The Tears and the Years

(to follow The Big Game)

I joined the saddened and tearful band members for our last post-game performance of the season. Traditionally, the seniors perform a senior show after post-game. Though we had hoped to do this amidst the thrill and excitement of victory, we could only feel icy, cold, wet defeat. One bright spot was that this was my opportunity to conduct “Hey, Jude,” a song that is particularly meaningful to me, as it was part of our performance on our Rose Bowl trip my freshman year.


As I stood on the ladder conducting my friends, I couldn’t help but feel that I had been in this position before…conducting under a cold sheet of rain, amidst a sad and tragic atmosphere. In many ways, my band experience during my senior year of high school ended in a similar state. The ups and downs…the hopes and dreams…and the final heartrending and disappointing swan song…but that’s a story for another day.

The point is this: After four years of putting your heart and soul into something, you begin to formulate an ideal end – a grand finale – in your thoughts. The fulfillment of this dream, this quintessential conclusion, becomes supremely important. To miss out on the fruition of this, only to experience tragic defeat, is an unfortunate and unwelcome reality.

Sure, at first this seemed devastating. Many of my peers were even crying, and I really couldn’t blame them. Still, I realized that one loss does not completely determine the success or failure of four years of my life. I thought back to the advice I offered the future drum majors when I stepped down from that role at the end of my senior year in high school:

“Remember, it’s not the end result that matters. What matters is the journey you take to get there. Always try to take the right path.”

So there you have it. Despite the bitter end, I have a lot of proud moments to look back on. The triple-overtime win over MSU. My personal Rose Bowl homecoming. The thrilling victory over Penn State. The destruction of Brady Quinn and the Irish. The Game of the Century against Ohio State. This year’s gutsy wins over Illinois and MSU.

As I marched off the field on this cold, emotional day, I thought: Today’s loss doesn’t undermine the emotion and the pride I have felt over the past four years. It merely reminds me that the world is full of trials and tribulations, but life does not have to be absolutely perfect in order to be fulfilling. I have been a part of great things in this stadium, and those are the memories that I will carry with me forever. Those are the events that make me who I am. And those are the moments that I kept in my thoughts as I walked out of the stadium one last time, amidst the cool, silent air…beneath the gentle glow of the Saturday night lights.






And now back to that quote from my senior year. That’s a pretty mature statement coming from a 17-year old. I’m pretty impressed…and I’m ‘me’. Now that the season is over, and Bowl Trip is over a month away, I should reflect on my lifelong band experience. What led me to see things the way I do; To see that…between the good and the bad...the weeks and the months…the tears and the years, we must always remember to appreciate our successes, and learn from our missteps.

And if we make sure to remember that…then no, we really can’t lose, can we?

The Big Game

November 17, 2007. Michigan Stadium.
The University of Michigan Wolverines versus the Ohio State Buckeyes

Gameday. We were focused. We meant business. I arrived on the steps of Revelli Hall at dawn and joined my fellow seniors for one final performance of “Salvation is Created”. As the sun rose, the light shone off the dewed sidewalks, reflecting the iridescent colors of fall, of our instruments, of the morning sky, and of the maize and blue atmosphere. With each ascending line of the magnificent piece, I yearned more for my own salvation; for the glory that this day could bring for Michigan faithful.

The rigor and intensity of the marching rehearsal was assuaged by the cool morning breeze. The practice was almost a formality. We knew we were prepared. It was almost as if the difficulty of this particular show scared us into focusing that much harder…just so we would be ready for the game. The Alto Tailgate was delicious as usual, but I was less focused on stuffing my face and more focused on watching ESPN College Gameday and getting into my uniform.

I went back to my apartment with Tom and Dustin to get changed. Seeing Ann Arbor on College Gameday was pretty exciting. We verbally abused Kirk Herbsteit while putting on our uniforms for our final march to the stadium. We even wore eyeblack to look that much more intimidating. Then we joined our fellow section members and paraded to the Big House. Even though the air was frigid, the rain was falling, and the odds were against us, we remained focused on the task at hand.



My final pregame in Michigan Stadium was a tearjerker. It’s impossible to adequately describe the feeling of coming out of the tunnel. Just imagine the nothingness…the utter silence within the concrete walls of Michigan Stadium, save for one constant drumbeat, beating in tempo with the hearts and minds of 235 maize and blue-clad musicians. Immediately, the silence vanishes behind you as if it never existed, and is replaced by the raucous cheering of 112,000 passionate fans in every direction. The first note of “M Fanfare” ignites the air, fueled by the ageless Michigan tradition. Even after all these years, the overwhelming nature of the piece still engages the fans, making them feel as if they are hearing it for the first time. As we march across the field to the tune of “The Victors,” the weight of our legs becomes exponentially more burdensome. However, the singing and chanting voices of the crowd serve as a momentary steroid, stimulating our adrenaline and inspiring us to push ourselves to the limit. Meanwhile, the faint boos of the opposing fans are heard in the background, just enough to make their presence known and motivate our Michigan pride. As we march off the field, it seems as if the last twelve minutes were both the shortest and longest of our lives. The perpetual struggle to endure the difficulty of pregame, compounded with the ephemeral transition from silence to riotous cheering to fleeting exhilaration, all of which is elegantly moderated by the timeless emotion and tradition that is 'Michigan Football'.

The game we were waiting for was finally underway. Chad Henne and Mike Hart were both playing, and we took a 3-0 lead early on. The band members around me were as fiery as I had seen them, treating our momentary lead with both satisfaction and guarded optimism. OSU’s running back Chris ‘Beanie’ Wells became the bulk of the opposing offense. He scored a touchdown in the second quarter, and OSU led 7-3 at the half. So far, it was a defensive struggle, but the cheers from band members did not subside. We took the field for our halftime performance, pouring our collective energy into the final challenging show in Michigan Stadium.

