My parents made sure that Michigan football is an integral part of my being. For me, a brief story of how I became attached is pointless, since I was a Michigan fan before I was able to even choose to be one myself, I'm simply incapable of remembering a time when I felt differently, lucky enough to haven season ticket holders for parents I can't even remember my first game. I'm a Michigan fan because I always have been. Part of that existence is every summer for as long as I can remember, urged on by the hope of a glorious season, I've counted down the days to the first game of the season, longing for the days when saturdays would seem less pointless. Which, is why I'm so shocked I allowed this game of such deep personal significance to sneak up on me.

I have a degree from the University of Utah, which, like the title to my $500 Subaru, certifies my ability to wade through a bureaucratic nightmare. The five years I spent in Utah were like an afternoon wasted at the DMV, a state of perpetual limbo where you're badgered by the announced passing of numbers and your only option is to wait it out or flee, so you can wait in the same line, again, on a different day. I chose to get out of line and go skiing nearly ever day. Which collectively are the still the best choices I've ever made.

So in no way should I be surprised by the nearness of Saturday's game. Both habit and circumstances should have had me ticking down the remaining days since new years. Of all games, this is the last one that should be sneaking up on me. But, after last year's Oregon game I retreated into the world of european sports, mostly soccer. I'd been leaning that way for years, and despite a history of absurd sporting optimism, that double blow to open last season made me feel we were entering a long dark chapter I didn't want to read. I found things familiar (that gripping fear of impeding doom is as present in soccer as any other sport) but much less personal (Michigan was never playing), everything had a fresh novelty appeal (relegation) , and I learned things could always have been worse, I could have been raised a Tottenham fan. Still, addicted as always, I tuned in each Saturday for the Michigan game, but retreated to my new sporting universe following each game.

I've kept up on the latest Michigan news, (usually through this site) but I am now completely adrift of the American sports calender. I'm no longer capable of forming opinions on baseball and basketball. ESPN, once rivaling NPR as the background music of my house, has disappeared from my TV. I've been extremely excited for the beginning of the Rodriguez era, but it's always seemed as distant in time as Michigan does physically, from my frosted home here in Alaska. But no more, startled by, and admittedly ashamed of my near neglect of the opening of football season I thought it necessary both to get myself ready, and to pay for being ill-prepared I figured I'd pen this little piece (that seems to have grown unmanageable) about why Utah isn't just your generic opening opponent, but a team of the worst kind, who should be despised as hated as more traditional rivals like Notre Dame and Ohio State.

Tradition is a good place to start. Utah doesn't have any. Talk of the pre Urban Meyer era is greeted about as kindly as questions regarding the existence of certain gold plates. They'll tell you their collective history, of both losing and being lost, doesn't matter, what matters is that once you see the inside of Temple Square or Rice-Eccles Stadium you'll see the truth. Unfortunately for them, the truth turns out to be a seagull statue and a bunch of unenthusiastic plastic fans. Oh, and a Boot, given to the winner of the BYU game each year.

When applying for school I thought on two tracks, Alta and skiing. I didn't even recognize that Utah had a football team. They hadn't played Michigan, or any team we had played, or played in any game that had affected Michigan in any way, or done anything of note for as long as I could remember, and so to my mind they simply didn't exist. The Ute football team never crossed my mind. I didn't even register their existence until orientation, when, during the customary tour of campus I remarked how the stadium seemed large for a small team, and a snobby sorority girl with that your an idiot look that must a qualification for membership sniped back, "small team, didn't you know, we were like third in the Mountain West last year."

