In which Jane Austen encounters Jim Harbaugh.

For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn?

–Jane Austen, Pride & Prejudice

I’ve been doing my altruistic bit in this regard lately, because the swirling gossip—and now, accomplished fact—about the forecasted fate of our football coach (you have no idea how much I wish I could think of an alliterative synonym for “coach”) has provided me with ample opportunity to ask questions that those around me find hilarious. “Jim who?,” for example. Or, “so, does Mississippi State have, like, a really good team?” Following on the heels of my confusion about the Big Chill—turns out they didn’t actually flood the field to make a skating rink, and I just misunderstood or imagined that—this football brouhaha has provided me many opportunities to keep the spirits of my staff nice and high. Winter weather be damned!

But here’s something I do know about football. You can live very happily in Ann Arbor and not care about it at all. So I was intrigued to see this article about the overwhelming dominance of football culture in Columbus; given that Columbus is a state capital, I would have thought there was a critical mass of other activities going on that football would have reasonable competition for attention. I mean, Columbus has a population seven times the size of Ann Arbor, and a smaller stadium (don’t ask me to explain how my insensibility to football can reside side-by-side in my heart with a pride in the size of our stadium. I just can’t), so how can football be a bigger deal there than here? I am left with the suspicion that the author of the article is simply crabby. Now, I like a little bit of crabby, and without question, his diatribe makes for a fun read. But to his grand claim that Football Oppression is just a fact of life for anyone in a city that hosts a Division I college football team, I must issue a demurrer. (That’s a little law talk, people. From, like, the 19th century, in keeping with my Jane Austen theme.)

So let me just affirm this: You can range anywhere between largely oblivious (my current state) and actively hostile (my former state—I seem to recall a footnote on my Bryn Mawr sheepskin requiring the affectation of annoying condescension toward all big-time sports for five years post-graduation) and nonetheless peacefully coexist in a college football town—at least, in this one. And if you can simultaneously be good-natured when you utter the occasional football absurdity, I am pretty sure you get credit for a mitzvah.

-Dean Z. Assistant Dean for Admissions and Special Counsel for Professional Strategies