After halftime, the crowd was rejuvenated. We returned to our seats to cheer on our heroes, our efforts bolstered by the screams of the nearby student section. Before long, however, Beanie Wells silenced those cheers with an early third quarter touchdown. Suddenly, the student section was not a factor. The energy and excitement seemed limited to just the band section. We continued to cheer, but the football team produced one three-and-out after another. Slowly, the cheers around me subsided and the marching band crowd absorbed into the silence of the student section. Each subsequent three-and-out was like a twist of a knife. All of the faces around me showed concern and heartbreak. The icy rain and moldy marching band raincoats only added to our misery. As the fourth quarter wound down, all hope seemed lost. The reality was that the senior football players would indeed finish 0-4 against their bitter rival. I would graduate without ever beating OSU. And as the clock struck zero, Lloyd Carr walked off the field one last time, with a tragic loss in his final home game.

Final Score: Ohio State 14 – Michigan 3

The Eve of Battle

Today has been a pretty exciting day of immersing myself in the Michigan tradition. We had a Fanfare Band gig this morning at Schembechler Hall, where the football team practices. It was for a ceremony to recognize the construction of a new football practice facility. Coach Carr was there, looking classy and business-like as usual. Man, do I love him. Any chance to play for him makes me feel all warm and bubbly inside. This calls for a happy face moment…yup…here it is: ☺

That felt good. However, on our way out of the building, we walked by some medical room where we could see Chad Henne lying on a hospital-type bed. He didn’t look so great, either. I really hope he can play tomorrow. Otherwise, you know what’s gonna happen. That’s right…here it is:

:(


Band practice was pretty freezing today, but the show is actually going pretty well. There were a lot of fans that braved the conditions to see us today. All of Ann Arbor seems blissfully high on Michigan spirit. It’s awesome.

After practice, we literally had to run to the Diag for another Fanfare Band gig. This was for the Beat OSU Pep Rally, part of the newly formed “Beat OSU Week.” It was really exciting…Jamie Morris spoke, John Bacon spoke, Jim Brandstatter spoke, and I had a front row seat for all of it. Also, College Gameday is coming to Ann Arbor…and we’re playing for the Big Ten Title and a Rose Bowl berth. Everything seems to be in place for what could be one of the best Saturdays of my life…



So, cross your fingers. It’s time to kick the tires and light the fires. I’m hoping for a glorious day tomorrow…For the Maize and Blue. For the players. For Coach Carr. And for all the dedicated Michigan fans who stood by their team during such a turbulent year.

Go Blue!

The Fighting Hearts Ailing

So, just by being a member of the Michigan Marching Band, you are constantly immersed in Michigan football tradition. In fact, any band member would probably agree that the performance of the football team affects how you act in your daily life. It affects your mood, it affects your relationships…it’s almost as if we are living vicariously through the lives of players on the field.

That being said, the emotional roller coaster that is Michigan Athletics is enough to take years off of your life. On top of that, the physical damage on your body induced by the marching techniques we do doesn’t help. I have rarely marched in peak physical health at any point during my four years. As a freshman, I pulled a hip flexor and limped my way through September. My sophomore year, I nearly collapsed during Band Week for reasons I still can’t understand. Last year, I managed to sprain my ankle just before Rank Leader Retreat.

This year, however, has been slightly different. I’ve been pretty healthy from the get-go. Plus, I’m not fat. (Seriously, there are a surprising amount of hefty people in the MMB). Nevertheless, during recent weeks, I feel like my legs and ankles have been turning into, for lack of a better word, “mush”. And it seems like my injuries have worsened as the football players’ have done the same. Hence my initial point. See how I tied that together there? You’re so smart, Paul. And such a pretty face, too!

Anyway, I was lucky to have a weekend off, as the Wisconsin game is away and I’m not travelling. Unfortunately, Chad Henne and Mike Hart took the weekend off, as well. Both have injuries, and weren’t playing. Chad took a few snaps, but clearly couldn’t do much. Hart didn’t play at all. We lost. Final Score: Wisconsin 37, Michigan 21. It was just all…very depressing. I’m hoping that we can all take this next week to heal. I just don’t want to experience another loss to Ohio State, but it seems like all the elements are against us right now. Gotta have faith in my Wolverines! One week to go!

The Calm Before the Storm

Great News! My legs are feeling much less mushy right now…which is excellent, because our show this week is pretty strenuous. We’re doing a Cirque de Soleil show, which involves crazy backwards-follow-the-leader-blindly-imminent-disaster-certain-impending-doom moves. Still, it’s nice to have a challenging show for my last game in Michigan Stadium. What’s NOT nice is having to practice it in such freezing conditions. On top of that…we’re learning Senior Show this week, which involves even more rehearsal in the bitter, bitter cold. On the bright side, I do get to conduct “Hey, Jude!”

I’m excited for Saturday, but I’m also painfully nervous. After putting so much dedication and emotion into being a marching band member and a Michigan fan over the past four years, you can see why I’d like to go out on a high note (punny!). Not only that, but with these senior football players, and with what could possibly be Lloyd Carr’s last Big Ten game, I’m wishing for a win for them, as well.

Honestly, this is all pretty nerve-wracking. A win this weekend will be very fulfilling. A loss…well…I really don’t want to go through that again.

The Maize and Blue Rising, Part I

Alright, so…the reality is that I suck at updating this blog. Nevertheless, I’m going to try to recap a few weeks at once here. Let’s start with the Illinois game. Sound good? Good.

