Go Green :)

I used to equate wolverines to republicans.  The two captured my mini-year-old stink-eye gaze with equal measure.  I can't say I've come around to republicans, but my unbridled distaste for the maize and blue has diminished through the years, particularly given that my D3 liberal arts almamater, Albion, allowed me to take a fairly neutral stance.  Go Britons!! (...)

But, here I find myself on the cusp of becoming a U of M grad student, and I've come to the resounding conclusion that I cannot give up my spartan roots, faraway as they are.

I sang the MSU fight song with more loyalty and passion than anyone else in Mrs. Kocher's 3rd grade music class.  I was wearing a blue knit tank-dress with white trim around the sleeves the day that she busted out the assignment.  I remember this detail because I was not wearing the appropriate color for the occasion!   I was content with my unique knowledge of the lyrics and eye-rolly-appalled at my classmates' disregard for said knowledge.   (I also knew U of M's lyrics but only in the way that someone takes satisfactory measure of their enemy before battle).

Anyway...

I pondered my loyalty this week while deciding whether or not to purchase U of M student tickets- they're a steal and probably pay themselves back if I feel like dedicating myself to re-selling them.  But, after input from an older-wiser-lived-longer person (let's call her Mom), I decided against the purchase.

Here's why:

The last minute of the 1995 MSU vs U of M football game was magic.  The sun had set, and one of the first snows of the year glistened under the lights and disappeared.  Time seemed to do the same, with each team besting the other in only painstaking minutes to spare.

I was there.  I'm sure somewhere in all of that fuzzy footage is a small 9-year-old in a purple snow suit.  My parents had box seats that evening, allowing my big brother and I a world unto our own in our usual season seats, feeling excited and grown up.

I remember holding my breath and praying into the sparkling nighttime sky for that last touchdown.

The adult in me really hates the violence and destruction inherent to this sport- and the national obsession with it often seems laughable and a bit cliche.

But ...you know what they say about cliches.

Sometimes, there is magic in a whole community rallying for the win.  There is magic in children wrapped in purple snowsuits turning their eyes toward the sparkly heavens- if for no other reason than their passion.  And sometimes, even I must admit, there is magic in football.  There will never be a game as great as the night the spartans brought down the mighty wolverines.

Go Green. 

Love,

Zoe