Book 47: Endzone

Endzone: The Rise, Fall, and Return of Michigan Football

John U. Bacon

I think that every college football fan, regardless of allegiance, would admit that it's been somewhat difficult to be a Michigan fan lately. For better and worse, the Wolverines' time in the wilderness has coincided with the beginning of my own devotion to the maize and blue. It is thus with a mix of emotions that I approached Endzone, John U. Bacon's chronicle of the post-Rodriguez era at my beloved alma mater, a period that would come to be characterized by athletic director Dave Brandon's outsize ego. Bacon wisely opens with a brief but thorough history of Michigan's athletic department, including the origins and evolution of some of its most honored institutional traditions. While it would have been easy to assume, probably correctly, that his audience would already be familiar with everything from Michigan's status as a top academic and athletic university to the concept of a "Michigan Man", Bacon instead lays the groundwork that is so essential to understanding how deeply Brandon betrayed the fanbase and how effectively he turned tens of thousands of fans against him in such a relatively short span of time.

As a devoted Michigan fan who closely followed the events of Endzone as they occurred, I found it somewhat painful to revisit some of the program's lowest moments. Losing the bowl streak and all but a single game to Ohio State were bad enough, but Brandon's influence resonated far beyond the football field. I felt myself shaking with anger while reading about all of the longtime athletic department employees who suddenly found themselves unwanted or emotionally incapable of surviving under his cutthroat leadership; the remarkable institutional memory developed over half a century or more evaporated almost immediately, and that is something that cannot be simply or quickly recovered- if it is even possible to do so. Worse still are the stories of coaches pushed out despite respectable results and a positive atmosphere around their programs. Even after living through all of this the first time, I found myself occasionally shocked and often disgusted by many of the book's revelations, not least by the pettiness that seemingly characterized so much of Brandon's reign and the ease with which he casually discounted and discarded any opinions that weren't his own.

In his book, Bacon consistently does what Brandon continually failed to do: he examines the greater context and examines the evidence within it before suggesting a conclusion. While Bacon's intentions to tell a complete and relatively unbiased story are evident from the start, his attention to narrative detail isn't replicated in the book's copy editing. I hesitate to fault him for the errors that plague the book, from minor punctuation and spelling errors to entire sentences repeated next to one another, but they do detract from the reading experience and, more vitally, from the biased reader's sense of smug satisfaction upon discovering that Dave Brandon's would-be fairytale castle has an unnecessary possessive apostrophe (one of my personal pet peeves). Nonetheless, the coherent narrative structure and Bacon's general attention to detail make Endzone a remarkably pleasant reading experience, particularly for a nonfiction book.

Moreover, Bacon knows exactly how to weigh and balance anecdotes, opinions, and facts. Given his personal history with the Wolverines and the particular details of this story, the book's even-handedness is its finest achievement; Bacon could have easily slid into vindictive invective against Dave Brandon but operates with considerable restraint even when unmistakably condemning him. The stories coming out of South Campus have been remarkably consistent, and Bacon is careful to avoid libel, carefully documenting his sources and tempering their more outlandish claims. The interspersed segments detailing Will Hagerup's personal experiences with Brandon may initially seem misplaced and oddly specific, but it gradually becomes clear that Bacon includes Hagerup's experience as a counterpoint to the prevailing anti-Brandon sentiments of his various sources: there simply isn't much evidence in support of Brandon.

Tempting as it may be for the emotionally involved reader to turn away from Endzone, the Wolverine faithful can take comfort in the fact that the book does have a happy ending. As painful as it is to revisit the department's various embarrassments, it is equally (if not more) heartening to read about students, former players, and fans of all kinds coming together to oust the imposter and restore order. Michigan's successful pursuit of Jim Harbaugh forms a fitting coda to the book, a demonstration of the fierce power of a passionate group united by their unwavering belief in a set of principles and their desire to restore a beloved program to greatness. That may seem melodramatic, but few spectacles are as impressive as witnessing over 100,000 people cheering in unison, or waiting with a single bated breath for the ball to sail through the air, under the lights, and land in the arms of a waiting receiver clad in Michigan's traditional blue home jersey. I have felt the palpable power of fandom, and the groundswell of support for the program in the wake of arguably the worst stretch in its history is a remarkable phenomenon and, again, an appropriate ending for the book as Michigan fans finally begin to look forward with more than the tentative, automatic hope that characterizes most preseason fan bases.