October 20, 2007. Memorial Stadium.
The University of Michigan Wolverines versus the Illinois Fighting Illini

The week leading up to this game was pretty stressful for hardcore Michigan fans. Mike Hart and Chad Henne were both injured? Or were they? Yes? No? Of course we were left guessing. Would they start? Would they play? Moreover, the fact that Illinois is actually kind of good this year just added to my anxiety.

On top of ALL of this, I couldn’t even watch the game. The Michigan Marching Band was performing at Band-o-Rama in Hill Auditorium, which conflicted with the football game time. Just before our performance started, marching band members were exploring the Modern Languages Building, looking for televisions with decent reception so we could get a glimpse of our beloved Wolverines. Naturally, we finally found one working TV, saw Mike Hart out of uniform on the sidelines, and then immediately had to leave for our performance.

Being members of the alto saxophone section, the consensus most prominent and most important musical section in the band, we were placed on…the very back of the stage. Some of us were actually stuck behind a pillar. And, I think Alan might have been standing underneath a tuba player. After 26,000 sets of entries, the brass players all backed up about a foot onstage, effectively smashing us into the back wall.

No matter. My lovely co-rank leader Nicole and I were fortunate to be on the end next to Carl Grapentine, the announcer and “voice” of the Michigan Marching Band. On a side note: I kind of wish Carl were the voice of my entire life. Like…a personal narrator. You know…like Emma Thompson in “Stranger than Fiction.” Except…without the crappy storyline, and bad acting, and painfully uncreative irony. Seriously, now I’m kind of angry. Emma Thompson is such a good actress, and I could have written that screenplay while sitting on the toilet and balancing a bar of soap on my forehead and doing ab crunches with ankle weights on. Not that I ever do things like that in the bathroom……………I don’t! I swear! Don’t look at me that way…COME BACK, CARL GRAPENTINE! I miss your voice!!!! I’m sorry!!!!!

Wow, how did I get so off-topic there? Yeah, so….Carl would go backstage during the songs and check out the football game, then come back and give Nicole and me updates. Unfortunately, these updates were, “It doesn’t look good guys.” “Hart’s out. Henne’s hurt. Mario Manningham’s hurt. We’re losing. We look pretty bad right now.”

Words cannot express how utterly stressful this concert was while knowing this information. Here we were, just toot-toot-tooting our horns while there was an f-ing BATTLE going on. Needless to say, the moment the concert ended, we literally sprinted to my apartment, in full uniform, saxophones-in-hand and arms FLAILING in the air.

We were able to see the whole fourth quarter, during which Chad Henne led a furious comeback while injured, and Adrian Arrington accidentally executed a RIDICULOUS trick play where he ran right on a reverse and tossed a touchdown pass to Mario Manningham to give us the lead. Final Score: Michigan 27, Illinois 17. Amazing Game.

The Maize and Blue Rising, Part Deux

November 3, 2007. Spartan Stadium.
The University of Michigan Wolverines versus the Michigan State Spartans

Despite Henne’s gutsy game, it was clear that he was still beat up. Two weeks later, we traveled to East Lansing for the Michigan State game. Chad Henne and Mike Hart were both playing, and seemed okay, but still not completely healthy. The game reflected this, and MSU had a 10-point lead midway through the fourth quarter. On top of that, Henne aggravated his injury, forcing Ryan Mallett to come in. Approximately 3 seconds after Ryan Mallett had stepped onto the field, he had already fumbled the ball, which Mike Hart subsequently snatched up and took for a first down. Way to keep me excited/give me a heart-attack, Ryan Mallett.

Obviously, Henne had to come back in the game because there was no way Mallett could hold onto the football, let alone lead a comeback. In just over 6 minutes, Henne lofted a 14-yard touchdown pass to Greg Mathews, and a spectacular 31-yarder to Mario Manningham. The once-booming Spartan crowd quickly reverted to their usual emotions of worthlessness and self-pity. Final Score: Michigan 28, Michigan State 24.

I must say, it must be extremely demoralizing to be a Michigan State fan. Here’s my four-year recap: My freshman year, we were down by 17 with six minutes left, and still won in three overtimes. My sophomore year, we won after one overtime. My junior year, we blew them out. Then this. Ha Ha Sparty. Sucks to be you.

Then, as we were marching off the field, one of the Michigan State assistant coaches tried to walk through our ranks. Just to be clear, this is a big No-No. Don’t ever expect to walk through the band without being pelted with drumsticks, then tripped and trounced on, then left for dead. We simply told the coach he couldn’t walk through. Infuriated, he retorted by screaming at the whole band, “YOU PEOPLE ARE FUCKING CLASSLESS! THIS IS SOME CLASSLESS BULLSHIT!” His shouting echoed through the emptied stadium, and he stood there red-faced, screaming profanities. Interestingly, he was carrying a small child on his shoulders during this whole episode. I guess cussing out 300 marching band members in front of a young, innocent child is considered classy in East Lansing. Oh you Michiganders, you impress me more every day!

Now, I must say, this football season has been anything BUT boring. After these thrilling wins, the App State and Oregon fiascos seem so far away. Kudos to Lloyd Carr and these student-athletes who came back from a disastrous start to salvage the season. After eight consecutive wins, we’re back on top of the Big Ten Standings, and the final game against Ohio State will be for a BCS berth. In such an emotional year, this team has played tough, and the true fans have stood by them. After falling early, the Maize and Blue are rising, and this team can still make Michigan history when all is said and done.