At the time, I found her quip absolutely hysterical, and my attempts to suppress laughter for the duration of the tour made it, as an exercise to learn my way around, completely worthless. It served me well later on though when I attended my first game later that year. It was mid season, and Utah was playing San Diego State. I hadn't planned on going to the game, but when two friends stormed my room and claimed they were going, I figured I might as well follow along, the games were after all free. We wandered into the stadium, it was a third full. Some people were wearing red, and there was a football game going on, but no one really seemed to care. I hadn't been in my seat for more then 10 minutes, before witnessing 4 interceptions. All of them similar to Mallet's punt throw against Wisconsin. But despite the ineptitude served up on the field, no one really seemed to care, and everything progressed in the same cheery manner as before. The events on the field were of no consequence to anyone. The game was nothing more then a pageant to help pass the time before Sunday. I valued my football Saturdays too much to waste on the Utes and left the game midway through the second quarter to catch the Michigan - Purdue kickoff, a game whose result people had an interest in. Which is entirely the problem with Ute fans. They don't really care, any result can be shrugged off. Gone is any semblance of drama, as the results don't matter. The events aren't accompanied by any nervousness in the stands, and the slow build up of tension between plays is completely foreign to a Utah game. All that matters is that the team shows up too provide the fans a few hours of pleasant distraction.

People in Utah seem happy enough, but it's likely just the anti-depressants. Deep down their all afflicted by the same issue, fear of irrelevancy. They don't believe Utah is given the credit it deserves, and feel snubbed. There is this odd belief, that despite Salt Lake City's smog, the lack of booze, or the fact the the entire Wasatch front is a numbing expanse of strip malls resembling a southern California closed on Sundays and without an ocean, Utah really is the greatest. The state harbors a deep bitter resentment, which manifests itself into a strange belief that they're only an Olympics, a few Thursday night shuffle passes or an unbeaten season, away from acceptance. But when that all passes, and your still without any recognition, or victories against solid opponents, you continue to acting like a fool in search of attention.

They behave like your neighbor from childhood, who devoid of any talent, jumps around waving his hands, only to get picked last, again and again, for every game and every sport before eventually growing up to be delusional, bitter, and a cop. They share the myopia and disconnect of the missionaries at your door who grow confused when you laugh, as you urge them back out the door they may mumble how you just don't get it, or you simply haven't seen it yet, but the problem is that you do, you have and that no matter how it may have came to pass you're really not interested.

After only two games in my first two years at the school I began attending more games in my third year, when, with Urban Meyer coaching the team, in a desperate bid for attention, they began playing every Thursday and Friday nights. Not being a member of the MUSS (mormon/mighty Utah student section) me and my drunken friends were forced to wander the stadium nomadicaly from game to game. Drinking Pina Colladas with the Cal fans being a particularly memorable game. Sitting in a family section getting lectured for my language as I squirmed and yelled in anger, wondering how Michigan could have lost to the horrible Oregon team I was watching Utah dismantle is another particular fond memory. The hype that grew through that first year and into the second season of Urban revitalization was absurd. People were so defensive over the teams questionable schedule that they began to feel like victims. People didn't want to schedule them, because of the altitude. They wanted to join the Pac-10, but they weren't wanted. It wasn't their fault the Mountain West was so bad. All true, but stomping around in a pout like a neglected skank was poor form. Instead of enjoying their fluke season Ute fans spent the fall feeling slighted, and forgotten by the second week of January. But fear not, Alex Smiths high draft status and Meyer's success at Florida has since proven they were the rightful MNC champs in 2004, despite not defeating a single decent team.

I've seen the Ute fans treat a modest victory against a .500 Pac Ten team in some mid December bowl game as a title winning performance. In 2002 the Utah student paper treated scoring a touchdown against Michigan as an amazing achievement. So have no doubt the Utes will enter Saturday's game in a similar mood to Appalachian State last year, pegging all their hopes on this singular chance to make an impression on the national stage. But Appalachian State had 1-AA Championships to occupy itself, Utah has none of that. The Michigan game will be the sole game of interest they play in this year, before returning to the usual Mountain West dross of TCU and UNLV. And Ute fans, with their deep rooted sense of neglect, will treat a victory against a rebuilding Michigan as the great conquest of a super power by the plucky underdogs, and will forever use it as evidence of their team being better then they're given credit for.

So please Michigan, put the Utes back in their place Saturday and allow me to hope for a successful season for at least the first few weeks. I'll understand if it all goes pear shaped later on, growing pains are inevitable this season, but giving the Utes the taste of glory they crave would be a horrible blow to us all.

Dongshow Productions