Author's note: Some details of this story have been omitted to protect the privacy of those involved.
Sport is a poor substitute for people.
Our favorite athletes and teams simply cannot offer the same kind of emotional attachment and support that our friends and family can. Don Vito Corleone would look down on any man who didn't put family first, and that's a sentiment I share.
Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself a little bit. There's a story behind these feelings. There's also a reason why I'm writing about it now, the day before the annual football contest between Michigan State and Michigan.
Last football season, I had the distinct pleasure of playing baritone in the Michigan State University Spartan Marching Band. I'd given serious thought to joining the finest collegiate marching band in the nation before, but I didn't make the leap until my fourth year in college.
The SMB is rich in both quality and tradition. The band grew out of the military ensemble tradition in the late 1800s and considers it a point of pride to uphold the disciplined nature of those early ensembles. There is a very strict uniform protocol and members are held to a tight code of conduct, as well.
There is also no thrill quite like kick-stepping out of the tunnel in front of 70,000 screaming fans, or marching The Series into the stadium itself. It's great to be such an integral part of the game-day tradition. But my story is not about the Spartan Marching band, though it does play a crucial role.
Fast-forward to October, 2007. The SMB schedule included a trip to Ohio State, followed by a rare weekend off as the team traveled to Iowa, and then the most anticipated game of the whole season—at home against Michigan.
Michigan Week 2007 is when everything went wrong.
After a nice, relaxing weekend without any marching obligations, I returned to classes on Monday looking forward to the rivalry game against Michigan. Sparty Watch
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