Michigan 13, Ohio State 42: November blues

When you get a new coach, and the hype builds and reacts with the reality of the present situation -- the roster, the schedule, the standard transitional questions of scheme and philosophy-- you get a test tube bubbling with scenarios.

Best case scenarios, worst case scenarios and something in the middle.

Worst case? Michigan was looking at something similar to last year, or maybe a little better: 5-7, 6-6, the Harbaugh effect setting in, but not so much to offset a lack of talent at a number of spots.

Best case? Well, you have just about close to what happened. If not for a once-in-a-generation-style loss against rival Michigan State, the Wolverines would have been 10-1 heading into the Ohio State game, with their destiny in their own hands in terms of a conference title game berth.

Then, there's the vast in between.

When all was said and done, Michigan finished at the upper end of that in between, a 9-3 peppered with impressive blowouts, a pair of close losses (one on the road against a strong Utah team to open the season, the other at home in fairly ridiculous fashion).

Then, there was this past Saturday.

After opening as double-digit underdogs in the summer against the defending national champion Buckeyes, most places had this one even heading into Saturday. Michigan was fresh off a better-than-it-looked win at Penn State, and the Buckeyes were reeling after a listless loss at home against Michigan State.

But the Buckeye team that took the field was not the one that took the field the week before, in spirit and in execution.

The previously disgruntled Ezekel Elliot carried it 30 times for 214 yards and two scores (7.1 yards per carry), and J.T. Barrett only had to pass 15 times (and really, he didn't even have to pass that many times).

Closing a season in which Michigan adeptly hid its deficiencies against the majority of its schedule, it was unable to do so, particularly on the defensive side of the ball, in two of its last three games, when the Hoosiers and Buckeyes tore through the Michigan defense like it wasn't there.

Sure, injuries on the defensive line were an issue, but probably not so much as to send the Wolverines into an abyss of vastly less-effective run defense.

Unfortunately for Jim Harbaugh and Co., they just didn't have enough tricks to take on a refocused Buckeye team, eager to wash away the disappointment of blowing its chance for a Big Ten title game appearance (and thus, likely a chance at another college football playoff berth).

In retrospect, considering Michigan went into the half down just 14-10, the second half is all the more disappointing.

The Buckeyes had their way with the Michigan defense: think the Indiana game, only with more talent, and an actual defense to shut down the Wolverines' surging yet one-dimensional attack (and who would've thought that the effective dimension would be the passing game).

While the initial reaction is surely embarrassment, and a glum resignation, the reality is that Michigan has a long way to go.

The linebackers, who were deemed the weak link of the defense early on, were preyed upon by the Ohio State attack. They looked slow, indecisive, and not up to the task of Urban Meyer's talented, athletic attack, keyed by Elliott and Barrett's skillful running ability.

The good news? Michigan returns players like Bryan Mone on the defensive line next year. The bad? The linebackers are gone, save junior Blake Gedeon. If Michigan's defense is to avoid a reprisal of this performance, some answers will need to be found here, and fast.

Through the air, even Jourdan Lewis didn't have a great day, even though Barrett completed just nine of his 15 passes. But, such is life when facing talents like Michigan State's Aaron Burbridge and Ohio State's Michael Thomas.

Offensively, Michigan's inability to make hay on the ground finally sunk it in a big way. For all of his heroics earlier in the season, De'Veon Smith's (10 carries, 23 yards) lack of any sort of speed (or, more importantly, explosiveness) or ability to consistently hit the right hole continued to be an issue. The fact that Jabrill Peppers led the Wolverines in rushing (7 carries, 29 yards) is not ideal, nor is the fact that fullback Sione Houma was third in carries.

Meanwhile, Ty Isaac has disappeared since his fumble issues, and Derrick Green, as unfortunate as it is, does not seem to be a viable option.

Michigan did well enough in keeping Jake Rudock's jersey clean when he was in the pocket this season; that is, until Joey Bosa et al came to the Big House. On the ground, Michigan will have to hope that another year of seasoning will make this collection of linemen a little bit better in 2016.

But, it won't matter unless the Wolverines can find a tailback that can do the job. And right now, Michigan has a roster of ball carriers who each carry a significant flaw that seemingly prevents them from being a reliable feature back.