All told, John Bacon's exploration of Michigan's recent troubles and, we can only hope, the beginnings of a new foundation of hope offer many lessons within and beyond the realm of big-time college athletics. Similar struggles play out daily across an increasingly incentivized marketplace that prioritizes profit over passion. At Michigan, fans felt marginalized throughout Dave Brandon's tenure, and resisted fiercely as the formerly charismatic chairman sought to undermine the very values that led them to the Wolverines in the first place. It is a story that resonates far beyond its stated scope and one that provides potentially valuable lessons applicable throughout the real world. As it turns out, Endzone is about far more than one program's recent history, striking instead at the heart of modern economic culture and the wars between thriving organic communities and the cold, calculating corporate machines who would destroy it all for a quick buck; what a relief, then, that Michigan fans' passion carries the day.

Grade: A

Book 11: Dream House

Dream House
Valerie Laken

Due to its vivid Ann Arbor setting and the fact that it was blurbed by a former professor of mine, it is incredibly difficult for me to give this book an entirely fair shake, so I'll attempt to get my most biased comments in during this first paragraph. It's extremely odd to read a book set in a city I have come to know so well, often with areas and landmarks that I see almost every day, and while most details were drawn directly from life (including street names), the street that holds the book's pivotal setting doesn't actually exist. This, coupled with a tendency to thinly veil certain locations (LeMar's instead of Meijer when Wal-Mart is mentioned just half a page later, and groan-inducing pun Frontier High as a stand-in for Pioneer), made the reading process go a bit less smoothly for me. When I realized that Laken had renamed the high school a mile away from me, I had to set the book down and actually laugh at the audacity of the new name. Additionally, it's especially painful to read blistering social commentary aimed directly at your neighbors and yourself. Perhaps this speaks to my own priveliged position, but it seems like it's laid on thick at times, and when it comes to Ypsilanti and Eastern, Laken can be quite scathing (but perhaps, after all, she's right). It's impossible not to be biased when a town you know intimately and love is so vividly portrayed, but Laken does a good job using Ann Arbor to examine racial and socioeconomic residential patterns of the past two decades; I'm not sure that readers unfamiliar with the area will get the full picture as well, but for those in the know Laken paints a fairly accurate portrait.

That said, this book is rather ambitious for its relatively small size, and its high aspirations often overshadow its actual accomplishments. Laken is torn between writing a novel about a priveliged white couple whose marriage is falling apart and a scathing portrait of residential inequality personified by the struggles of a disadvantaged black man to maintain the American Dream his father began to build. The book is all about building and centers around a house and a grisly crime committed therein; though all of its characters belong in a web of connections centering on this hub, their interactions often feel forced and unrealistic. Additionally, the first portion of the book (after its prologue) revolves entirely on two characters, only to branch out awkwardly later. Point-of-view shifts are often jarring and confusing, particularly after one character's story continues long after he has seemingly severed his connections to the house. The book does its job as an in-depth character study of two, maybe three people, but their stories could have been juggled with a better view toward the whole. This effect is achieved a few times near the end of the book where the point of view shifts as with a camera angle in a scene, but the beginning of the book feels disjointed both in its distinct parts and the second half that follows.

That said, however, Dream House is an interesting character portrait that quite adeptly tackles the American ideal of home ownership, especially timely since the economy has tanked and foreclosures are on a meteoric rise. Its characters and setting are vivid and believable, even if their situations often are not (though if Pioneer teachers really break in and throw a party, I am totally changing my career path). The book's conclusion is fitting in retrospect but still feels forced as it plays out in real time (and animal lovers beware, I'm still pissed that she kills the dog). Dream House is filled with not-so-subtle social commentary that occasionally veers into Obvious Hammer territory but which is often insightful and thought-provoking. Laken takes a considerable risk making none of her characters entirely likeable, but that risk pays off as they become even more intriguing and real because of their far-too-human flaws. Despite its occasional missteps and larger plotting awkwardness, Dream House is a page-turner that I devoured in about three sittings. It is, at times, extremely gripping and provides a great portrait of disaffected but not-too-cynical suburban malaise without succumbing entirely to cliche. Its writing is fresh and crisp and happily readable despite its litfic overtures. Dream House is an unforgiving and refreshingly new view of the American Dream and some of its less-noted ramifications through recent decade.

Grade: B+