Storyline: A football game was played Saturday in Ann Arbor. But a much more important game was played in the stands.
I’m from Michigan State. On Saturday I went to Ann Arbor to watch a football game. But the real game in town wasn’t football. Football was just an occasion for gathering.
Handmade sign outside The Big House: “Welcome to Bye Week.”
Meme about the schools: What’s easier than Ohio State’s football schedule? Graduating from Michigan State.
On Saturday I was a stranger in a very strange land. Yeah, it was a football game, but this experience was really about paying honor, homage, and tribute to
M-i-c-h-i-g-a-n.
The game. The place. The event. It was about The University of Michigan. The self-proclaimed “Leaders and Best!”
Translation: We’re wonderful. We’re unsurpassed. We’re beyond belief.
And you’re NOT.
On Saturday, the other team on the field didn’t exist. The score at one point was Michigan 10, 7.
The video screen blared it, over and over and over again: HOW WONDERFUL IS MICHIGAN!!!
I’ve attended plenty of games in plenty of places, including iconic spots, such as the University of Notre Dame. But I’ve never, ever experienced anything like this. Not even close.
Maybe I missed it.
What year did Jesus graduate from UM?
What was Plato’s major? (I think it was physics, actually.)
Wasn’t Confucius Michigan’s first international graduate student?
Forget that I’m with MSU. It doesn’t matter, really. This story isn’t about being a pissed-off rival. And it’s not about how MSU prevailed at the end. That was great. But I came away from Ann Arbor with a more important story in mind.
That story is about how foolish it is to devote THAT much attention to believing any school–your school–is best. That’s what the lunacy of collegiate tribalism is really about.
There’s a name for it, too: it’s called Exceptionalism.
Exception means beyond ordinary. It means something is special. Special can’t be distributed widely; otherwise it won’t be special. And with special, the object possesses IT. Most don’t have “it”—or at least much of it–because oversupply, you know, makes for ordinary.
God forbid, we can’t have ordinary!
And there’s an important feature, what I call “the psychodynamics of Exceptionalism.” If something with which you’re affiliated has IT, then, by association, YOU have IT. You’re Exceptional, too … as in THE Ohio State University (not the other OSU, you know, “the” one).
With Exceptionalism we’re seduced by our own sense of special-ness, of being remarkable — of being Extra-ordinary. Facts? Unnecessary. We say we’re great, over and over again, so it MUST be true.
Remember the refrain, WE ARE PENN STATE? (Well, so much for that one….)
But the disease extends well beyond Happy Valley or Ann Arbor. It’s just about everywhere. That’s true because we, as collegiate fans and supporters, relish the image of being better, of winning, of being whatever.
We prefer it to be true. We want it to be true. It’s a critical element in elevating our self-image, our sense of self, and our social value–especially when others (such as those at Michigan) tell us–over and over again–that we’re no good, inferior.
A number of bad things come with “It”: Arrogance. Elitism. Prickish-ness. And, very importantly, separation. That involves viewing ourselves as better than, and having more of–which means others are less than & have less of.
Ann Arbor is a ripe case in point. Years of football mediocrity has built up an incredibly large volume of “I can’t wait for us to get on top again so that I can tell the world just how great we are (I am)!
Jim Harbaugh mania has unleashed a craziness that I’ve not seen in over 50 years of following college football. The fact that he has manifestations of being a savant just adds more logs to an already raging fire. Every time he’s photographed shirtless or says something vague and undecipherable–things that bring stares and quizzical looks–so much the better. He’s mystical, after all. He’s different.
Translation: He’s a GENIUS! AND he’s ours.
And here’s the thing: reasonable people can (and often do) point out fantasy when it applies to other schools. I’m doing that right now. But we have one devil of a time seeing that we suffer from the same malady. That’s why I can’t write this article as a slam against Michigan only. Michigan is but a case among cases.
But let’s remember something quite basic: Football is a game. So is basketball. Winning doesn’t make our schools “wonderful.” Games aren’t–or shouldn’t be–important events in the scheme of life. And winning certainly doesn’t make us better as people.
It just means we won a game. Perhaps we’ll win a championship, too.
But, even if we do—just like clockwork—the madness will start anew.