Go Blue! I'm done supporting you
My most drastic change to eliminate distractions.
Eleven years ago when Michigan played Alabama, I had two tickets to the game.
It was Labor Day weekend 2012, and I was still married to Parker’s mother.
Kickoff for that year’s Cowboys Classic inside AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas, was a few weeks away when we returned to the States from vacationing in Cancun. Upon landing, we powered on our cell phones and got flooded by messages from the world we’d left. My ex-wife’s phone chimed more than mine. Her grandfather had passed.
There we were, two years into our marriage, sitting on a tarmac fresh off a trip to paradise, and tragedy struck. My heart hurt for her and the rest of her family. I consoled her as best I could. But before we retrieved our overhead bags, my thoughts went to the Michigan-Alabama game. With my hand clasping hers, my mind drifted to how the funeral probably would be scheduled on the Saturday of the game.
I never confessed those feelings. But I still carry the shame. That moment marked my low point as a die-hard Michigan fan.
It would have been my first time seeing the Wolverines live. And we had great seats. For a marquee matchup. On the opening weekend of the college football season.
But the funeral did coincide with the game. I never made a fuss about it. I quietly sold the tickets. I even made a small profit. The gain, however, soothed my disappointment only so much. I wanted to be in the building.
Then ‘Bama quickly made me glad I wasn’t among the announced 90,413 in attendance.
The Crimson Tide ran up a 21-0 lead in the first quarter. They bumped the margin to 31-0 in the second quarter before taking a 31-7 lead into halftime. I watched in horror from an Illinois sports bar after fulfilling my supportive duties.
The senseless seesaw of emotions, which ended in embarrassing fashion with a 41-14 defeat, encapsulates my existence as a Michigan fan.
It’s a love fest that started in the early 1990s with the Fab Five, the five basketball players who became cultural phenoms after being the first set of freshmen to start in an NCAA men’s basketball championship game. Chris Webber, Juwan Howard, Jalen Rose, Jimmy King and Ray Jackson also are all Black, role models who gave a little Black boy a reason to dream.
Like millions of others growing up in that era, I wanted to be just like them. Baggy shorts. Black shoes. Black socks. Unapologetic swag.
I didn’t just want to go to college at Michigan because of them. They made me dream of playing basketball for the Wolverines. I never came close to having the talent, grades or money required to attend that university. But that never stopped me from dreaming. In my mind, the public address announcer would save me for last in the starting lineup introduction.
“At guard. No. 10. Darnell “Money” Mayberry!!!!”
Unlike many Michigan men and women, my loyalties actually went to both the football and basketball teams. A part of me still gets excited for a split second whenever I bump into Moritz and Franz Wagner, Caris LeVert, Duncan Robinson, Jordan Poole, Trey Burke or Tim Hardaway Jr. in the hallway at work.
I rode my Wolverines to back-to-back NCAA tournament player pick ‘em pool wins. Mitch McGary will always be my guy for his sensational 2013 tournament run.
Over the years, my wardrobe became filled with Michigan apparel. Hats. T-shirts. Hoodies. It even trickled down to Parker’s attire. People often confused me with being from the state, right after asking if I went to school at Michigan.
Two years ago at my favorite Denver, Colo., burger joint, The Cherry Cricket, an older couple walked in and, as is often the case, said, “Go Blue” upon seeing my Michigan hoodie. Instinctively, I said it back. Later, after walking by their booth on my way back from the restroom, the woman stopped me to ask if I’m a Michigan alum. I told her I wasn’t but have been a longtime fan.
“Oh, well, that’s just as good,” she said as if consoling me.
Basically, she summoned me to size me up as a Walmart Wolverine.
As much time and money as I’ve spent on Michigan games, tickets and merchandise, the school might as well give me an honorary degree.
But I’m done. I no longer can bleed maize and blue in good conscience. I’ve given up my allegiance. I checked out on Michigan.
For the first time in probably 20 years, I didn’t watch any Michigan football games this season. I caught the final three minutes against Ohio State, turning my head briefly from the whupping I was giving my Uncle C.J. on the domino table at my mother’s house over Thanksgiving weekend.
Sorry, not sorry, Bucknuts. Forget the past 20 years. In my world, I got the last laugh.
I’ve kicked my college football craze. Life is more complete without it.
I’d spend all day and night in front of the television on Saturdays during college football season. Then I’d do it again Sunday when the NFL season overlapped. And typically, I’d make Monday Night Football a priority too.
Poor habits predictably accompanied my choices. Not being present with Parker was the main problem, but there were others. Being a couch potato. Binge-eating. Binge-drinking. Whenever my Wolverines played poorly, I’d power on my PlayStation, spending however many hours I needed simulating championships to numb my pain.
All of this for a game, one I didn’t play beyond Little League and that does nothing to benefit my family.
I’ve taken back my time and turned my attention to financial literacy. I’ve filled those hours reading, writing, learning new skills, improving my fitness and being present with and for Parker and my family.
First I needed to reduce distractions. For the past three decades, Michigan football has been among my biggest. So I’m out.
I wish the Wolverines well. I hope they beat ‘Bama in the Rose Bowl and go on to capture their first championship since 1997.
I might even watch.
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