The Progression

October 13th, 2007. Michigan Stadium
The University of Michigan Wolverines versus the Purdue Boilermakers

Following a four game winning streak, it seemed like Michigan Football was progressing back in the right direction. With so many home games, and my classes, and everything else, I started to feel physically and emotionally drained. Fortunately for me, Fall Break was ahead. All that stood in the way was a talented Purdue team.

The Michigan offense started out aggressively. After just a few minutes, Henne had already completed one touchdown to Mario Manningham. Purdue responded and tied it up midway through the first quarter. However, what followed was some of the most efficient offensive play I’ve seen since being a student at Michigan. After two Mike Hart touchdowns, two Carlos Brown touchdowns, and another Manningham receiving touchdown, the scoreboard read Michigan 48 – Purdue 7. Purdue would score in garbage time, but the end of the game still left me satisfied. Final Score: Michigan 48 – Purdue 21.

At this point, it was clear that a break from football was needed. And what could better fill that void than ALTO PROG!

What is Alto Prog, you ask? Well, if my parents are reading this blog, this is where you stop and move on to the next entry. Otherwise, just replace every mention of an alcoholic beverage with a type of flower, or fluffy animal, or something like that. Yup. Completely innocent here.

Anyway…Alto Prog. This is where all of the members of the Alto Saxophone section come together for an evening and progress from house to house, enjoying a different drink (tulip? bunny rabbit?) at each stop. This year’s theme was….well….‘me’. “Paul Prog” began with a Case Race symbolizing “Paul’s Conception”, where we split into three teams and drank three cases of beer as fast as possible. The winning group would achieve my conception! Because isn’t that the most difficult race of your existence anyway?

Next stop: Paul’s’ Bar Mitzvah. Here, we had a candle lighting ceremony where we recognized each member of the section. They all joined me to light their candles, and then Alan played Hava Nagila on his saxophone while the alto masses lifted me into the air on a chair. It was sublime.

Then came the Mojitos. This was meant to represent my first halftime show, which was the Latin Show during my freshman year. All in all, this was one of the best drinks of the night.

Then came my stop. Paul’s First Love: Tequila Shots. I won’t give a background story here, other than the fact that I am completely innocent, and I spend all of my free time petting animals or feeding the homeless. Anyway, while everyone enjoyed their shots, complete with salt and lime, I was frantically cooking made-to-order crepes in my kitchen. I made about 50 crepes in 35 minutes. Each person had their choice of ingredients, including nutella, bananas, strawberries, whip cream, and coconut. Best drunk food EVER.

Up next was rum and apple cider. Yes, this signified my first real Fall in Ann Arbor. And Pat and Nicole did an excellent job mixing these drinks (arranging flowers).

Craig’s stop was “Paul Goes to the Beach.” They asked me to parade around with my shirt off here, but I declined. Instead, I happily enjoyed the sex on the beach drinks.

Finally, our last stop was “Paul’s First Kiss.” We each enjoyed peppermint patties, which consisted of drinking peppermint schnapps and washing it down with chocolate syrup. This was definitely the messiest stop, and we all probably pet the bunnies a little more than we should have.

Anyway, the evening ended at a huge house party, and the altos seemed satisfied with the evening. Yes, this was definitely the best Alto Prog yet, and it’ll be a tough one to beat. Fall Break is ahead, but after that, it’s back to work. This season is still just beginning.

The Irish, Creamed.

September 15th, 2007. Michigan Stadium.
The University of Michigan Wolverines versus the Notre Dame Fighting Irish

In an unexpected turn of events, both these teams entered the matchup with 0-2 records. On top of that, “Fire Lloyd” shirts began selling all over campus. I found this immensely frustrating. Not only were fans criticizing their beloved coach, but they seemed to lose all hope for the season. So what if they fired Carr? What would that solve? Yeah, let’s fire our coach in the middle of the season. Then maybe we’ll win some games. Idoits.

Fortunately for me, I am surrounded by some of the best fans on campus in the Michigan Marching Band. All week long, a mentality of perfection surged through the band. We knew that we would only expect the best from ourselves this week, and we hoped to spread that attitude to Wolverines in such dire need of guidance and inspiration.

At Friday’s Pep Rally, the Michigan Marching Band ignited the atmosphere with our energy. Jamie Morris eloquently and openly SCOLDED Michigan fans for their abysmal behavior. Lloyd Carr was focused on the task at hand. Mike Hart GUARENTEED a victory over our rivals. And Russell Crowe even came to the game to inspire the football team to win.

This week’s halftime show was music from “Guitar Hero.” We opened with Iron Man, intimidating all of Michigan Stadium with a wall of sound. At the climax of the show, we headed to the student section and rocked out to Fire Bird. The Stadium was rocking. The football team was rolling. And Notre Dame was reeling. With Chad Henne injured and out, Mike Hart carried his team to victory, and a dominant 38-0 win over the Irish gave us a glimmer of hope for the future.

The Road Test

September 23rd, 2007. Ryan Field.
The University of Michigan Wolverines versus the Northwestern Wildcats

So, I wanted to go to this game more than anything. Every year, the students in the MMB travel as fans to one away game, and this was it. I wanted to be in attendance for Michigan’s first road test of the season. Unfortunately, I had a small test of my own.

Yes, while my friends were traveling to Chicago for some fun, I was a nervous wreck for my LSAT. Not only that, but I was being held hostage by my brother and his girlfriend, Jovauna. Let me explain:

So my LSAT was at Washtenaw Community College at 8:00 AM on Saturday morning. Since all my friends were in Chicago, I didn’t really have anyone to drive me there. I asked my brother to give me a ride, but he wasn’t fond of the idea of driving to my apartment at 7 AM to pick me up. Alas, my only choice was to stay with them the night before and wake their lazy asses up to take me in the morning. So that’s what I did.

