On the 3rd play from scrimmage Saturday, facing 3rd and 2, Hassan Haskins avoids an arm tackle in the backfield and accelerates quickly through the left side B gap well past the first down marker.  As he clears the second level, Haskins is one-on-one with safety Bryson Shaw from Ohio State.  Haskins could spin, juke, or even hurdle #17 in white and might have a shot at scoring.  But none of those choices appear to enter 25's mind: he barrels straight ahead, lowers his helmet and sticks it into the chest of Shaw. 

A few plays later, again facing 3rd and short, Haskins meets Shaw several yards downfield a second time.  This time, Shaw makes a business decision and hops on 25's back rather than trying to take him head on.  Haskins abides his newfound passenger and carries him for 4-5 more yards. 

Later, when Haskins dives into the end zone to retake the lead and put Michigan up 14-10, Bryson Shaw is standing 3 yards in the end zone, flat on his feet, wanting no part of Hassan Haskins. 

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With 5:50 to go in the second quarter, Michigan faces a 4th and 1 at midfield.  25 seconds on the playclock, Cade Mcnamara borrows from Zach Novak's "Aneurysm of Leadership" and yells, with both fists clenched and his whole body shaking, for his tight ends to get lined up.  They dutifully bow their helmets and hustle into position.  Michigan checks to the sideline a few times, and ultimately calls a timeout before converting on a play in which Roman Wilson participates in a double-team of Zach Harrison, thumping the former 5 star and helping to ensure he has no impact on Haskin's carry.  One team's QB spent all afternoon with his hands stuck in his fannypack warmer, one team's QB wore the shortest sleeves he could find.  Call him a game manager all you want, it's pretty clear Cade Mcnamara is a field general. 

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After Mike Macdonald's defense boots OSU off the field in a 3 and out to start the second half (arguably the most important defensive stop Michigan has had since 1997), a change of pace from Josh Gattis in the form of a hobbled Blake Corum, still faster than almost all mortals on 1 ankle, puts Michigan at the OSU 11 in 2 plays.  As Corum hobbles off to the sideline, Michigan runs C-gap power into the boundary with Haskins.  OSU's Tyreke Smith gets so far upfield that a pulling Keegan barely needs to touch him and #77 ends up 7 yards downfield before he meets anyone to block.  As Haskins follows a similarly unmolested Erick All to the end zone, Haskins, All, Keegan, Roman Wilson and the rest of the offense do not find Michigan fans to celebrate with.  They do not look toward each other, toward their teammates on the sideline, or into the TV cameras broadcasting their dominance into 15 million households.  Instead, the boys in blue walk slowly toward the small section of the South endzone wearing red (where I believe player parents sit) and let every visitor know their intentions - making it a bad day to be a Buckeye in every way possible.  Michigan's marching orders for Saturday unfold exactly according to script: smash, berate, intimidate, and dominate everything in red, whether it is wearing a jersey, looking like Eddie Munster on the sidelines, filling the water jugs, or cheering on its kid.

Jim Harbaugh invited Ryan Day to the playground at 3 pm for a fist fight, told Day how exactly he was going to beat his ass, then proceeded to hand out the whooping in the exact predicted fashion. After his suffering was over, Day sounded befuddled about how his team was supposed to deal with Michigan's ground game and get on track in the second half, "you just felt you could never get the ball back on offense.  That's a bad feeling because you start to force it a little bit on offense.  You don't stop the run and don't establish the run, you're in that position."  Day made sure to note that OSU "actually" let Michigan score its final touchdown on purpose to get the ball back, a damning and embarrassing admission in and of itself, never mind that most observers could not discern a difference between the Surrender Defense and the goal line defense OSU employed on the previous Michigan touchdown.  Maybe that was OSU's second half adjustment: if we just let them score every time, we'll get the ball back to our offense quicker. If only Day could look across the field and learn a lesson: run the damn ball to win in the Big Ten in November.  Bill Belichick describes tough teams as able to do three things: run the ball, stop the run, and cover kicks.  So don't take Josh Gattis at his word when he calls OSU soft, just ask Bill Belichick, Ryan Day and his play calls.

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There is a cadre of Michigan fans who hate the tradition of the stadium singing Mr. Brightside in the 3rd quarter.  Singing a song about romantic infidelity at a football game makes no sense, they claim.  For my part, I enjoy most anytime tens of thousands of people sing the same song in unison (whether it is The Victors, or America the Beautiful, etc.), so I never gave it too much thought - it just sounded cool to me.  But as I reflect on this edition of Michigan Football and what my love of this program means to me, the Killers could not be a better fit.  Mr. Brightside is about having the deep sinking feeling in your gut that something is going to go badly, seeing the evidence that confirms its true, and still finding the light in your heart to believe the next time will be better.  Mr. Brightside, in the Michigan Football context, is about the beautiful and irrational hope you get every August that just this once, this team, with this coach, can win a championship.  On Saturday in Indy, Jim Harbaugh and Michigan have a chance to prove that silly, stupid optimist in you right.

GO. BLUE.

 

P.S. - the title of this meandering brain dump is a quote from Fitzgerald Toussaint in the pregame tunnel against OSU in 2013.