Ignoring the obvious vacuum at quarterback post-Rudock -- and Michigan does at least have options there, albeit unproven -- the running back position and the new slate of guys at linebacker will be the biggest question marks heading into next season, discounting the obvious of all-around improving of the skill and athleticism of the skill players on the outside.

In a world of one-game scenarios, it goes without saying that Saturday's blowout falls under the umbrella of worst-case. After a successful season, one would have thought that Michigan had put the days of blowout losses in The Game (e.g. 2008 and 2010) behind it.

Unfortunately, Saturday proved otherwise. If you don't have the players, you don't have the players, and no amount of coaching acumen or schematic chicanery can disguise that fact, particularly when met with the well-oiled machine Meyer has built in Columbus.

So, here we are: 9-3, with three losses to the best opponents on Michigan's schedule. The Wolverines beat who they were "supposed" to beat, and probably a couple others that might not have fallen in that category when the season started.

Overall, the 2015 season will be remembered as the year of transition, a strong first step toward better football and, Michigan fans hope, the beginning of a long and prosperous era on the gridiron in Ann Arbor.

Until those next steps can be taken, though, Michigan is left with the sour taste of Saturday -- of Elliott running through the line, of the Buckeyes not letting up late (which, for the record, I would not expect them to, nor would I necessarily advocate doing if the situations were reversed), of another rival's post-game celebration on the Big House turf.

The Wolverines will get a chance to notch a 10th win, potentially completing just its second double-digit win season since the end of the Lloyd Carr era. That is something worth applauding for now, as Michigan gets back on its feet after wandering aimlessly for the better part of a decade, like someone in a new city with a dead phone and unhelpful townies.

Irrespective of what happens in some prospective bowl game in Florida or California, Michigan successfully eluded the macroscopic reality of its present state for most of the 2015 season.

On Saturday, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Michigan 28, Penn State 16: Greater than its parts

Michigan hadn't won in Happy Valley since 2006. And on Saturday, they headed there again, looking to move to 9-2 on the season.

Even when things don't seem to be going so well, Michigan flexes, you look up and the opponent is done. Like that, disintegrated.

At least watching the game live, it didn't feel like the Wolverines played particularly well. In addition, the officiating was typically poor, with many of the more egregious calls going against the Wolverines (and in this case, it was so frequent as to be beyond partisan interpretations).

Yet, when it came down to it, the Wolverines clocked the Nittany Lions, even if it doesn't show it on the scoreboard.

Through 11 games, it's undeniably true that the coaching staff has squeezed everything out of this collection of players as is humanly possible. More players are seeing the field, improving incrementally as the season trudges forward into the frigid final weeks.

After a big 56-yard run by Saquon Barkley early in the game, visions of Michigan's vulnerability on the ground against Minnesota popped up again. But that would be Penn State's last huge chunk play of the game. Wide receiver Chris Godwin reeled in 38 of his 51 receiving yards on one play, and Jabrill Peppers got lost in coverage on the touchdown underthrow to Saeed Blacknall.

Other than that? Zip, zilch, nada. The clearly frustrated Christian Hackenberg completed just 13-of-31 passes for 137 yards, good for a putrid 4.4 yards per attempt.

Meanwhile, after the big run, the speedy Barkley was held to 12 yards on 14 carries (making for a statistically inferior performance to Michigan's infamous "27 for 27" output against Penn State in 2013...albeit on fewer carries, true).

Michigan hurt itself with a number of pre-snap defensive penalties, and some that are still beyond explanation. Nonetheless, Michigan went on and completed its first undefeated road slate since 1997.

Say what you will about the quality of the Big Ten -- even if you say it's bad, Michigan hasn't gone undefeated on the road in this league for almost two decades.

Michigan's defensive line once again looked dominant, constantly getting in Hackenberg's face. The Wolverines are only marked down for four sacks, but even that seems to underrepresent the level of dominance the line flashed, albeit against a not-so-quality offensive line.

Perhaps most encouragingly, Taco Charlton stepped up and had likely his best game as a Wolverine, leading the defense with a pair of sacks and playing like the athletic, big-time recruit he is. He notched three tackles for loss, and Chris Wormley (2 TFL) and James Ross (2 TFL) found their way into the backfield, too. Other than Jake Rudock's late-season renaissance, the emergence of a different defensive lineman each week has been the most exciting part of the season.