The test itself started out rough. The other people in the room kept asking stupid questions, and I was afraid that their stupidity was rubbing off on me. I felt unfocused at the start, but slowly settled in. I felt fine when it was over, but all I wanted to do was get to a television and watch the game.

Because of the new Big Ten Network, Comcast was not covering this game on any of its channels. I had to go to Damon’s with my brother and Jovauna and stand at a bar to watch. Furthermore, it seemed like Michigan was going through the same struggles during their road test that I had during my test. They seemed unfocused and intimidated at first, as Northwestern took the lead during the first half. But slowly, Chad Henne took charge, and refocused his team. Mike Hart carried the offense, and Henne hit his receivers when necessary. The defense had a terrific fourth quarter, and Michigan escaped Evanston victorious. Michigan 28 – Northwestern 16.

At this point in the season, I’ve observed something very different about this football team. These seniors seem to be playing very tough, mentally…Tougher than I have ever seen them play. Mike Hart is literally carrying the team on his back, while Chad Henne is pushing through his injury to make plays. Can they continue the trend and salvage a season that started out so horribly, horribly wrong?

The Aftershock

September 8th, 2007. Michigan Stadium.
The University of Michigan Wolverines versus the Oregon Ducks

Bounceback Game. After last week’s surprising loss to ASU, Michigan was the laughingstock of the nation. You could tell that people on campus felt embarrassed and shocked. Still, the general consensus was that Michigan would easily bounce back and annihilate an inferior Oregon squad. As Saturday approached, shock turned to optimism. Everyone knew Appalachian State was an aberration. Maybe it was the world’s way of paying us back for making so much fun of their recruitment commercial. Yes, Michigan fans seemed confident again. Michigan Football would return to glory, and all would be right with the world.

And then Dennis Dixon happened.

Oregon’s quarterback produced three touchdowns before halftime. Not only that, but with Oregon up 32-7 in the second quarter, Michigan fans turned on their heroes. Students began cheering “RYAN-MALLET” with each incomplete pass from Henne. Even after Chad injured his knee, and pushed through the pain for an entire series, Michigan fans tormented their quarterback. All in all, this was not a good day for Wolverine Nation. The team looked slow. The fans were abysmal. And a 0-2 start has students calling for Lloyd Carr’s head.

Final Score: Oregon 39 – Michigan 7

So now shock has turned to frustration. We are experiencing uncharted territory. This will divide the men from the boys. Is it too late to salvage the season? I think not.

The Shock

September 1st, 2007. Opening Game. Michigan Stadium.
The University of Michigan Wolverines versus the Appalachian State University Mountaineers.

Standing in my seat with the rest of the Michigan Marching Band in Michigan Stadium, I struggled to comprehend exactly what was happening in front of my eyes. Appalachian State was leading Michigan 31-26 at the beginning of the fourth quarter during the opening game of the 2007 season. That’s right…Division I-AA Appalachian State was winning. That’s like a minor league team outplaying a major leaguer.

The 110,000 fans in the Big House all experienced a collective state of shock. How was Michigan going to escape this mess? Who would be the hero? I thought the answer was clear when Mike Hart, in a phenomenal effort, single-handedly willed a spectacular 54-yard touchdown run into the end zone with 4:36 left in the game, putting Michigan up 32-31.

Still, Appalachian State roared back with a 24-yard field goal with 26 seconds left to lead 34-32. Twenty-Six seconds left. Who would be the hero for Michigan? Chad Henne launched a ballsy 46-yard pass to Mario Manningham, putting Michigan back into field goal range with time left for one play. All that stood in the way of an extraordinary win for Michigan was a 37-yard field goal by kicker Jason Gingell as time expired. Crossing my fingers and holding hands with my fellow section members, I watched the final play unfold. The ball was snapped. My heart was racing. 110,000 people looked on as Gingell’s foot hit the pigskin, and…

Flashback: Three Days Earlier. Just a few weeks after returning to the U.S., I was already deeply immersed in the world of marching band. As a rank leader candidate, my “Band Week” was particularly long and strenuous, but certainly rewarding. My fellow rank leader candidates and I were delighted to see such improvement among the freshmen, and were expecting another awesome year. After practice one day, Alan and I ordered some Chinese food complete with tasty fortune cookies! I cracked mine open, and the fortune read:

“Your road to glory will be rocky, but fulfilling.”

So, of course, at first glance, I basically read it as “your road to glory will be blah blah trite cliché blah blah blah.” Then I thought about the football season ahead, and all the work I was putting into the Michigan Marching Band, and all the expectations for a championship. The road to glory will be rocky? Uh…not too rocky, I hope. Whatever…fortune cookies don’t mean much anyway.

Back to the game. Jason Gingell’s foot hit the ball. I could barely keep my eyes open. My fellow band members and I were petrified. Then it happened. Blocked. My heart immediately sank. The 110,000 fans that had been so vocal a few seconds earlier were now silent. In one of the biggest upsets in college football history, the hot, Hot, HOT Appalachian State Mountaineers did the unexpected.
Final Score: ASU 34, Michigan 32.

“Shock” is still the best word to describe my reaction. However, other Michigan fans embraced emotions of anger and frustration. It seemed as if within seconds, people were already calling for Coach Lloyd Carr’s head. Who should be blamed for this disaster?

So what happens now? How do we pick up the pieces? Do we continue to play the blame game, or do we rise back up and see what we’re made of? Many thought this would be the year Michigan would finally achieve greatness and make it to the National Championship Game. Now that’s impossible, but that doesn’t mean the road to glory is no longer traversable. Forget who should be blamed. Forget the anger. Forget the frustration. While the entire world writes Michigan off, there’s only one thing the Maize and Blue can do. Get back up. Show the world how good Michigan is. Be so good…so good that you can’t possibly be ignored.

