Love is a Many-Splendored Thing

1:06 AM in snowy East Lansing, Michigan seems as good of a time as any to start rambling about the thing I've loved longer than anything else. From a factual perspective, Clemson defeated Alabama tonight in the College Football Playoff National Championship Game, 35-31, but that doesn't really scratch the surface of what happened.

In my dorm room, there was screaming. I imagine that in living rooms and bars and dens across the country (and the world), there was screaming, of joy for those in orange and white, of terror for those in crimson, and appreciation for neutrals like myself.

There are a multitude of problems with college football: the NCAA is hilariously corrupt, the players give and risk everything for no money, and the coaches are often the highest-paid employees in states that don't properly care for their poor and sick. With that out of the way (and believe me, those takes have come and will continue to come), nothing has brought me more consistent emotion than college football.

The first coherent memory I have is of the 2000 Miami-Florida State game. When Florida State missed it "Wide Right" for the third time in the series, my father picked up my two-year old body and tossed me into the air in celebration. Two years later, he called me from Sun Devil Stadium in Arizona, where he witnessed the Hurricanes get robbed by Terry Porter and lose to Ohio State- I was four, and inconsolable.

In January of 2006, my aunt and I watched Vince Young and Texas come back from the brink to beat USC at the dilapidated Wellesley Inn in Miami. Every time she tried to fall asleep, something good happened for Texas, so I forbade her to watch. After a crucial third-down conversion, she remembers me telling her, "Auntie DaTheresa, we have a legitimate chance!" I was seven, and already superstitious.

In November of 2013, my girlfriend at the time walked into my house seconds before Chris Davis returned Adam Griffith's missed field goal 109 yards to win the Iron Bowl. I remember her and my mom looking at each other wondering why they were with me and my father while we freaked out. "That's historical!" I yelled, high-fiving him. He didn't need to throw me up in the air anymore; I was fifteen and old enough to jump up and down on my own.

Two years later, I watched Jalen Watts-Jackson pick up a blocked punt and beat Michigan with my dad in person. Well, to be honest, I only saw the last few seconds; my view was obscured. In my seventeen years, I had never seen 115,000 people go silent so quickly. Destiny led me to become a Spartan.

I left out lots of games that made me feel. Tonight was just the latest. I sat in my dorm room with my roommate Jack, a great friend and kindred spirit, and screamed "Hunter Renfrow!" as soon as I saw the play begin to develop. This post hasn't had very many X's and O's in it, but I've seen hundreds of short-yardage rub routes, and I know one when I see one. That's an old EA Sports NCAA Football goal-line staple. I am eighteen.

Tomorrow, we can talk about all the very real problems that exist both in college football and the world at large. Tonight, I toast to Dabo Swinney, Deshaun Watson, Hunter Renfrow, Mike Williams, and everybody else from Clemson. I also toast (begrudgingly) to Nick Saban, Bo Scarborough, Jalen Hurts, Ardarious Stewart and the rest of the Crimson Tide.

I also toast to college football as a principle. I've been rambling for nearly an hour, but long live this crazy sport where we all watch 18-22 year-olds chase each other around a field for no money. I'll remember tonight for as long as my mind allows. Soon, I'll be talking about another college football game that made me feel. Until then.