Epic Fail to the Victors

In retrospect, maybe it was a good thing that this game wasn't televised. If it had, I might have spent my weekend shopping for a new TV. As it was, I tried to catch it at the local sports bar, having grown increasingly panicked at the chance the game was something other than a cupcake smash (Not that I expected Michigan to lose, mind you, I just thought it might be a close game since looking at Appalachian State had revealed a tested team with a mobile quarterback, the kind the Wolverines tend to have problems with. I figured it might be a competitive game to watch and there's this waitress, and...) figuring they'd have whatever package contained the Big Ten Network. Turns out they didn't, since it's only available on certain satellite providers they lacked. So, I wound up watching the State game I could have caught back home and nearly going into cardiac arrest everytime the ticker or an update flashed into view.

It was inevitable, I guess. Just like, one day, a 16 seed is going to beat a number 1 in the NCAAs. With all the FCS or D I-AA teams scheduled to open seasons, one of them was going to beat a high ranked team. I just wish it hadn't happened to my Wolverines, of course.

Now, I'm not one of the people screaming for the head of Lloyd Carr or calling this the greatest upset ever. That, I think, takes away from what Appalachian State accomplished. Give them their dues, they came into the Big House, stood before the 100,000, and came to play. Michigan had every opportunity to win that game, led in the statistical categories (And maybe, oh maybe, if but Hart had stayed healthy), but from what I can tell, it was Appalachian State's game almost from the kickoff. They deserved to win. And, as the defending D I-AA champs, maybe that shouldn't be such a surprise. Certainly, they weren't intimidated by the wings or the size of the crowd or anything else.

It's a loss. A bad one. Even though losses in September are a lot easier to overcome than ones at the end of the season, it still means that any realistic shot at a national title is gone. There's still the Big Ten, though, and a chance to bury the demons of OSU. I felt this coming week's game would be even tougher on UofM, because Oregon has another speedy quarterback, but now I wonder if the team can pull things together, get over this loss, in time to get those hopes back on track. I kinda doubt it at the moment. It's a historical loss, the first time it's happened, but I think it's being hyped as the “greatest” by the same sports machine that dubs the latest, the newest, the best ever before moving on to the next and the next. Michigan will still have its recruits, Michigan will be back. If not this year, then the next. Or the next. That's why it's an elite, premier program. And one loss, no matter how unprecedented it is doesn't change that.

What I can't say, though, is that I'm surprised. As I said in my misguided post the day before the game, a true Michigan knows that when people start talking about UofM, start ranking and regarding them, that's the time to worry. Because, for the most part, they crumble under that weight, wilt under the pressure of those expectations. I never would have called the loss to Appalachian State in a million years but I wasn't buying my BCS Championship tickets, either.

Maybe it's because I'm older, wiser, and another year removed from my days of slavish fanship. But with all the talk, all the hype heading into the season, I couldn't help but recall the last time the team was expected to do well after an unexpectedly good season. And that was '98, the year after the team had split the national title with Nebraska (Something that, no doubt, helped give us the BCS system we have today. So, you see, I have ample reason to hate the Cornhuskers.). Hopes were high heading into the season. Charles Woodson and our quarterback, Brian Griese was gone, and in his place someone named Tom Brady was starting over the heralded blue chipper Drew Henson. But our offense otherwise looked solid and the defense promised to be as stout as the year before. Anchored not by the secondary but the line. Expectations were high. Michigan was going to show everyone that the year before hadn't been a fluke. They were going to contend, not just for the conference title but for the championship as well.

It was also, for me, the first year I bought season tickets to the games. I was still in college at the time. The years before, I hadn't bothered. Owing to some concept of what was cool and what was expected of me by my hipster peers and, more likely than not, my inability to turn in any paperwork by a deadline, I just never had them. Thanks to scalping and trading, I managed to get tickets for most of the '97 games (They were offered to students in a split package, due to demand. You could get four games that included MSU/Notre Dame, or four games that included OSU. Something like that, anyway. But if you were quick, you could buy up tickets to the remaining games, as some of my friends did.) at a premium. Including that snowy afternoon against the Buckeyes that secured the team's destined place. I still have a piece of the stadium's turf in the back of my refrigerator from when we rushed the field. Oh, the troopers at the bottom tried to stop us, tried to keep us in the stands but they knew, we knew, everyone knew what was going to happen. I ended that night trying to catch the last bus home to North Campus after standing outside of Bollinger's house along with a hundred other screaming, delirious fans. Good times.

The next year, '98, promised to be every bit as good. And I bought my tickets and my Michigan gear, got into a group of seats with the friends I'd made watching the game the previous years. Our first opponent that year was Syracuse, a lowly rated team with a star quarterback – some guy named Donovan McNabb - and not much else. Walking to the stadium, my friends and I were giddy. Ecstatic. We taunted the fans wearing orange. Told each other that the Orangmen were meat. Wondered, idly, just how big the margin of victory would be. Then we walked into the stadium. Not to our seats because there wasn't any sitting in the student section. Everyone was on their feet, standing, waiting, cheering.

And then McNabb ran circles around our defense. Passing, running, scoring at will.

A far cry from the previous year's masterpiece against Buffalo. The revenge for the Kordell Stewart bomb, a defensive gem begun with back to back sacks that set the tone for the entire year. No, It was a blow-out. The season went down in flames from there. Michigan, for whatever reason, has never been able to deal with the kind of speedy, option-esque, mobile quarterback. Your McNabbs, your Vicks. And, yes, your Armanti Edwards. I don't get it.

And, more to the point, I don't want to get it. This year's a write-off, already. Football's done a few months early and I find myself with some unexpected free time.