We've gone to 3 games or so each year since he could make the whole game, and it wasn't until Appalachian State in 2007 that Mister witnessed his first defeat in person.
And then last year, for the first time since I was in college, I had season tickets for the two of us.
What great timing. Although I will say that the win over Wisconsin was the second-best game I've ever seen in person. So that memory will always be strong as the memory of the rest of the season fades.
And as a bonus, I got to alienate Sis and her boyfriend Dur by getting them to Michigan Stadium for a game.
My sister had mentioned a couple years ago that she'd never been there. Dur hadn't been there in years. So last spring, I asked Sis if she wanted to go to a game with me and Mister. Sure, she said. I'm sure she conjured up images of classic fall days and sunshine or perhaps a cool night under the lights after sundown. I've certainly experienced both with Mister over the years.
So I went through the Alumni Association which came through with four tickets to the Northwestern game. We should get them, and as our last home game and the game before the Ohio State game, it should be fun to see.
That was the theory.
November in Michigan, notwithstanding the whole global warming thing I'm supposed to get my panties in a twist over, was not the template for the classic fall games. Oh, it was still technically autumn, to be sure. But it was not what you think of when you think of football.
Unless you live in Green Bay, perhaps.
On game day, Sis and Dur drove over to Ann Arbor. Normally, we'd have a nice walk in the sun to the stadium from my home. Sis brought a rain poncho. I had them for Mister and me, and one extra for Dur. It was lightly misting at that point. Cold, but as long as you're bundled up, no problem.
My first mistake was forgetting to put on a winter coat over my hooded sweat shirt. Mister didn't want his winter hat since he had a Michigan cap and a hood. Sis and Dur had thought ahead and brought a blanket just in case.
The walk up was just ok. We were getting damp but our spirits were high.
But once in the stadium, it was getting noticeably cold. And the rain was picking up. This spoiled the first glimpse of the stadium bowl when you enter through the entrance tunnels. The stadium is submerged and so outside it doesn't look like much. But when you walk through the tunnel on a bright day, especially on the first game you go to in a season, the impact of the actual size is pretty cool, I think.
We were in the twelfth row I think, at the southern end zone. Which was pretty good for viewing the action on the southern end. Sis and Dur certainly liked the seats we had. Mister and I had seats in the end zone for years until last year. When the action is on your side it really is cool. The Penn State win in 2005 was made all the better for being right there almost at the rail for the last-second play that won that game.
So Mister and I were standing, cheering the team on (everyone in front of us was standing) despite the cold and rain. Sis and Dur were enjoying the game but generally huddled under cover. And we were basically winning through the first half so the weather was a minor factor. Nobody felt like food or refreshments, however, since exposing fingers to hold food or drink was a bad idea. And rain-soaked sausage and bread wasn't appealing either.
We weren't playing all that well, truth be told, despite the lead. And after getting fairly soaked, Mother Nature toyed with us a bit more--after soaking us, the rain turned to snow. Mister was getting cold so I switched gloves with him. He took my adult-sized gloves and I took the old knit kid gloves too small for him that he decided to bring. They were soaked but I put them on anyway. In time the water actually warmed up a bit and the gloves did keep my hands warm. A little bit later, Mister was still cold so I gave him my winter hat and pulled it down over his head. He was still game but noticeably less enthusiastic. I had started noticing the cold, having but a t-shirt, sweatshirt, and poncho, but I was still cheering the time on with full enthusiasm.
Sis and Dur were noticeably quieter, thought still of normal pallor and clearly conscious. So no worries.
Still, as it approached half-time, I began to think that it might be wise to consider leaving earlier than the end of the game. Sis was starting to endure the game more than watch it. And Dur, as he said later, was simply determined not to call for going back to my home before Mister did. He'd endure as long as he had to. Mister was barely in the two-digit range of age and Dur is a Marine veteran of Vietnam. One must maintain pride. So I told Mister quietly that we might have to consider leaving early as a courtesy to his aunt. Mister was horrified at the thought. "No, dad! We have to stay!" We'll see, I said.
We made it to half time but nobody wanted to move to get snacks or anything. Lots of the crowd in front of us weren't as wimpy apparently, and headed up for sustenance to hold them over through the second half. Still, we were prepared to stick it out for a bit longer. I was thinking that the start of the fourth quarter would nicely balance mercy for my sister (a Marine can suck it up, I figured) and my son's desire to stay. I'd found I was barely warm enough by standing with the poncho tightly wrapped around me, so I could go either way.
So when the second half began, imagine my surprise when the wall of people in front of us did not return. They weren't getting hot dogs and--to show their toughness--lemonade! They fled! While we were winning! This wasn't discouragement or anything. This was just running home to warmth and antibiotics!
Mister clearly noticed the lack of a fan wind break. Before long, he was sitting down with his entire head pulled in turtle-like into the warmth of his coat, hood, hat, and poncho pulled down.
I still stood and cheered, as much for warmth as to support our team. Mister was still interested in the game since he would periodically ask me what happened.
Sis and Dur were rather quiet and still. Upright, mind you, but the guilt started to kick in. I've never ever left a game early since I figure the team deserves support even when losing to the bitter end. These are college kids and not professional athletes so I guess I can't abide treating them that way. It seems dishonorable.
But health of those I'm with? Sigh. So I leaned over to Mister and told him, "I think we should go now. I think Aunt Sis is pretty cold."
"OK," he replied. Whoa. OK?
Dur looked over and asked if I was serious.
"Yeah. Let's go."
There was no argument.
So we trudged out, passing some of the stragglers who had retreated to the concession stands to sip hot chocolate and watch the game on TV under cover. Once past that we joined the throng of refugees making our pathetic retreat from the stadium. And while we still led in the game! An outrage!
My poor Sis was wrapped in a blanket and soaking wet, cold to the bone, just putting one foot in front of the other. It felt like this:
(http://www.powellhistory.com/art/Painting/Prianishnikov_Retreat_from_Moscow_1812.jpg)
As warmth returned a bit, I tried to joke. "Hey Sis, maybe next week you and Dur can come up and Mister and I will poke you with sticks!"
"That does sound like fun," she said weakly but gamely.
"Hey," I retorted, "I'm talking sharp pointy sticks, and not dull-tipped things! They'll leave marks!"
Actually, Sis and Dur were good sports about the whole thing, insisting they had fun and were glad they'd come. They even bought the dinner on the way home. I had mercy and sent them off to the pizza place to warm up and wait for the dinner while I walked the rest of the way home and got my car to come get them.
So we dried off, had pizza, salad and bread, and hot chocolate. And chatted and recovered until stadium traffic eased and they could reach the freeway.
I'd still like Sis to experience the thrill of a game on a nice sunny day. I'll try for tickets to a September game for 2009, and hopefully the memory of the whole horrible retreat from Moscow experience will be forgotten by then, and Sis and Dur will trust me for another trip to the Big House. Hopefully, we'll win, too.
