There was a calm worry in the air. Smiles on faces hiding nervous eyes. Michigan, the blue blood football school, versus the looked-passed Pac 12 champion Washington. Michigan fans were here on a business trip, their third time in a row visiting the college football playoff, today was supposed to be the day. Washington fans reminded me of puppy dogs at a dog park, not really sure what to do, walking around talking to other Huskies, just happy to be there.

The fans filed to their seats, bizarrely quiet before kickoff. No talking, just nervous knees bouncing and tiny fingernail bite-offs falling to the floor. Everything changed when the teams were announced, fireworks popped off, creating a cinematic mist into the air. The lights blasted through the smoke like the sun shining through a civil war battlefield, but the battle was only set to begin.

There was no cheap seat at NRG stadium, the lowest price being around 1,000 dollars if you weren’t a student. So, we ventured up to the tallest heights and found our seats. Watching from the top row of the stadium allowed for a heavenly type view. It was as if I was on Mt. Olympus watching as gladiators prepared for the fight of their life. Like I was watching the game on the biggest TV known to man. The players move in slow motion from that height, each move seemingly planned out by some divine plan. Their faces, names, feelings all blur when you’re at that height, they become pawns in a massive chess board.

Then we can talk about the fans to my side. The only way to see the real fans of a team is to go to the top. The ones sacrificing a vacation week for one game: The Game. Mizzy, an Arkansas older women fallen in love with the Huskies, was a rival all day. My brother sitting to my right, a huge Wolverine fan, had his own battle with her. She had the feel of a sweet southern hippy grandmother, but that façade quickly faded away when the game began.

“I’d love to visit Arkansas one day,” I said to her.

“Don’t come” she replied in a dirty southern drawl. “We don’t want you.”

Kickoff.

Imagine sitting in the middle of a psychedelic ocean, purples, yellows, blues forming the waves around you. the crashing of the tide coming from each person’s mouth. Swallowing you entirely into pure college football madness. Back the tide went, forward it crashed down. Each person’s hope hanging on the edge of each wave, crashing into each other forming an inescapable boom with each play.

Michigan jumps out to an early lead.

The cheers are ringing louder, each Washington fan holding onto the arms of their chair as if their grip could hold back the Wolverines. The plays all devolved in front of our eyes with such grace, even with all the cheers from the top row, the game seemed quiet when a play was in motion. It felt as if the steps of the cleats could be heard, like watching a practice in an empty basketball gym. A magic trick.

Crash. The purple wave strikes back. Mizzy’s fork tongue points out toward us.

“Goooooo Huskies.”

“Hoo, Hoo, Hoo, Hoo.”

The Huskies chants ringed out after a touchdown. Trapped in the kennel and the dogs were hungry.

Halftime was necessary after walking the tight rope of a championship game. The sea had settled for a moment, sunshine after a stormy night, but the storms never end when trapped in the ocean.

Halftime over.

Penix interception, the Michgan fans stamped the game, “It’s over,” they said. “we’re champs”

Michigan’s team seemed larger, stronger, more determined, destined. This was their game and they asserted their will in the second half, breaking out of the close ball game and finding the nice shores of a championship. It was sweet, but the after math was surprising.

There was no after-party, no dancing in the streets. A heavy rain poured outside dampening any prospects of a large gathering. It was a new city for many, they didn’t know where to go, many stuck around in the stadium for hours after and that’s when the strange face of winning exposed itself to me. It had been 27 years since Michigan won a national championship and the fans could feel it. At face value, everyone was happy, cheerful, overjoyed, but after sitting in those cheers and embraces I felt something on the opposite side of the spectrum. I felt sadness. A feeling that maybe this will never come again. Maybe our coach is going to leave, maybe our best players will go to the NFL. “Why couldn’t we just keep playing and playing until we lose” That was the sentiment I felt. Having never been around an undefeated champion it never occurred to me that the winning may be the ultimate down slope. After the end of the game, everything changes. That season you spent so much of your energy on is gone. In some ways it reminded me of life. We all want an ending, a permanent ending, a definite stopping. Losing provides that final stamp, just like death gives us our final stamp. Maybe in some ways we want to lose in the end, that way we know just how far we can go. Without that final loss, it feels as if you didn’t reach your full potential. Maybe I’m a butthurt Notre Dame fan, but maybe that’s just nature. Without that final loss, we’re not entirely sure what to celebrate. The danger of never losing was that you don’t know the ending, it seems someone forced it to tend. In some ways there’s great power to that, in others its maddening and sad. You might as well enjoy that process because maybe that winning, in the end, won’t be as sweet as the journey that took you