Maybe Coach Taylor expressed this situation the best in NBC’s overly romanticized football show, Friday Night Lights:

“We will all, at some point in our lives, fall. We will all fall. We must keep this in our hearts. That what we have is special. That it can be taken from us. And when it is taken from us, we will be tested. We will be tested to our very souls.”

And now Michigan will be tested. Ladies and Gentlemen, how can you not wonder how this story will unfold?

The Breakout

As awesome as Paris is, my living situation has been pretty sketchy. I’ve spent the past five weeks in a hostel. At first, it wasn’t bad at all. By week six, however, it started to go a little downhill. Across the street from the hostel is a mental institution. You know, like the kind used in the phrase, “Mental Institution? Isn’t that just a euphemism for an insane asylum?” Well, they must have had a massive breakout or something, because the patients have been roaming around the hostel and screaming at all the people staying here. They keep coming up to me and speaking this crazy French babble, but I usually just walk away.

Well, run away.
With my arms flailing.

On top of the Mental Hospital Breakout, by week six, I started breaking out all over my face. It seemed like every time I looked in the mirror, a new pimple had sprouted. I started naming each of them after corrupt African politicians in an effort to help me study for my African Politics final, but I kept confusing Leon M’Ba with Jomo Kenyatta, and then Omar Bongo and Gnassinbé Éyadéma sort of merged together into one giant mass of pimpley corruption. That’s not weird or gross. Right?

I realized that I was probably breaking out because of all the germs around my hostel, and in the Paris metro trains. Each hostel bed has a pillow in it, and strangely, they don’t have pillow covers. Considering how much of a drooler I am, I decided against using that pillow during my last few days.

Oh, and as far as the metro is concerned, I just tried not to touch anything at all there. It wasn’t easy, though. In fact, when you exit the subway, you always have to pass through these doors that say “Poussez Ici,” pronounced POOSE-SAY E-C, or in English: “Push Here.” When you think about it, so many people touch that door with their disgusting hands every day. So how come everyone in Paris isn’t breaking out? Maybe not showering helps? I am so confused.

(This probably isn't a good idea.)

So, yeah….some advice for any of you planning on traveling to Paris: Don’t Touch Anything. And if you do, just try to wash your hands frequently. And never touch your face. Believe me, even if it says to “Push Here,” it’s still filthy. I’m telling you right now…be careful. The entire city is filled with some really dirty “poussez.”

Score:

France: 7

Paul: 3

The Fondue Refuge

We found a really cool fondue restaurant in the heart of Montmartre called “Refuge des Fondue.” The entire place was about the size of a dorm room, and we had to climb over the tables to get to our seats. Once seated, we had several choices. The Cheese Fondue came with a pot of hot, melted cheese and endless bread for dipping. There was also a Meat Fondue, which involved a pot of boiling oil and some raw beef that could be cooked inside, along with some potatoes and a selection of sauces on the side. Naturally, we had all of the above.

Side Note:

I'm basically a pimp.

On top of all this, the entire meal came with unlimited red wine. The Catch: You had to drink it out of a baby bottle. And when you ran out, you had to cry “Wahhhhhhh!” to get them to refill it. It was weird/fun? Oh, what will these Frenchies think of next…

Sitting on the other side of the restaurant, (and by other side, I mean essentially in our laps,) were a group of students speaking several different languages, including English, French, German, and something that sounded like all three languages put together, but then spoken backwards. When we asked where they were from, they all had different answers. One girl, however, told me she was from Michigan. When I told her that I went to U of M, she started rattling off names of people asking if I knew them.

One after the other, she said a name that I didn’t recognize at all, until she said “Steve Pappas?”

Me: “Pappas?! Pappas is my hero!!!”

Turns out that this girl knew Pappas from high school or something and dated Pappas’ housemate. So I called Pappas on her phone and he seemed slightly confused to here my voice…from another friend’s phone number…from Paris. Small World.

Still, if you know Pappas, you probably aren’t surprised. He is a man among men, and his legacy extends beyond the limits of the state of Michigan, and he has touched lives across the globe. Pappas, I salute you. My hero.

Current Score:
France: 5, Paul: 3, Steve Pappas: 6894

Me and my hero.

Another old and, slightly bizzare, picture of me and Pappas

The Fourteenth

One of the most important days in France is July 14th: Bastille Day. Basically like a French independence day, signifying the time when the people of Paris stormed the Bastille to free its prisoners (though, in reality, the prison was empty). I had a full schedule for the holiday beginning at 7:00 A.M., when I left Paris to visit some champagne manufacturers in the Champagne region. The first place was a huge industrial plant where they had miles of underground caves filled with champagne bottles, slowly aging.

The whole experience was pretty educational. For example, only products developed in the Champagne region of France can be called champagne. From anywhere else, it’s probably called sparkling wine. Also, once you buy champagne, it must be stored horizontally, and in a cool place.

We also visited a small family-owned champagne business. The owner told me about all of the neighborhood children who drive through his garage door and steal his champagne. He seemed pretty excited about his new defense strategy, which was a heavy-duty gate secretly placed on the inside of his garage, which would catch the young thieves off guard and certainly mess up their vehicles. Then he gave an evil little chuckle. Heh heh Heh.

