An open letter to Michigan

Dear Michigan,

Hey. How are you? Okay, enough small talk. Let's get right to it. You don't like us; we don't like you. This is nothing new. We've been fighting this war since 1897, and I don't see it ending anytime soon.

And why would it end? The only ways to stop a war are through complete victory or peace, and we all know that peace ain't happening anytime soon. What, are we supposed to just stop singing We Don't Give A Damn For The Whole State of Michigan? That would be a lie, though, because we don't, and we're not just going to start. Woody Hayes didn't push his car over the line to later push it back.

Complete victory doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon, either. You can't take us down, and we can't get Canada to absorb your whole stupid mitten state into Ontario. That's right, Michigan. Even Canada doesn't want you. (We would make East Carolina an actual state to keep the 50 stars, for those wondering.)

So where does that leave us? We cannot resolve this conflict, and so we're forced to engage in it year after year, player after player, coach after coach. We save it for the end of the regular season, because it's all that really matters in the end. Why are coaches like Woody and Tressel remembered so fondly while others like Cooper leave a bad taste in your mouth? It's because, here in Columbus, it all comes down to this.

Sure, there are other things at stake here. Postseason rankings, a possible Big Ten East title, Heisman hopes, a possible Meyer-Harbaugh feud, all of these things are there, and they're important, but not quite as important as those little golden pants.

See you in the Big House, Michigan. I hear it's really ugly.

Sincerely,
Ohio State