I came to Michigan because of the academics. It's one of the finest institutions in the world. But anyone who comes to Michigan is at least aware of the football tradition, if not a full-blown superfan by their third game at The Big House.
For me, Michigan football is in my blood. I grew up a fan and had been coming to games for years, so being a student was merely an extension of that. Yet, being a student also gave me a new appreciation for what it means to sing The Victors. I finally understood what all the old-timers on the 50-yard line were there for. I finally understood the whole "leaders and best thing."
Coming to Michigan has been, overall, a life-changing experience and the last football game I was at as a student signaled an end of an era for me. And it is my 14th-best college memory.
Football games were special for me the past four years, not just because I'm a fan of the team and proud of my school, but because my grandpa was there for every game. Two particular games will make appearances on this list for other reasons later on, but in general, it was always special to have my grandpa there. My uncle provided the tickets and was there too, but I always sat with my grandpa and it was special every week. He used to go to games, but never went to EVERY game until I was here. I like to think I had something to do with that.
Each week we had lots of rituals. My uncle would call me to let me know where they parked; I'd lie and say I had been awake for a little bit and was on my way. In reality, he woke me up. I'd shower and get dressed and walk over. Juube packed a bunch of food that nobody would eat. They'd tell me to take it or they'd be in trouble and I would tell them to throw it away.
Usually toward the end of the tailgate, I'd stop whatever I was doing and go through my weekly pre-game prediction routine. I'd start by raiding my hands in the air, then go around to everyone in the group (my uncle, usually one or two of his buddies or my aunt) and say "are you ready?" with a pointed finger. I'd end with my grandpa, and repeat "are you ready?" a few times to him. He just nodded, playing along. Then, I'd pick a player or two who would stand out and end by saying the predicted score, but calling the teams by their hometown, not school name (i.e. the South Bend Fighting Irish, the Evanston Wildcats, the West Lafayette Choo-Choos, the East Lansing Little Brothers, and as always, the Ann Arbor Wolverines).
We'd head in about an hour before game time. I'd take my grandpa's seat cushion and -with mine- bang them against each other on the walk up to the stadium, to the tune of a song usually. I'd hit the same tree every time. We'd go to the M-Den, then the old guys used the bathroom. I'd wait in the same spot every week, the same spot I used to ait at when I was a kid. Then, we'd find our seats. And watch the band. Then, at halftime, we'd meet Fred at the eagle.
Our section had a bunch of characters, mostly older people. I often sat next to this old lady who sounded like she smoked 19 packs of cigarettes a day. My favorite was this guy who always dressed up for the games, as well as this younger douchy guy who kept the section entertained. My grandpa -true to his "Mayor" nickname, knew everyone around us and would ask them how they were doing each week and joke around like they were old friends - which, I guess, they were.
The last game was really hard for me, since I knew this routine would be ending. I prepared my uncle and grandpa by telling them I'd cry a lot. I did. During the tailgate. The national anthem. When Brady yells "THIS IS MICHIGAN," when the band took the field. When the team took the field. All the memories come back: my grandpa telling me how to thrust my fist in the air during the fight song, Braylon Edwards going up in the corner against MSU in '04, Mike Hart running wild behind Jake Long, showing my sister the field, Roy Roundtree cradling the football under the lights (shhh...more on that to come later). And, most of all, that feeling that my college experience was nearing it's end.
HONORABLE MENTION: Brock Mealer leads the team onto the field
Read the story here. It also made me cry. A lot.
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