On the other hand, no, it was not Peppers's finest hour. It would do fans well to remember that this is his first full year of college football; mistakes will happen, and coverage skills are still a work in progress.

On the other side, despite throwing 38 times, Michigan only let up two sacks -- let's take a second to remember how things were on the offensive line not too long ago, when poor Devin Gardner never had a chance each time he dropped back to pass. Yes, the running game is an ancillary at best part of the offense, but at least the line is not only holding its own at something, it is excelling.

As for Rudock, two turnovers are the only blemishes on yet another tremendous outing, his third-straight game with 250-plus passing yards. In case you missed it, that makes him the first U-M quarterback in history to pass for that many yards three games in a row.

Not so quietly, Rudock has transformed from liability to net-passable to a real asset. That improvement can in part be attributed to increased familiarity with the offense, but also, of course, to coaching.

This is still far from a big-play offense, but those are starting to trickle through in recent weeks. Rudock completed a 26-yard touchdown pass to Jake Butt, a 26-yarder to Amara Darboh and a 39-yarder to Jehu Chesson. Michigan needed that, as it stumbled to just 2.9 yards per carry on the ground, with the longest run of the day, 20 yards, coming from Chesson.

Comparisons to the 2006 game will be made. Michigan's defense once again overwhelmed a PSU offense in a game that appears closer than it actually was.

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So, here we are.

Michigan is 9-2, outshooting probably at least 95 percent of the fan base's expectations. Unfortunately for the Wolverines, Ohio State did not take care of business yesterday, making Michigan's road to Indianapolis seem more like a dead end than a viable route. Michigan needs help from the same Penn State team it just defeated.

Also, of course, they have to win in the Big House against the Buckeyes. I don't need to tell you that Michigan has only come out on the winning end of The Game once since 2003.

No, the Buckeyes didn't exactly look invulnerable this past Saturday, playing against Michigan State's backup quarterbacks and running an offense that was baffling to partial and impartial observers alike. Who knows what Ezekiel Elliott's postgame comments mean for next Saturday, what state of mind the Buckeyes will be in, what sort of team will be coming into Ann Arbor two days after Thanksgiving.

Michigan might not get a shot at Iowa, even if it wins this Saturday, because of one faulty punt snap in October. In the topsy-turvy world of college football, sometimes that's all it takes to knock you off course.

Even so, it's been a while since Michigan has been playing for something in earnest.

Nonetheless, there's no doubt that Michigan has had a successful campaign. But a product of that success is increased expectations. We all know this, like we know the sky is blue or that when in the red zone, Michigan wins far more often than it loses (on both sides of the ball).

But if Michigan plays Ohio State tight, and loses? Well, for that day, no one will remember 9-2. The 2006 season is remembered for many things: the Notre Dame blowout, the Penn State game, even the too-close-for-comfort Ball State game. Above all that, though, that season is remembered for No. 1 vs. No. 2 -- and, to a lesser extent, the disappointing second half of the Rose Bowl.

Unfortunately, that's the nature of sports and humanity. We only remember the last thing.

The road to Indianapolis might close in East Lansing next Saturday. If it does, Michigan will wait -- Indianapolis will be there next year, and for years to come.

On Saturday, the only thing that matters is the two teams on that field, and what they do on that field. On Saturday, this season's legacy hangs in the balance. Lose, and it's just a nice season with two losses to Michigan's rivals.

Win? That's a season to remember, Indianapolis or not.

First Breath After Coma

I was fourteen years old in 2003. I was a freshman in high school in Huntsville, AL, in the heart of SEC territory after recently been moved from the suburbs of Chicago. It was a foreign land, a strange land, where my raiment stuck out like a southern drawl in the heart of New York City; absurdly, a forced Latin phrase in an otherwise ordinary sentence. I remember talking to a friend about college football on my first day of school, and he was adamant that this was Auburn’s year. Auburn had gone 9-4 the season before with a bowl victory against Penn State. I had no idea what Auburn was, though, truly. I remember thinking, like Michael Bluth: Auburn? Her? Auburn stumbled to an 8-5 record that year before going undefeated in 2004. Michigan won back-to-back conference titles in those two first years in that new land, and I didn’t realize that that was to be the end of everything that was good. I couldn’t have known.

