Wisconsin Hate
I’ve noticed in the buildup to this week’s opener against Wisconsin, there’s a sentiment among Bama fans online that Wisconsin is an opponent they’re reluctant to hate, that they kind of respect and even like the school, that in another life, they could have been Wisconsin fans if only things had broken differently. Wisconsin plays smash-mouth football centered around a strong running attack and a stout defense. Wisconsin beat Auburn last year. Wisconsin likes beer, brats and cheese. Ryan Browne and BJ Hollars live in Wisconsin, and they are two of the best humans you know.
I am here to tell you that Wisconsin is not your friend. It’s not the cool kid a year ahead of you who picked you up and drove you to school so you wouldn’t have to ride the bus as a sophomore. It’s not that girl you were extra good friends with in college, the one who you never thought about dating but really you did.
Wisconsin wants you to like Wisconsin without making it a big thing. Don’t fall for it.
As a Minnesota kid who grew up in the Brett Favre era and then went to school in Chicago, Wisconsin (school, state, lifestyle) was always just kind of there, right beyond the edge of our cities, with that slightly smug superiority.
A whole generation of male Vikings fans (I know … my complaint against the University football team is becoming muddled … stick with it) came of age with their moms and sisters and cousins switching sides and rooting for Brett Favre because they wanted to make things interesting, rile up the household by buying that green and gold #4 jersey, flirt a little with the enemy. They had unwittingly joined a cult with bottomless self-righteousness. They are true believers that their team is just kind of … better. And what’s worse, you kind of start to agree with them … the town owns the team, not some billionaire … the state has nothing else but woods and Arby’s and cheese …
Don’t do it.
Then at Northwestern (the B1G’s Vanderbilt), yes we had a chip on our shoulder for all the big state schools (except poor hapless Indiana, who even we could regularly crack over the head), but Wisconsin was the closest, and they were just good enough that we had to fear them, but just bad enough that we felt we were in it, up until we knew we weren’t. A comfy foe …
Stop it.
Wisconsin is full of state troopers who give you $300 speeding tickets for going 72 on the Interstate. Wisconsin is run by Barry Alvarez, who looks like Anakin Skywalker when he stops being Darth Vader and is just an old man. I’m pretty sure Wisconsin sent Brett Favre to Minnesota as a sleeper agent, knowing he would get us to a championship game and then blow it. Wisconsin tried to force Scott Walker on the rest of us (luckily failing). Wisconsin are the badgers, and every sensible person knows he should keep his guard up against badgers, honey or otherwise.
Are these valid complaints? Not really. And that’s what’s so damn annoying about Wisconsin — you can’t even form a good argument against it, and it knows this. Have you ever met someone from Wisconsin? Didn’t you kind of suspect they were probably a better person than you? More wholesome. But not pushy about it.
This is why I want to break Wisconsin on the football field. Not beat it in a close game where both sides respect each other. Break. Break. Break Wisconsin. Give me definitive resolution. What I couldn’t even accomplish in this post.
34–10 Bama.
