N - UdIi 3L id1gnJfaI September3, 1996 COS J. COTSONIKA The Greek Speaks mackinze ou sleep late when the football team is on the road - espe- cially your first year, when the social scene is new and frat parties are cool. You wake up in time for the pre- game show, red-eyed and creaky from staying out late, and watch Michigan on national television. Two years ago, I sat in the third-floor lounge in South Quad's Taylor House. I shuffled down the hall in sweatpants and a T-shirt, dragging my beanbag chair behind me. To my surprise, about 50 people had beaten me to the TV. Michigan was playing Notre Dame. It was the biggest football game of the young season, and I couldn't find a seat on the floor. Everyone from Taylor House was there, and more were piling in. Nobody really knew anyone yet, and though everyone was dressed like they had just rolled out of bed, they were carefully groomed. They wanted to ' k like they had just woken up, but still wanted to look good. We all watched the game and min- gled, scrunched up against each other to make room. Some guy from Baltimore and I started arguing over the quarter- back situation. We ordered pizza. We laughed. We started to make friends. As the game went on, we realized how good it was. Michigan would score, and we would sing "The Vic- tors." Notre Dame would get a first n, and we would boo. Then came the finale. Remy Hamil- ton, Michigan's All-American, had a chance to kick a field goal for the win. The kick went up. It was good. We all stood around each other. The guys stopped hitting on the girls, I stopped arguing about the quarterback, and the pizza got cold. The room cleared out. Somehow we #jI knew where we were supposed to *South U. I grabbed my shoes, tried to pull them on as I ran, and a dorm full of frenzied freshmen emptied. South U was a small riot. The presi- dent of the University was on some- one's shoulders. Lamplights had silly sophomores hanging from them. The police cheered with the delinquents, and everyone sang the fight song. And, standing among hundreds of new faces, wearing the same rags I e to bed, I finally realized what W going on - I was in college. The reality finally hit, and I was as happy as I have ever been. That is what sports at this University can do to you. You don't have to play to get something out of athletics at Michigan. Football, basketball, hockey and all the rest - they unite the student body. They bring together alumni, oth- ers who wish they were, and still others don't even know there is a school Mind the minor-league football team. The Wolverines sell merchandise from Malibu to Miami to Maine, and it certainly isn't the math department that is arousing that spirit. Buy why? Why do people care so much? Why is it such a big deal? It's memories, experiences, friends. When you're screaming "sieve" at Yost Ice Arena with your buddies or c nanting "Go Blue!" at Crisler Arena, forget your exams. The "C" you got in Chem 230 isn't so bad. Maurice Taylor just dunked, Scott Driesbach just threw a touchdown pass, Brendan Morrison just scored a goal, and every- thing is right with the world. The wild nights, the tailgate parties, the championship celebrations. They are as important to college as blue- books and term papers. When you look back at your years at Whigan, you won't mull over that "B3" that could have been an "A." You'll remember the goof-offs you went with to the game. You'll laugh about the road trip to Duke you took even though you had an exam Monday. Vn'11 huv seasnn fnthall tickets. and Hockey team brings home NCAA CUP By Nicholas J. Cotsonika Daily Sports Editor After years of failure and frustration, anger and anguish, the puck finally bounced the right way for Michigan. Brendan Mor rison finally hit the back of the net instead of the goal post. Red Berenson's team finally became the national champions. There were tears this time, too, but for the 1995-96 Wolver ines, moist eyes dripped only joy. "I'm so glad I came (to Michigan)," said forward Bill Muckalt after the game, fighting back sobs. "I'm so proud to be a part of this program, with these guys, with this coach. It's just so special." Michigan defeated Colorado Col- lege, 3-2, in overtime, before 13,330 fans at Cincinnati's Riverfront Colise- um on March 30 to win the Wolver- ines' record eighth NCAA title - but the school's first since 1964. And the parties and the celebrations began. South University Avenue was flooded with fans minutes after Mom- son scored. A sign said simply, "We Won!" A pep rally at Cliff Keen Arena a week later attracted hundreds of ban- Morrison ner-waving Michigan faithful. But the biggest honor of all came May 6. Vice President Al Gore invited the team to the White House for a special commendation. Gore, who played hockey himself in prep school, praised the spirit of the Wolverines in the Indian Treaty Room of the Old Executive Office Building. "It's not how big or talented you are, it's how you compete," Gore said. "This year, no one competed better than Michigan." For many years, however, the Wolverines competed well but watched another team shake hands in Washington. Their win in 1996 was richly ironic. Michigan was bounced from the NCAA tournament in over- time the past three years. The Wolverines lost to Maine in 1993, Lake Superior in 1994 and Maine again in 1995. The breaks never went their way, and the goal they needed never came. "Something about this year was different," said senior Kevin Hilton. "I can't really say what, but something was different." The biggest change might have been Morrison's luck. In the second overtime of last year's semifinal thriller with the Black Bears, Morrison had Michigan's best opportunity to win the game and the title. He hit the post. The memory stayed with him, ringing in his head the "This year, no one competed better than Michigan" - Al Gore Vice President whole season. On March 30, the puck squirted right to Morrison off a rebound. He put it between the pipes to score the winning goal, and he earned a ring that will stay with him for the rest of his life. "When you look back on this, it's incredible," said Morri- son, who was so focused on Michigan's title run, he played with a broken hand for nearly two months. "It seemed like it took forever to go in the net, but it did. It's incredible. Many players said it wasn't as incredible as it seemed. They had a sign above the door in their locker room that read, "Something to Prove." All the talk of ghosts and jinxes moti- vated Michigan to silence the cynics and the critics. "I'm sick of hearing the rumors that we can't win the big game," Muckalt said. "I think we proved them wrong." "The ghosts are gone," goaltender Marty Turco said. No one is more satisfied than Berenson. As long as it took for the puck to go in for Morrison, it took much longer for Berenson to achieve his dream. Berenson didn't win a title in his three years as a Michigan player. After his professional career, he came back to his alma mater to rescue a floundering program. The title win was his 300th victory and the culmination of more than a decade of rebuilding the Wolverines. When Berenson took the Michigan job in 1984, the Wolver- ines finished ninth in the CCHA. Now, 12 years since his start, Michigan finished the season No. I in the nation. And Berenson, a proud, stoic former Stanley Cup champi- on, cried. "There is no comparison (to this)," Berenson said. "I've played on teams that have won big series, but this is much, much better. There is nothing close to it. "I have a momento that sits on my desk that says, 'Our day will come.' We've worked for that day, and we've earned that day, and our day has come." 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