Screw Blue

Hate is a strong word, but hate is what I feel toward the University of Michigan. There, I got it out of my system. To even utter the name of that wretched place strikes me to my core (therefore that university will herein be referred to as "them", "they", or "group of despicable sucks"). More than willing them to lose every football game from now to eternity, I bid they go straight to hell and die. A plague on all their houses, including the Big House. Why do I feel the urge to spat on anyone sporting the maize and blue? I bleed scarlet and gray, that's why.

My appreciation for football came during my formative years. Starting with running endless pass routes with my brother in the backyard and graduating to barnyard football games, Madden, and Monday Night Football; football consumed the dreary fall afternoons in Ohio. Ohioans love football; Ohio State Football. Look, we have the Bengals and the Browns, okay!? Lovable losers. The real fate of Ohio Football (and to be honest that of the free world) rests with the Buckeyes. National Titles and undefeated seasons hinge on one game. Mediocre and crappy seasons hinge on one game. Life and death hinges on one game; the last game: OSU v. that "Group of Despicable Sucks". You know who I'm talkin' about. The stage is set.

Rewind to the '90s. Ohio State is graced with legendary names like Galloway, Germaine, George, Boston, Pace, Katzenmoyer (too many to list). Unfortunately, the Bucks are also graced by John Cooper. Year after year the Buckeyes are either mediocre or National Title contenders and year after year (for a decade) they manage to lose to those wankers! My college house mates and I had made it tradition to each drink a 40oz. of malt liquor per quarter during the big game. This usually ended in a lot of slurred swearing by late in the fourth. Our one win during the Cooper-era only bought us a lousy Rose Bowl trip since we couldn't put MSU to bed. Frustration.

Enter Jim Tressel. Finally someone that recognized that all of Buckeye nation teeters on the brink of one game. After five years of drowning ourselves in Magnum and King Cobra, no more. Three trips to the promised land, one National Title, and most importantly, only one loss to those pansies from up north. My college buddies and I still call each other during the big game to mock the other team or to vent. It has been awhile since we got belligerent together and shouted hate slogans at the other team (Author's note: To be exact, it was January 3, 2003; a date that every Ohio State fan will remember. My buddy Ted and I decided that it would be a good idea to trade off Irish Car Bombs for every Buckeye touchdown. Good thinking until the game went to double overtime. Anyway, despite not knowing my own name, I was able to tell everyone in Englewood Ohio who the f-ing National Champs were!).

For tradition's sake, I think I'll pour back a few beers this year, root on the Bucks, and give ol' Ted a call. I dunno if I can do the malt liquor anymore and I'll have to keep the obscenities to a minimum, but know this: Hail to the Victors bitches!