So, that 2017 Big Ten Football Championship. Yeah, I remember that one. Ohio State versus Wisconsin. Big game, for sure. But for me, it wasn’t just about the final score or who got the trophy. Nope. That game, for me, was kinda like a survival project. Sounds a bit over the top, right? Stick with me.
I didn’t just casually flip on the TV. Oh no. I went full-on mission mode. My apartment, which wasn’t exactly spacious, was supposed to become Lucas Oil Stadium, or at least a very, very tiny corner of it. The whole nine yards. You’re probably thinking, “Dude, why? Just order a pizza.” Well, things were a bit rough back then.
See, a couple of months before that championship game, I got the news. You know, the “we’re restructuring” talk, which is just a fancy way of saying “you’re out.” Yeah, lost my job. Just like that. One day you’re swamped with work, the next you’re carrying a cardboard box with a droopy plant and a stapler. It knocked the wind outta me, for real. Suddenly, I had all this time and a big ol’ serving of uncertainty. Fun times.
So, this game? It became my focus. My ridiculous, all-consuming, maybe slightly unhinged, focus. It was something to plan, something to control, when everything else felt like it was spinning away. I figured, if I couldn’t be at the actual game, I’d bring the game to me, with bells on.
My “practice,” as I started calling it in my head, began way before kickoff.
- The Food Offensive: This was serious business. I researched. For Wisconsin, it had to be proper beer brats, simmered just right. And cheese curds, obviously. For Ohio State, I decided to tackle Buckeyes – those peanut butter and chocolate things. From scratch. Let me tell you, my kitchen looked like a disaster zone for a good two days. There was a close call with some molten chocolate, but we persevered.
- Atmosphere Engineering: This was key. I dug out every single piece of college memorabilia I owned. Old t-shirts became wall hangings. I even tried to make some sad-looking streamers in team colors. My cat, Mittens, was deeply unimpressed with the new interior design. She just judged me from the top of the bookshelf.
- Sound Immersion (Attempted): I wanted the roar. I had this idea to sync up crowd noise on my old laptop with the TV broadcast. It… sort of worked. Sometimes it was just a weird echo, other times it felt like a very small, very confused crowd was in my living room.
When game day finally rolled around, I had my spread laid out. Brats were sizzling (not burnt!), Buckeyes were… well, they looked like Buckeyes, mostly. I had my team colors on. And it was pretty much just me and Mittens, who had decided the safest place was under the bed by then.
So, what was the point of all this? Was it like being in Indianapolis? Not even close. Did my team win? Honestly, by the third quarter, the score felt secondary. The real win for me was just getting through those weeks. That whole ridiculous setup, the cooking, the decorating – it was something to pour my energy into, something that wasn’t about job applications or worrying about the rent.
It sounds a bit daft, I know. Making such a fuss over a football game when life’s throwing punches. But sometimes, you just gotta find something, anything, to grab onto. That championship game, and my silly, over-the-top celebration for one, was my little homemade raft in a stormy sea. It didn’t solve my problems, not by a long shot. But for a few hours, I made my own noise, ate my own (slightly imperfect) food, and felt like I’d accomplished something. And sometimes, that’s all you need to keep going.
Ever since then, big games are still fun, but I don’t think I’ll ever try to recreate a stadium in my living room quite like that again. That was a special kind of crazy, born out of a special kind of circumstance. But hey, I got a decent Buckeye recipe out of it, so there’s that.