It involved University of Michigan football of course, being that we're in the late summer. And being that U-M football has been a part of the last 41 autumns of my life. So I was going to a Michigan game. But it wasn't just any Michigan game.
For one, it was the single hottest Michigan game I can remember, ever. And I'm enough of a geezer to remember the 1983 home opener against Washington State, where the aisles between sections became as busy as the hallways of an emergency health care clinic, with paramedics carrying heat exhaustion victims up and out, one after another. Today the mercury approached 100 degrees and the fiery maize ball sat alone in a deep blue sky.
My friend called and had me on the invite list for a radio station's pregame party. An endless buffet of wings, rib sandwiches, you name it. All on the house. Open bar, too. It is a dream, right? Then, armed with sunblock, we headed off to the stadium in time for all the pregame traditions. "Band, take the field!" Fanfare. The thing where the drum major bends backward and touches the ground with his hat. The M Club banner. Brady Hoke's first run through the tunnel as coach. And finally, game.
Western Michigan was the opponent as I recall. They had this quarterback, I think his name was Carder, who led them down the field with relative ease. Suddenly, quickly, Michigan trailed by seven. Then--and this is how I know it's a dream--Denard Robinson was ineffective. He ended up with just 46 yards rushing and less than 100 yards through the air.
This can't be happening, I thought. Not on a day like this. The thought had yet to settle in my slumbering brain when, at the Wolverine five yard line with the score tied at seven, Carder was hit as he threw the ball and his fluttery pass was snared by Brandon Herron. The senior linebacker ran through several WMU players and a number of missed blocks on his way to an inexplicable school-record 94-yard interception return.
And like that, the game turned. Everything seemed to turn on that play in fact, as clouds began to fill the sky. Still warm, still sunny. For the most part. But the air was getting thicker for all of us, particularly those wearing the gold and brown. Western could only manage a field goal the rest of the half as Michigan held a 20-10 lead at intermission. By now the wind had picked up, and clouds moved at a Denard-like pace over the rapidly darkening Big House.
The second half began and no sooner did the Wolverines receive the kick when the skies opened. A sudden storm whipped through the bowl, shooting rain sideways and sending crashes of thunder throughout the area. Referees ran onto the field and, for the second time in Michigan Stadium history, stopped the game due to weather delay. The teams scurried into the tunnel as 110,000 fans ducked into the 60 tunnels that surround it. Yet even as they left, even as sheets of rain continued to pelt the field, the skies above were blue. Players covered their eyes from the sun as they left the newly brightened green field turf.
Details are a bit fuzzy but I swear, it felt so real. I remember huddling next to a rail under the south end zone stands, watching fans escape the downpour, young and old, male and female, as soaking wet as if they were running ashore. After a half hour, the rain stopped and the game was back on. Three quarters of the crowd decided to stick it out and returned to their seats, drenched yet eager to see what will transpire down below.
Michigan took control when play resumed. Carder dropped back to pass and was met full-on by Jordan Kovacs. He never saw the blitzing Wolverine safety and lost the ball upon impact. From the left side of the line burst who else but Brandon Herron, who picked up the gift in stride and ran a dreamy 28 yards into the end zone. No Wolverine has ever scored on both a fumble and an interception return in the same game. Were I not experiencing this moment in the midst of REM sleep, he would have ran his way into the Michigan football record book on this day.
Then, after Denard rose from the dead and scrambled for a hard-earned first down, Michael Shaw took a handoff at the WMU 44 and hit the goal line in a dead sprint, untouched. 34-10 Blue. Seemingly back to normal. Until the kickoff. A deep purple wall formed in the skies over the northwest end. This is where it gets really sketchy.
Fitzgerald Toussaint took a handoff from Robinson and the entire field became awash in heavy sheets of water. A brilliant flash of lightning blew up just above the north end zone. A thunderous boom pounded into our chests an instant later. An eclipse of darkness engulfed the field as players disappeared. 70,000 fans disappeared in a matter of minutes. We huddled inside the M Den as a sales associate hung up her phone and informed us that a severe thunderstorm with 70mph winds was minutes away. We extended our welcome with strategically planned merchandise purchases but were ultimately told to evacuate the tiny blue trailer.
One more look into the section 15 tunnel. The stadium was dark and empty, ordered evacuated for the first time ever. The new lighting system illuminated the field, giving me what would be my only glimpse of what prime time would look like inside the stadium, as I would be at my brother's wedding in Minnesota the following week and not able to attend the historic Notre Dame night game. I remember the only other light coming from the new scoreboards at each end, displaying satellite images of the angry red and yellow circles that swept one by one, directly over Ann Arbor. All other neighboring areas were clear. My friends were boating in sunny Pinckney, stunned to hear that it was even raining at the stadium.
Guards escorted us back through the tunnel. Then we were running, running through the violent storm. Lightning crashed to either side of us, each blast closer than the one before. Still we ran, for miles it seemed, until we reached our car. They said they cancelled the rest of the game. Yeah right.
We made it to a local sports bar and grill when the winds hit with full force. The lights of the parking structure cut out. We dodged cans, signs and trash cans to get to the door of the establishment. The Tiger game was on one of the satellite TVs, they were down by two runs to Chicago in the ninth inning with one out when lightning struck the building, knocking out power. A couple fought through class-one hurricane winds to enter the building. He wiped his wet face and headed to the bar. A fierce gust of wind pushed the door closed and pinned his wife at the waist. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her through the threshold.
Back at the table, a woman sitting next to us hung up her phone. Her husband just told her the Tigers won. Weren't they down 8-1? The dishes re-callibrated and screens alternated between images of empty Michigan Stadium and empty Notre Dame Stadium. The Irish were losing to South Florida 16-0. I know right? South Florida!
I awoke with a shudder and sat bolt upright in my bed. What just happened? Where am I? And why am I soaking wet? Enough with these crazy dreams already. When for the love of God will the football season start?
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