There's nothing quite like a car ride from Milwaukee to Ann Arbor, Mich. The picturesque scenery of Gary, Ind., bumper-to-bumper traffic on Interstate 80, and an abundance of Illinois tollways are enough to make watching the ""Golden Girls"" marathon seem like a good time.
Yet, just as UW battles in the trenches, the fans conquer their own obstacles. They fight the rain, the highway construction the indigestion from that huge breakfast platter eaten at the IHOP in Kalamazoo.
Road trips separate the true fans from the bandwagon jumpers. They build patience and perseverance. They teach us lessons about who we are as fans and where we have been willing to go with our team.
After approximately eight hours of driving, my dad and I arrived in Ann Arbor. Tired from the long journey, we walked down to the hotel bar, ironically named The State Street Bar and Grill. The bar contained no more than 30 patrons, but Badger fans clearly out-numbered the Michigan faithful. Or maybe the folks in red just talked a lot louder.
One energetic and inebriated fan, who looked to be in his late 50s, found a home in front of the juke box. After selecting a groovy tune by the Bee Gees, he shouted to a table of Badger fans.
""Hey, remember this one?""
Undeterred by the group's silence, he started his own one-man disco dance party which continued until the conclusion of Madonna's ""Material Girl.""
Across from the disco king, a group of Badger fans discussed their seat locations for Saturday's game. In order to justify his primo location at the Big House, a large, rotund man with white mustache bellowed, ""Yes, but remember, I was there through Morton.""
""Morton,"" never was a name uttered with such anger, such hatred, and for good reason. Don Morton, the UW head football coach from 1987-89, had a defense as intimidating as the Pillsbury doughboy, and an offense as potent as Bob Dole without Viagra. In three seasons, Morton won three Big Ten games. In three contests against Michigan, the Wolverines outscored the Badgers 135-14. UW lost by double-digit margins in 18 out of the 33 games that Morton coached.
Hoping Bret Bielema's team would not play ""Morton-esque"" the next day, my dad and I finished our drinks, and walked back to the room leaving our new Badger buddies behind.
Yet on gameday while riding the bus to Michigan Stadium, I had the great privilege of talking with the very same disco king I had met the night before.
""I've got a good feeling about this one. I feel exactly like I did before the Auburn game,"" he said.
At this point I thought, ""Liquor—now a part of this complete breakfast.""
Once inside the Big House I stood with the other Badger students on my left. My dad, meanwhile, sat on my right surrounded by people with more wisdom and grey hair.
Although this seating arrangement seemed ideal, I discovered that the student on my left cared more about firing up the ""old people"" than supporting the Badgers.
He began with the usual ""stand up old people"" chant, but soon started calling out individuals.
""Hey, you in the green shirt, green shirt, yeah you, get excited, stand up, get excited!""
In the second quarter alone I counted 27 different ""stand up"" ""get excited"" combinations directed at ""gold chain guy,"" ""buddy"" ""you in the hat"" and ""red suspenders.""
I admit that I have partaken in the ""stand up old people"" chant. I have often questioned the enthusiasm of the crowd in sections A-I and Q-X. Yet, I could not chant on that day, not with ""Morton"" and the history of Badger football on my mind.
Consider this: In the past 13 years, UW has had two losing seasons. From 1964-1992, they had six winning seasons.
How many of today's students would have stuck around through the winless seasons of '67 and '68. Who among the ""road warriors"" in Ann Arbor could have endured four consecutive four-win years in the 1970s?
So next time you're tempted to yell at the ""old people,"" stop and think. Haven't they earned the right to sit during a game, to be unrealistically optimistic, to have their own disco dance party in a hotel bar?
I sat down next to my dad during the middle of the fourth quarter, but I don't think I should have. After all, I didn't sit through the Morton years.
