People — prospective students, in particular — tend to ask me a question quite often: what is it about Ann Arbor that drew me back here for another three years of bank account-busting, Michigan winter-enduring, liberal bastion of higher education-learning academia? Often times, it’s impossible to explain all the reasons without sounding totally irrational. It’s something I’ve become accustomed to, really.
But I will tell you this: standing in a stadium with 110,000 strangers, all with one color (maize) and passion (Michigan football) in common, on a Saturday afternoon is one of the more compelling and visual excuses. Explaining to my classmates why my voice is shot on a Sunday afternoon is also quite apparent.
There’s not many places on earth I would rather be on a Saturday afternoon than at The Big House. And yesterday’s game was in the upper echelon of the 50-plus I’ve had the distinct pleasure of witnessing. Epic only begins to describe the series of events, which eventually led me to embracing and screaming with a group of students I will probably never see again. It’s Michigan football, and to describe it in any other way would be sacrilege.