believe that a coach of a 2-4 team that looked worse than that record on the field could win anything with the same roster?

Warde stuck with Harbaugh because he believed that Michigan was different.

One player believed that Michigan was different: Aidan Hutchinson. A potential first-round draft pick that had every reason to leave what could be called a sinking ship after seeing his season end after two games due to injury, and the team collapsed. He could have gone, like so many do, and made millions. But Aidan’s dad is a Michigan man; Aidan grew up like we did, loving the winged helmets, singing the fight song, loving Michigan.

Aidan believed. Aidan stayed. Because he believed Michigan was Different.

Harbaugh is making 50% of what he made last year. There isn’t a person on this board that wouldn’t get upset if they were told by their boss that they were losing half their salary. Even in a pandemic yhear where much of the athletic department was forced to take a pay cut, Harbaugh’s pay cut was the most severe. Sure, he could take solace in the fact that he could make up most of the difference by earning performance bonuses: if he were actually good enough to win the B1G and make the playoff, much of what he lost would be re-earned. Few believed that he could earn those bonuses, but they were there.

Except… they aren’t. Not anymore. You saw the news: Jim and Sarah Harbaugh decided that the massive performance bonuses written into his contract, the bonuses that offset much of the lost salary he was due to miss out on this year, would be donated to those in the athletic department that had to take pay cuts. Women and men who make decent but unspectacular livings, that have suffered through a difficult pandemic and a difficult time to work for a sometimes-embattled athletic department, suffering the stress without the glory, suffering salary reductions just to keep their jobs.

There are many empty gestures afloat in society today. Social media makes empty gestures easy and attractive; you can get “likes” on your social media posts and affirmation from people who agree with you. But donating a seven-figure bonus to people who work around you when you’ve taken a huge pay cut is not an empty gesture. It is different. It’s not just his unusual mannerisms or his odd turns of phrase; it’s his character and actions.

Harbaugh is different.

Discerning how to be different, and how to be the same, is a challenge. When do you maintain confidence in your strategy, believing that you will succeed, even when things are difficult? When do you determine that things aren’t working, and that it is time to try something new? Harbaugh has never been afraid to change things that did not work. He had to fire his friend, Tim Drevno, when it became clear that the offensive line wasn’t developing. Then he fired the man responsible for rebuilding that line, Ed Warinner, when it became clear that he was part of a locker-room culture that wasn’t functioning. He targeted young coaches that would connect with the players, that would harness their energy and help relate them to the program and each other. He got rid of Don Brown when it was time. He brought in guys like Josh Gattis. He brought in coaches for quarterbacks and receivers. He changed things that needed to be changed.

But he stuck with stuff that he needed to stick with, too. In a world where everyone goes spread, Harbaugh wants to win with the run. I have criticized him, at length, for the type of influence he has had on the game plans… but he was right. He chose a strategy that attacked areas in which other teams were weak. And, as Ohio State transitioned from a run-heavy QB option spread offense to a pass-first offense, Harbaugh stuck with the elements of his strategy that could punish such an offense. A strategy that was well-suited to catching Ohio State unprepared, that would keep its finesse from controlling the Game. A strategy that ultimately saw Ohio State shattered and buried under the Ann Arbor snow.

A strategy that he believed it, because that’s the strategy he knew and loved, because it was quintessentially Michigan.

He changed his approach. He changed his coaching staff. He changed his formations. But the plays? Counter. Duo. Play action. It’s still Michigan. He’s different, but he’s still Harbaugh.

Harbaugh was given the chance to do this one more time because Warde is a Michigan Man, who believed that Michigan was different, even when fans like me didn’t want Michigan to be different anymore. Harbaugh was given a quality defense under Mike Macdonald because he had, in Aidan Hutchinson, an elite athlete and Heisman contender who stayed with the program, because he believed Michigan was different. Harbaugh stuck with the strategy he knew, to play defense and run the ball and avoid turnovers, because he believed Michigan was different.

Impressively, the fans came back to watch. I thought Michigan Stadium would be hollowed out this year—the pandemic naturally keeping some cautious people away, the trends of the program (and the sport as a whole) chasing some other thousands away as well. But the fans were back. An electric atmosphere against Washington, watching new-school Michigan uniforms on the team with a remade new-school staff running old-school Michigan running plays and defense and winning handily. Griping like old times when difficult underperformances surfaced against teams like Rutgers, but then crowing and jumping with old-style wins over teams like Wisconsin. And back, in force, in their glorious best, on the last Saturday of November, yelling and standing from kickoff to kneel-down. The biggest stadium in college football, the only one that still fills without fail on every home Saturday.

Michigan fans are different.

And there it was, on a December Saturday in Indianapolis. A dominant win. A trophy. A player as good as any in the country. A coach, embattled, invigorated, pockets bulging with the $1.5 million he won that he will promptly donate to cheering coworkers for Christmas.

A program. Different. Not perfect. Not without its own dark history. But as the rest of the college sports world churns with coaching changes and NIL-cash-driven transfers, Michigan has emerged as an elite team in a year that began with expectations among the lowest of many of our lifetimes. They won big games at home. They won big games on the road. They won blowouts. They won close, tough games. They showed power and athleticism. They showed guts and heart.

https://twitter.com/KirkHerbstreit/status/1464671105617211399?s=20

They didn’t get there by being Alabama or Ohio State. It’s not the high-flying passing offense some of us wanted. It’s not the Don Brown press-man defense, either. There aren’t five-stars at every position, the way many of us thought Michigan needed to be to win. But it’s a Michigan team, with Michigan players like three-star Hassan Haskins and program-guy Brad Hawkins.

A coach no normal elite program would consider sticking with. A roster no normal elite program would think to assemble. A strategy no normal elite program would consider viable. A fanbase no normal elite program could hope to match.

Michigan just won the Big Ten. They are going to the College Football Playoff. Against the expectations of most of their fans and all of the college football world, the first program ever to make the playoff when beginning the season unranked. But Michigan is not doing this in spite of what it is. Not in spite of being Different.

Michigan won. Victors. Champions.

Because Michigan is Different.

Go Blue.

https://twitter.com/UMichFootball/status/1467361034059104257?s=20