Below The Beltway

I had thought that anything I might be posting at this point, a little more than eighteen hours before the start of The Big Game, would be all in fun. A few Michigan jokes here and there maybe, courtesy of contacts in Ohio, of course. And, most of all, anticipation for what will clearly be the biggest regular season college football game in a long, long time.

After all, as Michael Wilbon points out, the fact that the two best teams in the country are facing each other now is an argument, at the very least, an argument against the way the BCS ranks teams (Wilbon favors a college football playoff system. I do not.)

And, hey, with the possible exception of the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry, we are talking about the greatest sports rivalry out there.

Then, Bo Schembechler died, and tomorrow’s game seems to take on an entirely different meaning.

Consider this report of the arrival of the Wolverines in Columbus this afternoon:

Around 4:45 p.m. ET, however, only the sirens of motorcades could be heard as a cavalcade of buses pulled up to the southwest corner of Ohio Stadium. As a horde of fans and reporters stood behind a barricade, Michigan’s coaches, players and staff members — nearly all of them wearing the same, blue windbreakers and sweatpants — trudged off the buses in somber silence and quickly headed inside the stadium for a walkthrough. Some Ohio State fans took pictures, but there was almost none of the usual taunting. They seemed to understand this was not exactly a light-hearted moment.

Or, this from Sports Illustrated:

What you’ll see, I’m guessing, is a more somber tone: perhaps even the awkward extending of condolences, which could lead to remembrances about the days when the giants strode the earth, when the winner of this game went to the Rose Bowl and the loser packed it in. Tailgates morphed into impromptu wakes.

Which is another way of saying that the fans may catch up with the players. I was in Columbus Monday, the only day Ohio State made players available for media interviews. Some reporters were clearly working the hatred angle, asking the Buckeyes to put into words, if possible, the depth of their loathing for Michigan. To my silent satisfaction the guys weren’t going there.

Asked if he hated Michigan as a kid, Troy Smith replied, with a smile, “I don’t hate anybody. I don’t hate anything. I think hate is too strong of a word. I might dislike somebody’s ways, but I don’t hate anybody.”

Surely a human wrecking-ball like Quinn Pitcock, the Buckeyes sensational defensive tackle and a native of Piqua, Ohio, could be counted on to spew some bile. How about it, Quinn?

“Someone please tell me when all this started,” said Pitcock. “There’s no true hate. I’ve been up there. I go on riding trips and stuff like that.”

Hopefully, we’ll see more examples of that tomorrow than the rants of the frat boys drunk fans on High Street Lane Avenue.

Previous Posts:

Ohio State vs. Michigan: The Ten Best
Bo Schembechler Dies