[Ed-M: Interesting stream of consciousness post that captures one fan's emo experience watching the Ohio State game. Knocked to board from diaries, but not a bad read if you get through it]
I get to Miami Mike's, a local sports bar at about noon. Yes, I didn't miss kickoff. I'm expecting a loss, but I still have some optimism. You never quite know, do you. But on Saturday we did. We all did. We all knew deep down, even if we felt like we could win, that we were going to get our asses kicked by Ohio State. I make some conversation with the Buckeye behind me. He doesn't seem like the average buckeye, he was kind of an okay guy. He doesn't fully know what he's talking about, but I have nobody else to talk to. Anyway, after the first two drives, I've lost all hope. I knew that there was no way it was going to be close after the two failed redzone attempts.
After the kickoff return, I put my head down. It's not going to be like last year, where it was somewhat respectable, we are going to get killed this time. Then, the buckeye behind me starts to get annoying. He has his parents with him, which made things worse, because they kept asking stupid questions like "Are we at home or not." I then had to listen to him answer. But, they all know the words to the fight song, nevertheless, I have to listen to it. He starts taking shots of tequilla, and then he really starts to say some annoying things. "That's what seperates the good recievers from the shitty ones, right there." "His names Boom because he knocks people over." "Dammit, we couldn't sack that bastard, that slippery bastard." He said that after Denard escaped a couple of sacks, and ran for five, on like third and fifteen.
At this point, I'm thinking to myself "We went three and out, shut the fuck up, why are you getting so pissed for god sakes." He also continuously bitched about the holding call on the ninety yard run. I keep thinking "Jesus Christ, you're killing us what's the difference between first down at the twenty and a touchdown. There's no way we're coming back." But then I realized, I can't do anything. There's nothing I can do to change it. I can watch the game every Saturday, and cheer or sulk, but it won't make our players better. I can't do anything to improve Michigan football, as much as I want too, I can't. I can't play, or coach, or do anything. Whether I like it or not, or like the guy behind me or not, we got our asses handed to us on a platter on Saturday, and there's nothing I can do about it.