There’s a very special thing going on at Northwestern these days. It began my freshman year and it’s something my fellow seniors can attest to. It’s the notion that we are no longer overachieving underdogs in a dog-eat-dog conference like the Big Ten. It’s that we are now legitimately relevant in the college football landscape, and we’re here to stay.
Or are we?
The blustery talk about NU’s rising star was backed by an oft-discussed marketing blitz, heralding Northwestern as “Chicago’s Big Ten Team,” and for a while, pretty much everyone picked up on the craze. Ask anyone who’s been to a yesteryear game where attendance was paltry at best. The recent crowds have been impressive, but Northwestern alumni and students are a fickle bunch. We’ll pack it all up for the Rose Bowl bandwagon, but if the wheels start falling off, we’re getting the heck out of dodge. A 5-0 record entering Saturday night’s contest wasn’t anything new –- it happened back in 2008 -– but for a school still trying to buck the loser label, it validated our confidence. Northwestern is for real.
Sure, we could very well be 3-2, if a few flags or plays hadn’t gone our way, but isn’t that evidence of a good team? After all, perfection is hard to dispute. And for generations of Wildcats who have suffered the indignation of loss after blemishing loss, being co-kings of the hill this fall seemed like a clique we could get used to. We could rule.
We were the swashbuckling badasses that went into every single game with an extra bullet in the chamber. And somehow, we’d find a way to win and break the other team’s spirits doing it. Think about it. If you’re the other team, wouldn’t you sweat a little bit if you weren’t blowing out Northwestern? Wouldn’t you start thinking that something was terribly wrong? And then the final score would validate your growing fears. Winning close games was our specialty.
So we ignore things like close victories where we didn’t play a full 60 minutes. We blow off the fact that we have a weak running game or that we don’t have a dominating defense. Never mind muffing punts and kickoffs. Disregard penalties. Don’t believe the fear because we’re 5-0.
As fans, that’s what we bought into. We could win by any means. We could blow you out or crush your spirits. We are Cthulhu, Medusa -– we are Charon, and we welcome you to Death.
On Saturday night, I saw a purple society rankled with the notion that we could lose in such humiliating fashion. I saw previously apathetic acquaintances curse out the players, the coaches and the heavens for the rash of poor execution. These are people who probably couldn’t point out Ryan Field on the map nary two years ago. And I hope for our solidarity that they continue their support despite their inflated expectations.
I believe that a 20-17 loss to Purdue isn’t going to ruin this season. But I also believe that this loss should dispel the Northwestern myth that we are destined to score the go-ahead touchdown and stave off a last-gasp field goal for the victory every single time. Because, in the most ironic of fashions, that was how we lost.