The Saturday Morning Hype Message
Embrace your inner sicko.
When I was in college, I used to wake up at 5 am out of sheer excitement every Saturday morning, and write a several paragraph long manifesto to my fraternity group chat.
I’ve always been like this. None of this sicko shit is an act. Before I had a moderate Twitter following, a growing podcast, or anyone anywhere that would listen to me about Michigan Football, I would shout into the void and hope that something or someone out there would respond.
“I THINK KYLE KALIS CAN REALLY TURN THE CORNER THIS YEAR!”
And the universe would have no reply, for the universe cares not about what you think about Kyle Kalis.
But that’s different now. I do have all those things. This online Michigan community has been a godsend and I want to thank every one of you.
Now if I shout out into the void: “I THINK THE DEFENSE REALLY MAY MISS CARLO KEMP MORE THAN WE ANTICIPATE,”
The Void will reply: “NOT IF JULIUS WELSCHOF IS READY TO TAKE A STEP FORWARD.”
More than anything, it’s nice to have sickos that are willing to talk about this stuff as much as I am. Thank you, Void.
But Talking Season is over. There’s a certain comfort in the weeks before the first game. The season can still be anything you want it to be. You can build your team up in your mind like a house of cards before they are so ruthlessly exposed in an early September game against Washington.
That comfort is gone now. We are sitting here together, just waiting. Because for all our projections and previews and offseason twitter arguments, there is nothing any of us can do about any of this. The season will be what it will be, and all we can do is experience it as passive emotional participants.
And the only thing exceeded by our powerlessness is our resiliency. Year after year we are put through an ever-more-creative hell by this football program. Any logical person would realize this is a horrible waste of their time and not come back. The deck is stacked against you. Your historic nemesis is an unstoppable death machine, your in-state rival is a constant and embarrassing thorn in your side, your once-crowned savior has seemingly failed you. But you’re not a logical person. You’re a true sicko. A Michigan Football fan.
So who cares about any of that? It’s Autumn in the Midwest and 18-22 year olds are going to be strapping up a winged helmet and doing battle in Ann Arbor for 60 minutes. And they’ll be there next year, and the year after that, and the year after that until they stop playing this game. And as long as they’re willing to keep going out there, so are we.
Once more unto the breach. Shout down the echoes of last year. Forget all the outstanding questions and valid concerns about the long term direction of the program, and Hail The Victors, The Valiant, and The Conquering Heroes. Because even if those words seem more and more aspirational nowadays, it’s a standard that must never be lowered.
There’s no honor in guarded cynicism. If you don’t let yourself hope, let yourself hurt, let yourself live and die on every third down conversion, you’ll never be able to enjoy it when they finally do the damn thing one of these years. So do yourself a favor and allow yourself feel something today.
There’s football on today. Michigan Football. Get up. Grab a beer. It’s Game Day in Ann Arbor.
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