Michigan had always been good, and at the very least they had always been decidedly Michigan. When they lost, they lost in September, then once but usually twice to generally overmatched Big Ten foes. The offenses were plodding even when Michigan was at the top of the college football world, and the defenses were stout so long as the opposing quarterback didn’t have blocks of granite for legs. If anything, Michigan was consistent. It was always frustrating but it was always the same and so you could never be truly surprised when Michigan lost on the road out west or lost in South Bend or lost to some Big Ten foe that had no business being on the same field. Jim Tressel showed up and everything changed; consistency no longer meant what it once did.


In 2001, Michigan fielded an okay squad that included a wholly unready John Navarre and lost at home to a decidedly mediocre Buckeye squad. In 2002, Michigan gave the eventual national champions a tight game before eventually bowing out in the final minutes. In 2003 we got redemption, and in 2004 we had a chance to continue that on the backs of an incredible freshman seasons from Chad Henne and Mike Hart. It didn’t happen but the future was bright. Then 2005 slipped away. Then Bo died, and Michigan was on the losing end of the Game of the Century. Then I was a freshman at Michigan, and I watched those aforementioned freshmen—now seniors---end their final years with a whimper, as Ohio State and Beanie Wells ground the Wolverines into dust en route to a victory that was never really close despite its appearances. I traveled to Columbus for the first time the next year to watch Michigan intercept Terrelle Pryor on their first drive, then proceed to implode, go ceaselessly backward, and miss a field goal. Despite the close first half, I knew it was over right then and there. Tate Forcier came onto the scene and Michigan hoped to secure a bowl bid after missing out after the disastrous 2008 campaign. It was the height of masochism; 60 minutes and five turnovers later and Michigan had lost again. It was 2007 all over again. Then last year happened. Rich Rodriguez was a lame duck, Denard got hurt and Michigan floundered like a ship without a rudder, not that a rudder would have assured safe passage through the house of horror that was Ohio Stadium.

Now we are here. I’ve reached the point where I can type the last paragraph and look at it and say that’s what happened. I am at peace as much as any man can be at peace. And yet, it has been like life as a dog with an abusive owner, cowering in fear upon his arrival, a conditioned response to a physical actuality. Michigan has been beaten and beaten and beaten, and it is not so much okay as it is a statement of reality. I see Scarlet and Gray clad people in New York, in Alabama, in the airport in Detroit, and I can do nothing but extricate myself from the circumstances, to physically move myself as if a computerized thumb and forefinger picked me up from the sky and dropped me somewhere else, anywhere else. It’s conditioned and pathetic and wanting of something.

Michigan is 9-2 and Ohio State has been gutted of everything it once held so dearly. Its beloved coach, its star quarterback, its patina of Midwestern invincibility have all been extirpated, and yet their premises still exist, as much as seven wins in a row can be categorized as mere premises and not unadulterated salting of the earth. Ohio State now has their own lame duck, and in a week full of unequivocal hate, spleen, and obdurate dismissal of the other’s raison d’etre, I find myself sort of feeling some sort of distant cousin of empathy for Luke Fickell, who just wants to coach a game, and not just a game but The Game. Then I remember why I shouldn’t feel so kind; the body of history is enough. It sits there like a reminder, an old man whistling, rocking away on his front porch laughing at you as you drag back into town, saying "I knew you’d fall back into these small town parts again." I knew you’d fail because that’s who you are and what you do. He laughs and laughs.


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I’ve been told many times, back when I still played sports competitively, that you have to imagine what winning is like before you actually go out and make it happen. It seems quixotic, detached from reality, and maybe that itself is a cynical thing to say. Then again, if you are no longer cynical then you are a better person than I.