We also had an AWESOME lunch included on the trip. To this day, I have no clue what the main dish was. It was meat, but it wasn’t. The sauce on top was as if it had thickened after cooking the way sauce normally does, but at the same time, as if it was never sauce from the start. The objects surrounding the meat substance seemed edible, but really, no more so than the strange off-white plate on which they were sitting. I ate the whole thing, confused, but satisfied. Afterwards came dessert. It was called soupe de fraise (strawberry soup), which, to me, tasted like chopped up strawberries in a bowl full of kool-aid. I didn’t think it was that great, until I saw the hefty price on the menu, and convinced myself that kool-aid soup had to be one of the best desserts I’ve ever had. Oh, YEAH!

On the way back to Paris, we stopped at a huge cathedral in Rimes. Normally, I don’t concern myself with such things as artistic beauty and glorious architecture, but even I thought this place was pretty cool. Tall pillars, stained glass windows…even the French bums outside seemed to have a holy aura surrounding them. You know…separate from their normal aura of heinous body odor.

And finally, I got back to Paris around 9:30 PM. That gave me about an hour to get to the Bastille Day fireworks. I didn’t know where exactly to go, just that I had to get through the whole of Paris and end up somewhere close to the Eiffel Tower. I got to my metro station as the train pulled up. Full. And when I say ‘full’, I mean there were limbs hanging out of the windows and babies being held over people’s heads. I waited for the next train. Eureka! I managed to force myself into a spot between two children and an old woman, just behind a skinny Nigerian girl, and slightly to the right of the entire population of Paris’ 14th Arondissement. Perfect Fit.

So as the entire Fourteenth Arondissement accompanied me to the July Fourteenth Fireworks, we were all shocked as our train approached the Eiffel Tower train stop, and then completely skipped it, and dropped us off across the river. Curse you, Paris. Foiled again! I got out and had to somehow get back across the river by foot. When I got to the bridge, the Parisian police force stood as a human wall, forbidding anyone to cross. Using my precious gift of logic, I noticed that it was possible to, well, simply walk around them.

I walked through the crowds on the bridge and made it to the other side. From here, I stood on the side of a road between the bank of the Seine and the Eiffel Tower. Perfect. Still, I wasn’t sure if the fireworks would come from over the Champ de Mars, over the river, or from the Eiffel Tower itself. Using my aforementioned logic, I figured that I could just observe the people sitting on the sides of the road and face whichever way they seemed to be looking. Strangely, the people on one side of the street were all facing the people on the other side, and vice versa. Unless the fireworks were happening directly over this road, half of the people in the vicinity were obviously looking the wrong way. I hovered on the side of the road where people seemed slightly less clueless, and parked myself.

Alas, moments later, a firework blasted just behind my back and scared the crap out of me, and I was enormously frustrated to be on the side of the road of the idiots, who all stood up and turned around toward the river saying things like “Oh, it’s over there.” Still, the fireworks were pretty extraordinary, and went on for about an hour. Throughout the show, music was being placed from huge speakers at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. While some of the music seemed unusually Earthy and spiritual, most of it was just John Williams stuff from American movies. Go, French Pride! All in all, a good show.

After it ended, I sprinted to the nearest metro, only to find the line all the way outside the entrance and around the block. Then I ran to the next stop. Same situation. At this point, I realized that the best way back to my place would be to just walk the 90 minute trip back. When I walked back to my building, I was famished. It was late, so I could only walk to a nearby vending machine and grab a snack. As I pulled out my wallet, I realized that felt pretty proud of myself for conquering Paris on such a busy day. After this thought though, I saw that the machine only took coins, and then noticed that I had none left. Curse you, Paris! Foiled again!!!

So I returned to my room with exactly the same thing that the Parisians found inside The Bastille on that Fourteenth of July in 1789 when they stormed the entrance:

Absolutely nothing.


Current Score:

France: 5 Paul: 1

The Portuguese Ingenuity

If you have ever been to France, you know that they don’t concern themselves with such trivial concepts like showering and wearing deodorant. They consider abhorrent body odors a “natural part of life.” My personal reaction to this notion was that rotten teeth are a “natural part of life,” too, so why is tooth-brushing a common practice in France? There seems to be a major plot hole in the book of French societal norms.

Alas, my point: After much deliberation, I have decided not to assimilate into this one particular aspect of French culture. Yes, it sounds blasphemous, but I plan to shower here in France. And not just sparingly, but EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. HA! Still, it’s as if the French have learned of my wretched plan and are doing everything that they can to prevent me from achieving this goal of (gasp!) good hygiene. They even rigged my shower to be as inefficient as possible. To operate it, I have to push a button, after which I get about 12 seconds worth of lukewarm water before it turns off again. And I suppose they think that’s all the cleaning I need, and that I will submit to their shower usage hegemony.

Oh…ho..ho..ho, silly Frenchies. You forgot about my Portuguese ingenuity. Yes, the uncanny ability passed down through the generations to solve any problem with merely a penny and a string. I glanced quickly across my dorm room. Aha! I pulled an elastic cable off of my suitcase, then wrapped it around the shower ‘button.’ I can easily tighten it and loosen it as I please. Eureka! Constant water flow! With this new technology, I can shower for five…ten….even TWENTY minutes! Mwahahaha…..

All thanks to my Portuguese blood. My entire family would be proud: Young and Old. Foolish and Wise. Smelly and Clean.

Current Score:

France: 1 Paul: 1

The Paris

Hey, all! Haven’t updated in a while since internet access in France is outrageously BAD. Anyway, I spent two weeks in Provence eating cheese and drinking wine before I took the train up here to Paris. I’m taking a summer class at the American University of Paris until August 10th.

A few days ago, I arrived in Paris all by myself. Lost. Confused. Walking around aimlessly through the streets with an embarrassingly bright blue duffel bag in a foreign country. After a while, I finally found my hostel/living quarters down some dark alley and across the street from a mental institution. Sweet.

