War is not football, and football is not war, but having done both, they sometimes look like one another.

I was absolutely not going to write something after this game. It just seemed uncouth, like piling on someone who can’t defend themselves. Then their running back flexed in the endzone down 45 points, and then I saw 4th and Goal at the doorstep.

The Korean War was a brutal, savage, and ultimately wasteful affair. A bloody and frozen seesaw that in the end resulted in more or less the pre-war status quo. In the war’s first weeks, American arrogance combined with a shameful lack of preparation and will combined to a humiliating defeat and pushing the American and South Korean forces almost into the sea. Years later, as the war drew to its slow, foregone conclusion; Chinese PLA forces would attack United Nations positions in what was to become the new Demilitarized Zone, sending their soldiers to die, merely test the will of the Americans and their Allies.

Pork Chop Hill

Pork Chop Hill was one of these outposts. Far from the negotiating table, and far from any tangible impact on the war, it sat in a strip of other hills. After the Chinese PLA pushed some Columbian UN infantry from a neighboring hill, Pork Chop Hill fell in succession. The US commander sent two companies of infantry back up the hill to retake and hold it against counter attack. First Lieutenant Joseph Clemons, a semi veteran at 25, led several hundred tired and relatively inexperienced men back up the hill, and retook it, losing almost half of them in the process. Clemons (along with his brother-in-law who was leading another company on Pork Chop), held off wave after human wave of Chinese counter attack. The US refused to reinforce the hill with more men, and Clemons, down to merely a handful of survivors, held for two days against the onslaught. As silly and pointless as it seemed to defend the hill, the Chinese lost over five times as many men sending wave after wave of untrained, ill equipped soldiers into the American guns trying to take it back. It was all a pointless endeavor, fought for individual and national pride by men who knew what the outcome would be, and who would have rather been anywhere else. Nevertheless, there they were, facing one another. Despite a rather good movie starring Gregory Peck, it, and the men who fought there, have largely been forgotten.

The game was in all reality over. Michigan had won on its first drive, and Hawaii was unable to do anything about it. The stadium was emptying, and as the people streamed out, the game kept going, a slave to time and tradition. My brother and I stayed in our seats that have been in our family for a long, long time. George was still in his seat behind me, just as he has been for years, and the son of the Doctor from the class of 1950 something was there in the row in front. His dad who normally sits there had covid, and despite wanting to come, thought maybe discretion was the better part of valor. There we sat, us idiots in our little cluster because we don’t leave early. I also like watching the garbage time. I like seeing young men who might never see the field again get their chance under the lights. I enjoy seeing their hard work rewarded, and I know their families are watching proudly. It is one of my favorite parts about college football, but it comes with some rules. One of which is you can be excited, and you can celebrate, but you do not try to flex on your opponent. Either you are blowing them out, or you yourself are being blown out. Act accordingly. So we rightfully got a little annoyed, as the Hawaii running back flexed in the endzone, and when they got down to the goal line after a semi successful, 14 play drive, I honestly was a little disappointed our defense (I get it, they are back up back ups) were not stopping them.

Hawaii got down to the 7, heading into the endzone on my side. They picked up another three on First Down and Michigan called timeout. The first time out of the drive. You could feel it. You could feel that someone, somewhere on the bench was now taking this seriously. A touchdown would be meaningless, but to the young men on the field, and to the coaches, it clearly meant something. The men on the Michigan defense stiffened, and with Hawaii on the doorstep, forced a 4th and Goal from the 2. I will confess, I felt no BPONE. I felt optimism, something new for me that last year breathed back into my football mind. I saw the Michigan defense dig in, for absolutely nothing other than pride in themselves and one another, and force an incomplete pass and get their offense the ball back. They had held

4th and Goal. (Have a video but couldn't figure out how to upload it)

We probably won’t remember the names of the 11 men on the field for those last three plays at the goalline, we certainly won’t remember any of the names of the Hawaii players: but they will remember. And when they go on to be doctors, or lawyers, or whatever life brings their way, they will remember that despite there being nothing on the line, and despite most of the football loving world having either gone to bed or abandoned the game, they stood strong. Hawaii, and everyone else will see that even Michigan’s backups, playing for nothing, will never give up, and will not be pushed around. Those 11 men will remember that they were part of a goal line stand at Michigan Stadium, under the lights, and they will get to say that forever. That is what I love about college football. The pride.