I imagined what it would be like in 2004, and 2005, and then in 2006 when it seemed like the world was precariously balanced on the shoulder of Chad Henne and the brunt force of each hit from LaMarr Woodley, Alan Branch, and David Harris would be enough to shake the world into a dimension where Michigan won and every Ohio State week thereafter wouldn’t exclusively remind me of the fact that Bo had died and I remembered where I was when I heard it and how I felt and the deep-seated uneasiness that no matter what happened things would be off in that way that you wake up on certain days and know that it won’t be your day. No faculties of imagination could have done a thing that day. Of course, it is absurd to say that my imagination of victory has any bearing on the outcome, but if my imagination hold a certain weight of verisimilitude than one can only imagine what things would be floating around the player’s head. Each imagined outcome, it’s path to an end—an interception, a fumble pounced upon as if it was not a tangible thing but an embodiment of Fate, the looks on the faces of the enemy when they sensed the exact moment that the battle had been lost and retreat was an inevitability—bouncing gloriously and unseen, an opportunity caged and waited to be executed with passion and aggression and faith in the rightness of their doing. I imagined in 2007 too, and 2008 and 2009 and even 2010; wouldn’t it be great if we were the spoiler, the one to ruin another’s machinations? It wasn’t to be.

If 2011 has taught me anything, it’s that no dream is too far away, no imagined happening too far-fetched as long as you can dream it and mold it into an actionable concept. Who could have thought that the defense would turn into what it has seemingly overnight, as if Greg Mattison came on and fashioned an organized, quality unit out of thin air, a Mack truck of a defense from the dilapidated spare parts of a Prius. Who could’ve thought that Brady Hoke could have convinced so many to come to Michigan in spite of the pall of malaise seeping into every crevice and previously unoccupied corner of Ann Arbor like a malignant fog. Who would’ve thought that freshmen, walk-ons, and receivers that haven’t grown since before they were allowed to drive could come together and say to the world: this is what we are and that is more than enough.

Who would’ve thought? It came from somewhere.

Denard Robinson steps up and throws. He does not throw off of his back foot and the throw leaps powerfully from his arm, spiraling through the air as if it wishes to tunnel into the very heart of the last seven years and vanquish it.

Junior Hemingway remembers being hurt, remembers that this is the last time. He straps his gloves on and looks at his legs and understands that he will soar higher than anyone else on the field, that this, even if this isn’t true he will make it true on this day.

Martavious Odoms will remember that he is small, forget it, and play like he is the biggest player on the field out of spite. He will block without concern, without lamentations of time lost and an uncertain future and he will proceed like a British fellow building a bridge in a strange place, illogically and so in line with convention that it is extraordinary in its execution.

Mike Martin will remember what it was like to be a freshman. He will remember how he thought he was strong once; that, then, was nothing.

Darryl Stonum will watch, pining for redemption, needing it, helplessly but undeniably with a purpose. His time will come again.

David Molk will grimace with disdain and secretly, somewhere within him where things like joy resides in some underdeveloped shanty town, smile at the concept of a job well done, of a purpose and an action and an end and the trickle down effect of all these things. He will move like a chess piece; deliberately and calmly, with a quickness and precision that gives the opponent but a split second before realizing: oh.

Ryan Van Bergen will wonder where they all were until he realizes that they were always there, all around him. The people that mattered.

Brady Hoke will nod, stoic in his understanding. He doesn’t know more than you, he just knows the right things. Worry is obviated by the historical body of necessity. This is how things were meant to be, and so shall they be.

Defeat upon defeat accrues and congeals into a ghastly knowledge of a stark reality, a bitter medicine resting upon the tongue and in the throat waiting to be swallowed--a simple truth. It is the kind that sits within like a cancerous lump that can either be left or excised...your choice.

 It’s time to start anew. I’ll watch. It will be like breathing for the first time. I’ll wake up from it all and know that I was sleeping. I’ll look around and everything will be brand new.

2,815 Days

It's been a long, long time since we've beaten that team down south. 2,815 days, to be exact. A lot has happened since then, then being the last time we managed to beat them. I was 14 years-old, essentially a third of my life ago. Times were much simpler. Losing two in a row was a cause for concern back then. Everything was straightforward and decidedly more comfortable, even in defeat. Michigan was usually going to have a good--but not great--season, and beating Ohio State was, for quite some time, a near birthright. Then things changed. Jim Tressel came along, and somewhere along the line Lloyd had lost a certain something; his raison d'etre had been compromised.

