The Second Law of Thermodynamics requires that everything always is trending toward entropy. We plunge towards the random and chaotic. Entropy points the arrow of time in just one direction, and we will not return here. For us, the Conquering Heroes entered battle and valiantly arose victorious, and now the parade is literally over and we face a long offseason. Already the Message Board demands to know what next year will provide. We ask how long we can enjoy this feeling while we already feel it slip away.

Gone are many of our known friends and trusted agents (JJ, Blake, Mike, Zak, Michael and many others). Even if they were all returning, even if we win a championship next year, it would not feel the same.

Sitting in the Rose Bowl, my wife and I sat on the designated Alabama side. The crowd on the east side was a mix of ‘Bama fans and our loyal Wolverines, and each contingent seemed to express a different energy. Yes, all were happy to be there, but the maize and blue clad exuded a particular energy and optimism. We knew this year could/would be different—we stood on hallowed ground and none dare sit.

The ‘Bama faithful on the east side of the bowl, facing into the sunset, had a look (perhaps something around the eyes) reminiscent of the last days of the Oracles: carrying the role of Priestesses of Victory had turned from a joy into a weariness as the days of success waned. They had reached the summit—over and over. Each time, the excitement a bit less. Each time knowing it was more likely to be the last for a while. Entropy was not on ‘Bama’s side. I’ve often thought there is little worse than being a fan of Alabama or Georgia these days. Reaching the pinnacle, they have nowhere else to go, but a sense they cannot stay. Each victory gives less satisfaction, each loss greater pain, until very little joy remains beyond the relief of escaping one more Saturday.

So why do we do this fandom thing?

There’s an old Zen riddle:

Dizang [the abbot of the monastery] asked Fayan [his student], “Where are you going?”  Fayan answered, “Around on pilgrimage.” Dizang then asked, “What is the purpose of pilgrimage?” Fayan replied, “I don’t know.”  Dizang said, “Not knowing is most intimate.”

Why do we go on this pilgrimage of being Michigan fans? For many of us pilgrims, it feels like there is little choice. Growing up in a household of fans or attending the university, it serves as glue, binding each of us to the other. We share this deep care for our school, and a deep aversion to our rivals: clinging to both love and hate in equal measure. But for some of us, at some point, the calculus tips, perhaps long before we realize it. The fulcrum where pain of loss and the vacuous nature of each victory, on one side, outweigh the highs of victory and tribalism on the other. Yet the glue is sticky, and we may still carry out this pilgrimage—wearing our holy Maize and devout Blue. Chanting our hymns of Hail! and sutras on the benefits of being a Michigan Wolverine.

So I repeat, why do we do it? Like Fayan, I don’t know.

Perhaps that’s for the best.

You may find yourself tempted to figure out the future. Who will be returning? Will Ohio State return all its starters and recreate our zeal? Will the NCAA vaporize it all? The temptation to understand, and adapt to, the unknown will only grow as the confetti is swept away and this cold January stretches into spring. Hoping to know feels like a poor answer to the wrong question. Prediction leads to the chronic pain of entropy sickness—the subconscious but unavoidable knowledge that the only reliable prediction is that this won’t last. “This” being everything. This moment will slowly but inevitably be replaced with old age, sickness and death.

Yet Dizang seems to tip this on its head. The hated not knowing actually becomes most intimate. The too confining blanket that, amidst August two-a-days, we throw into the closet becomes, in cold January, our greatest comfort. Perhaps we had no space for doubt amidst the celebration of 2023, but it may serve us well in the rebuilding of 2024.

Why do we do this pilgrimage? If the answer is because we will win, and it will always bring us ecstasy, we may need to recalculate. If the answer is because there is some deeper meaning here, then you may be projecting meaning where it cannot stick. I doubt Fayang was a big sports fan, but he understood that “why” is a question not to be answered. Instead, to raise the banner, to be a fan, knowing the cost, and without reason, seems most intimate.