Today we morn, tomorrow we play

More than a little drunk at the moment. Unfortunately it has done nothing to abate my encroaching sense of sanity. Trust me oh denizens of the cyber plateau you don’t want to see me when I gets real. Now, obviously, the sudden passing of yet another cherished part of my childhood (To anyone who doesn’t follow football imagine Mr. Rogers has just died. Yeah, it’s like that. But worse because we knew it was coming, in retrospect. We were all just hoping the old coot had another game left in him.) has taken some of the wind out of my sails. Plans – should I ever bother to have them – have been altered, half-polished posts gone unwritten, and I’m just really in the mood to fuck the next person who steps to me all thirteen kinds of up that I, personally, can deliver without breaking the sound barrier, you know?

Unfortunately, nobody’s playing ball tonight. Now, I’ve been silent here, of course, but that just means my words have been pouring out in other ways. In e-mails, in instant messages, on other boards and sits, on the phone, even to complete and utter strangers as I’ve gone about my day as Wolverine Nation, no, really, all of college football and southeastern Michigan has closed ranks so that we can all lean against each other, I’ve been trying to express just what this means to me. I’m still not able, I’m afraid. In fact, I fear I’ll never will.

What I can tell you is that I have been touched, honestly touched, by the outpouring of support and sympathy from all the graduates, students, and adherents of OSU that I know. Haven’t heard even the first ill word. Kinda says something about me that I was expecting it, I think. But I find it comforting that when something like this sad day happens, well, this silly little feud that’s been worked up over the years – in no small part because of the great Mr. Schembechler – is so easily cast aside. Just a few moments ago I got off the phone with someone I really only talk to once a year. Generally some time after the final margin has been decided in tomorrow’s annual game. If the Wolverines win, I call them. If the Buckeyes win, I get the call. You can imagine what that’s like. But, well, all they had to say was how truly and deeply sorry they were. We traded a few stories back and forth. Memories of games and coaches past. I trotted out that old chestnut about how Coach Hayes ran out of gas once, driving home from Michigan, and pushed his car over the border because he refused to stop and spend one dime in the Great Lakes State. He talked about 1969 and what it was like before the 10-Years war (Perhaps remembering yet another long ago war between the north and the south. Probably remembers that one, too. I’m just saying - guy’s old). And more. We talked, in short, and it was, well, nice. And far from the only example that springs to mind. I think any plans I had to have a little fun if and when my team won have turned to ash seeping through my hands at this point.

It’s just a weird day all around. Buckeyes are actually being nice to me. But let’s not forget that for all our sorrows there’s going to be a game played tomorrow. It a few short hours we’re going to have to put aside this tragedy as our teams fling themselves against one another. I know I’m going to. Bo wouldn’t have put up with any whining or moping while there was a football game on. Count on it. Win or lose it’s going to be the biggest wake ever held. Here’s something I wrote at another site that I liked and I’m just going to put it up here so I won’t forget it:

“Can I just say the timing of this just really stinks. Another day or three and he would have lived to see the coming game.

I'm a longtime Michigan fan in many ways and means. Old enough to vaguely remember the Schembechler era, young enough that I was only a child when he was still coaching. Still, some of my earliest memories are of sitting around New Year's day watching my team playing in one Rose Bowl or another. And there was Bo, just a confident, steady, unshaking presence on the sidelines. Even after he retired he was still there as a guiding hand to all that honor and lore. And now - on the eve of the latest and greatest game in that tradition until the next one - he's just suddenly gone.

I was a student at the U and I bought my season tickets and went to every game I could. Just in time for the last championship season to unfold out of the blue. So now I'm sitting here looking at my Michigan hat and my Michigan shirt and all the other things I've laid out to wear to watch the game tomorrow. And it all seems so...unimportant somehow. Bo's gone. What's the point? How am I going to cheer at all tomorrow with a piece of my childhood gone? And all I can think is, "Man, it's just a football game. Why do I care so much?"

We miss you Bo and I can only hope we're going to go out and win another one for you. Today we morn, tomorrow we play.”

Oh, yeah, that’s right. Game on, motherfuckers. Game. On. This one’s for Bo.