It's hard to tell when these types of things really begin and end. The Roman Empire fell in 476 AD, and most people will tell you this if you ask. Of course, that empire did not just collapse at one moment like a physical manifestation of the past perfect tense, like a sand castle crumbling feebly under the ocean's mindless will. It was gradual, slow, and excruciating. Deep down, they knew it was coming, and when it finally did they had become numb to all external stimuli that didn't flatly tell them this is going down. 

Next year became next year became please just make it respectable.

The "days since" doesn't mean a thing anymore. It honestly hurt more when we had lost three, four in a row. The "scUM" comments and general insanity of the Buckeye fanbase (re: Kyle Kalis) exist now as they did then in equal measure, like one derpy scientific constant; they've become a part of the normalized perception of them, and as a result they mean nothing. The pain receptors of a sports fan can only take so much; after a while, you're only flooding the synapses with wasted refuse, drowning neurotransmitters speaking Mandarin Chinese to a receptor that only understands Old English. Michigan fandom between 2004 and now, vis a vis Ohio State, has been like one long, extended third degree burn; a pain so great that our nerve endings have been burnt off, leaving the pain unfelt, although we know its there. Things are bubbling up again now, a fresh start has excited us once again. Still, I can't help but imagine the innumerable peasant revolts throughout history that began with such lofty goals and were relentlessly quelled without any hoopla or lasting historical imprint. The again, it's better than the alternative. Every once in a while things work out, and I think our chances are a little bit better.

The worst part of all of this is not even the fact that Michigan has lost so many times in a row, it's that Ohio State has become the undeniable definition of success in the Big Ten throughout the last decade, and that we have come to measure ourselves against them. Lesser programs than ours have beaten Ohio State since 2003. They can be beaten, especially now. The question is, when? An entire era of Michigan football passed without answering that question. Rich Rodriguez nominally close for a half in 2008, approaching closeness if not for wholesale self-destruction in 2009, and quite frankly, never close at all in 2010.

This offseason has intensified my distaste for Ohio State in a way that I previously thought was not possible. I thought my hatred had plateaued long ago, that I had maxed out my hating potential and that it would probably begin to decline ever so slightly once Michigan got that elusive next win. I was so wrong. I hate Notre Dame with the intensity of a thousand suns, and the Spartans and their Sith Lord of a head coach are slowly starting to gain traction on my hatred power rankings. Yet, all I can think about is Ohio State. Every offseason, I painstakingly count down the days to kickoff. No matter how good or bad Michigan was expected to be in a given season, the chance to watch Michigan play was sacred and inviolable. Despite all the Hoke-speak about taking it one game at a time, I can't do that. I would honestly fast forward through the entire season like I would the offseason if it would take me to just before high noon on the 26th of November. This sounds like desperation, and maybe it is, but if I could isolate and distill the endocrinal secretions that come about from my thinking about Ohio State in early August, you'd have a thriving black market for a on-FDA approved energy drink. This burgeoning hatred must be what MSU fans want us to think about them (i.e., that that rivalry has been rekindled, that we hate them), only I don't feel that about Michigan State and probably still won't even if we lose to them this year. That type of hatred is reserved for one team; there can only be one.

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The number itself, 2,815, is surprisingly meaningless. It is, however, beyond absurd when you write it down or say it aloud. I'm still getting over the fact that Denard racked up 502 total yards against Notre Dame last season. The numbers don't mean anything, in and of themselves; they're just markers of failure and success, of triumph and defeat. When Michigan finally wins The Game again, that number will be twisted about, and we will begin flinging the days back at Columbus like rotten fruit, in bushels of 365 at a time. And while that may sound absurd, the fact of not having beaten our most hated foe in that many days is perhaps even more so.

The consoling part of hitting rock bottom is that everyone tells you the only place to go is up. Sometimes, though, you just stay down.

And that is what concerns me the most. Losing again would hurt, and it'd put me in a funk for the next week or so like it always does. But, after all, what's the difference between 7 and 8 really? In the end, it won't amount to much. I just want to beat them again, if only to know that we still can. To beat them once, now, is to beat them a thousand times, and it goes without saying that it would infuse the Michigan program with a vitality that Coach Rod's lacked at all times except  perhaps September of 2009 and 2010. Only 110 days remain until we find out if we still can. This isn't the time for real predictions, but I think we can. At the very least, we'll have our best chance in a long time, and a chance is more than we've had in many of the last several contests against the Buckeyes.