The University of Michigan has released drawings of the proposed renovations to Michigan Stadium. Take a look before you continue reading.

My first reaction was one of surprise. The proposed structures are huge. I did not expect small additions, but the drawings are larger than I had imagined.

As structures, they are attractive. They are modeled after other classic structures on campus, like Yost Ice Arena, and as such they are good-looking.

But if I may be repetitive for a moment, they’re big. They’re extraordinarily prominent. In a relative sense, they are nearly as subtle as Oregon’s highlighter-yellow uniforms.

One of the great charms of Michigan Stadium is its simple understated design. From the street, the stadium is actually underwhelming; from the inside, the stadium is just a mass of humanity and the sky. The addition of those two major structures to the east and west sides would be not just an evolutionary renovation, but a major shift in the stadium’s character.

I am not opposed to any addition of structures, but this proposed addition would essentially introduce a new stadium. That sort of change should not be taken lightly, and it should not occur without thorough input from those who fill the seats on a regular basis. If the general fan base accepts this sort of proposal, then I will not quarrel with it; I would be wasting my breath. But if the regents forge ahead with their plan despite substantial opposition, then I will have a quarrel with the regents.  This renovation should be approved by the fans who want to fill benches, not by the few who could afford the proposed suites.
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The university says:
“In fact, since its construction by Fielding Yost in 1927, the Stadium has undergone many major changes and renovations. In 1949 it was expanded from 85,000 to 95,000 seats, and in 1956 it was renovated again to a capacity of more than 100,000. In 1957 the current press box was added. Each of these projects meant major changes to the appearance of the Stadium.”

Comparing simple capacity expansions to this renovation doesn’t work. The expansions changed the stadium by making it larger; from the inside, it was still a big bowl.

If you have fifteen minutes, listen to this segment of The Sports Inferno, a sports radio talk show on Detroit’s 1270 WXYT. It’s worth your time. It features Mike Valenti addressing the problems of the Michigan State University football program after MSU’s dismal fourth-quarter collapse against Notre Dame.

No, that description was too sterile. He did not address the program’s problems; he tore the program to shreds. It was not the dispassionate analysis of a media observer; it was the overflowing emotion of a passionate fan who happens to host a radio talk show. He had been getting more and more disgusted by the wasted potential and bad losses accumulated by the Spartans, and the devastating loss to Notre Dame finally brought him to a boil. A tangible, powerful, irrepressible boil.

So Valenti boiled. He ranted for fifteen minutes straight. His co-host tried to interrupt him when his voice began to fail, and he refused to stop. His co-host tried again a few minutes later when his voice became even more hoarse, and he very pointedly told his co-host to let him finish. He left no doubt that he would let no one stop him from saying what he needed to say.

Clearly, it was just that: a need. The depth of emotion in his voice and in his words demonstrated beyond any doubt that he did not simply want to express his opinions; he needed to speak his piece. He needed not just to speak his mind; he needed to speak his heart.

And it was his heart that spoke for fifteen minutes. That was unmistakable. He expressed his deepest outrage at the failings of the MSU football program, but he could not have done it out of anger. Anger will make a man do remarkable things, but ultimately, he did not speak in an effort to destroy the program; he shouted himself hoarse in an exhausting effort to expose every crevice of every destructive element within Michigan State football.

What brings a man to that point? Love. Valenti loves Michigan State football.

Some may hesitate to assign that emotion and action to football, either because it doesn’t seem to fit the violently competitive nature of the sport or because they believe sports aren’t important enough to love; neither is true. A shallow fondness does not cause a man in Valenti’s position to break character, shut down his co-host, expose raw emotions and hit every last nerve he could hit; mere pleasant associations do not evoke a passionate point-by-point denunciation of a program’s failings, from the head coach down to the last walk-on player. It’s not the love one person can feel for another — such love should be on an entirely different level — but as Valenti demonstrated, it is love, and in some ways it can be nearly as deep.

That love was deep enough for Valenti to stand by the Spartans through disappointment after disappointment, and it was deep enough that he could no longer bear to watch that football program — his football program — self-destruct. He had to speak, he had to do what he thought would help salvage the program, and he did so with a level of passion not often witnessed in any venue for any reason. He did not observe the program’s failings as a bystander; he experienced them as offenses against a close personal friend. That has to be love. Any lesser word would be inadequate in the face of the emotion in his vehement words and in his failing voice.

And that is what makes college football such a beautiful sport.

On Saturday, Miami and Florida International decided to dedicate their game to Don King.  In the middle of the third quarter, a huge brawl erupted; to end the melee, a number of police officers were forced to intervene.  The immediate result was the ejection of thirteen players; the end result was the suspension of thirty-one players.

Most interesting in this incident was not the fight — after the Pistons/Pacers fight, these things are fairly pedestrian — but the attitudes of the Miami players.  The general consensus seems to be that FIU players both did their part to provoke Miami and started the fight itself, and they should be held responsible for their actions.  But to listen to the Hurricanes, you’d think they were innocent bystanders, not full participants.

“It’s something they started, and our guys finished it,” Kyle Wright proclaimed.  “It’s not our fault,” Kenny Phillips insisted; “Whatever it was, it wasn’t us.”

Even forgetting Miami’s sordid thug history, consider recent history.  While FIU delivered the first blows in the Florida fracas, Miami’s behavior continues to contradict its public image improvements.  Even as the university seeks to clean its football reputation, the Hurricanes have been involved in two fights in the last seven games, and three in the last year.  They even had a near-fight in another game this season; prior to their game at Louisville, Miami players made a grand show of stomping on the logo at midfield.

Further, their behavior in the FIU game hardly demonstrated maturity.  After a short touchdown pass, James Bryant pointed at the FIU bench and took a theatrical bow toward the stands.  His behavior drew a well-deserved flag, and it also likely inflamed the apparently volatile FIU players even more.

If this had been an anomaly, Miami would have room to plead innocent.  But three fights and one near-fight in one year do not allow the football program to claim higher moral ground.  The character of the program and its players is shown on the field; on Saturday, the Hurricanes showed something.

Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t character.

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On that theme, here’s the startling statement of the day, from a USA Today article:

“Why is it bad? I really don’t understand. I think it’s good. It gets people to watch football more,” said Sara Cass, 19, a Miami student from New York City. “I mean, maybe it wasn’t the best way of approaching it, but a spark has been created and maybe this will help the team.”