After I put my stuff in my room, I wandered the streets once again for a cyber café so I could check my email. I have to reiterate how bad computer access is in Paris. While I’m normally joined at the hip with my computer at school, I felt completely naked here in France. Lost. Confused. Naked. In the streets of Paris.

Oh, and starving. I also hadn’t eaten much for about two days. I’m so stingy to begin with, and the conversion rate makes me want to starve myself rather than buy a meal. I eventually obtained some fine Parisian dining for about 4 Euros, which, if I calculated it correctly, is equivalent to about $275:

My First Parisian Meal:

Current Score:

Paul: 0 France: 1

Notable Quotables

News Reporter: “In local news, an Echo Park girl is raped by a 22 year-old man. The Pictures – at 11:00.”
Me: “Pictures?”
-TV anchor in local news commercial.


“Yea, I had to examine his private area. Believe me…I wasn’t impressed.”
-One of the doctors at work after examining a patient.


Dad: “The Cleaning Lady stole our plunger!”
Mom: “Are you sure? Why would they steal the plunger and not my jewelry?”
Kisho: “Well, to Mexican people, plungers are like gold.”


Me: “Mom, I don’t think you realize how fat the cat has gotten. Why don’t you just feed it less?”
Mom: “It’s survival of the fittest. Boots bites me, and I feed him.”

The Company Picnic

Let me just say that our family outings are absolutely rife with dysfunction and verge on worldwide social upheaval. A couple days ago, my mom and dad took me, Nicky, and Ashton to Mom’s company picnic for all of the doctors in her office. It was about 45 minutes away, so Step One involved us driving from Point A to Point B without any significant injuries. To facilitate the experience, my dad was using some new portable GPS system with some computer woman’s voice to navigate us. Just as we pulled out of the driveway, my mom began lecturing us:

Mom: “Okay, boys. When we’re at the party, you guys need to make sure you act rich. All the other doctors think we’re rich since we live in La Cañada, and I don’t want them to know the truth.”
Us: “Okay, Mom.”
Mom: “Good. You can practice on the way over.”
Ashton: “Let’s see…Can I say, ‘I know I just got a laptop for my bar mitzvah…but can I have a new one?’”
Mom: “Yeah, like that. Good one!”

GPS Lady: “After 100 Feet, Turn Right onto 2 Freeway South”
Dad: “See…she’s telling us where to go.”
Mom: “I don’t need her to tell me. I can get there myself.”

Nicky: “How about this? We just got a brand new Mercedes. I don’t really like it that much.”
Me: “I know. The color is awful. I feel like I can only drive it in La Crescenta. Can we get a better Mercedes so that I won’t be embarrassed to be seen in, Mom?”
Mom: “That’s good. But we don’t want to sound too much like jerks.”

GPS Lady: “After 100 Feet, Merge Right. Take the 134 Freeway ramp. Ventura.”
Mom: “Stupid GPS Bitch. I know how to get there.”
Dad: “She’s just trying to help!”

Me: “Speaking of help, good help is SOOO hard to find. I mean, our cleaning ladies aren’t very good at cleaning my room. You know…Whatshername…Rosario or Maria or whatever.”
Ashton: “Yea, I know. I saw her the other day and I was like, “Maria, you didn’t clean my room bueno enough.”

Mom: “Ashton! No, you can’t say stuff like that! You guys can act rich without being racist!”

(Silence)


GPS Lady: “Now drive to the end of the road, and take the Ferry.”

Everyone: “What?”


The actual picnic experience can’t effectively be put into words. Basically, Dad discussed Chinese restaurants with every seemingly Asian-looking person at the party, Mom somehow won a massive pair of sunglasses, which were subsequently stolen by a little kid, Ashton terrorized the Bounce House, Nicky got harassed by a magician, then plotted exactly how Rowlf would go about eating all of the little children at the party, then somehow broke the entire playground, and I stole a bunch of food and smuggled it home. Go Us!

The Paycheck

So, the University of Michigan gave me a rash. No joke. Allow me to explain:

For some reason, my last paycheck from my school job didn’t go through and I didn’t get paid for my final two weeks. Unfortunately, by payday, I was already home in California, my rent check was already at the landlord’s in Ann Arbor, and the nearest TCF bank was 2000 miles away, so I couldn’t easily make a deposit. When I contacted the payroll people about it, they said it “errored out,” and they would fix it. After nothing happened, I called them again, and they said it “errored out” again because of some financial aid issue. Ultimately, I got paid 3 hours after my rent check was cashed, earning me a hefty $33 fee!

Meanwhile, I was at home preparing to interview for some summer jobs. My dad took my nice clothes to the dry-cleaners, and I only had one chance to go pick them up before my interview. Alas, my parents didn’t leave me any money to pay for it, and I didn’t have any money in my bank accounts (thanks to Michigan Payroll). Bottom line is, I couldn’t get my dry-cleaning. For my interview, I had to borrow one of my dad’s shirts, which he picked up a few days before from the other, “organic” dry cleaner store since the normal dry cleaners had only just reopened following their Store-On-Fire-Clothes-Went-Up-In-Flames debacle from a few months ago. Whatev.

Apparently, the “organic” dry-cleaned clothes had some nasty reaction with my skin, and I got a rash across my arms and shoulders. Sucks.

So because I didn’t get paid, my rent check bounced…And I was charged a $33 fee. And I couldn’t afford dry-cleaning. And I didn’t have any money to buy my Ohio State Football Tickets from the band before they ran out. And I have a rash.

Thanks, Michigan Payroll. You Rock.