3yardsandacloud
Administrator Emeritus
Well it's here. The day I love, the day I dread. The day before the Michigan game.
I love it because in less than 24 hours The Game begins. I dread it because ... well I'm still waiting. I've been waiting all week, all season, in fact, since the last Game. I get no work done this week. It's hard to concentrate. It never changes. I feel a bit sick to my stomach, nervous, edgy. The Game can't get here soon enough ... then it ends all to quickly, and I'm waiting again.
That's the unending cycle. Each year, the same as before. Oh sure, it was somewhat different once. Growing up with Woody and the boys, I came to understand the War ... the 10 Year War. (My apologies, in advance, for any offense I'm sure to cause by using terms related to war. It is not my intention to belittle or tarnish in any way those that serve our country. I simply need to use the terms that I associate with this game) Each game a battle with 2 generals prowling the sidelines. At that young age I really thought this was as close to war as one could get without guns. Everything mattered. You despised them ... they despised you. While you respected their abilities and strengths, they could be NO common ground. ALL that mattered was 60 minutes on Saturday ... only then could you determine victory or defeat in the crucible of The Game.
Enter Earle Bruce, and a somewhat older me. The day before the game is slightly different, but still no sleep. I understand that this is merely a poor reflection of real war. Many important things were still on the line. Pride, dignity, honor, class ... everything that mattered to self esteem was there for the taking. All won or lost in 60 minutes. Too long to wait, too long. This isn't about the only team that matters. It's about the only 2 teams that matter. I know it's special ... it's The Game.
John Cooper. What can I say. I get sick before the game. Seriously, I'm nauseated and sometimes I vomit. Nothing has changed. It all comes down to this game ... and the wait. The intolerable wait. It mocks me ... taunts me ... abuses me. I can't take it anymore. Nothing can quench the fire except victory. A victory that comes not often enough. The college football world has grown. There are many teams, but none that can claim ... The Game.
Today. I'm sick. Sick of waiting. I don't get sick to my stomach anymore. Well, not often anyway. The Game still means everything. After some years when I wondered if the rest of college football was gaining ground on our tradition ... I'm amazed. Nothing compares. No where does the entire year boil down to one moment. All the work, the effort, the heartache, the joy, the study ... the waiting ... all of it made worthwhile in 60 minutes. It can NOT arrive soon enough. 60 minutes later, I'll begin the wait once again.
Go Bucks ... Beat Michigan.
Here's some reading material for your wait ...
I love it because in less than 24 hours The Game begins. I dread it because ... well I'm still waiting. I've been waiting all week, all season, in fact, since the last Game. I get no work done this week. It's hard to concentrate. It never changes. I feel a bit sick to my stomach, nervous, edgy. The Game can't get here soon enough ... then it ends all to quickly, and I'm waiting again.
That's the unending cycle. Each year, the same as before. Oh sure, it was somewhat different once. Growing up with Woody and the boys, I came to understand the War ... the 10 Year War. (My apologies, in advance, for any offense I'm sure to cause by using terms related to war. It is not my intention to belittle or tarnish in any way those that serve our country. I simply need to use the terms that I associate with this game) Each game a battle with 2 generals prowling the sidelines. At that young age I really thought this was as close to war as one could get without guns. Everything mattered. You despised them ... they despised you. While you respected their abilities and strengths, they could be NO common ground. ALL that mattered was 60 minutes on Saturday ... only then could you determine victory or defeat in the crucible of The Game.
Enter Earle Bruce, and a somewhat older me. The day before the game is slightly different, but still no sleep. I understand that this is merely a poor reflection of real war. Many important things were still on the line. Pride, dignity, honor, class ... everything that mattered to self esteem was there for the taking. All won or lost in 60 minutes. Too long to wait, too long. This isn't about the only team that matters. It's about the only 2 teams that matter. I know it's special ... it's The Game.
John Cooper. What can I say. I get sick before the game. Seriously, I'm nauseated and sometimes I vomit. Nothing has changed. It all comes down to this game ... and the wait. The intolerable wait. It mocks me ... taunts me ... abuses me. I can't take it anymore. Nothing can quench the fire except victory. A victory that comes not often enough. The college football world has grown. There are many teams, but none that can claim ... The Game.
Today. I'm sick. Sick of waiting. I don't get sick to my stomach anymore. Well, not often anyway. The Game still means everything. After some years when I wondered if the rest of college football was gaining ground on our tradition ... I'm amazed. Nothing compares. No where does the entire year boil down to one moment. All the work, the effort, the heartache, the joy, the study ... the waiting ... all of it made worthwhile in 60 minutes. It can NOT arrive soon enough. 60 minutes later, I'll begin the wait once again.
Go Bucks ... Beat Michigan.
Here's some reading material for your wait ...