SEPTEMBER 27, 2026 – After a mildly productive and rewarding day yesterday, I plopped myself down in a living room chair to watch the ABC Evening News. During certain episodes of my previous life, watching the network (and PBS) news was a daily routine; back in the day of Walter Cronkite, Eric Severeid, Chet Huntley, David Brinkley, John Chancellor, Frank Reynolds, Harry Reasoner, and Howard K. Smith, Robert MacNeil, Jim Lehrer. The “network news” of today, of course, is a far cry from what it was in yesteryear. Only occasionally do I tune in, much in the way I would pull up a mainstream media source on my iPhone today and scroll through headlines just below blur-speed. The half hour of “network news” today is almost a parody of itself, comprising as it does, a mix of sensationalism and disjointed series of mini-narratives. Rather than dipping through the surface of things, the “network news” zips over stories like a hovercraft on a cushion of air, sending out lateral spray but never touching the water’s surface. Consequently, I only bother tuning in if it’s raining outside or, later in the season, we’re already past nightfall.
Yesterday, there was spit in the air, and by late afternoon the mercury had slackened to below 60F. I closed the book I’m now reading about the demise of the Roman republic and removed myself from the back porch to more hospitable conditions inside. Upon checking the time—5:25—I figured I’d catch the “nightly news” after a long hiatus from having done so.
Instead of news was entertainment: college football; Ol’ Miss vs. the Gators. Bah humbug. I switched to CBS. Iowa vs. Michigan. Bah humbug. I’m not a football fan. In fact, I object to college sports that have grown in attraction to the level of major league sports in a culture so obsessed with the gridiron and the basketball court, that you’d think all the education-related Latin mottos on campus entrance archways have been replaced by the universal slogan, “Rah, rah TEAM!”
On the other hand . . . having just put down my book on Roman history, still on my brain were the “circuses” promoted in ancient Rome; entertainment for the masses, as much to placate hoi polloi as to provide fancy and powerful people with a colorful alternative to their boredom . . . or temporary diversion from their political machinations.
Because some amount of time had passed since I’d last watched any football—a few minutes of last year’s Super Bowl game—I figured I’d allow myself a bit of modern “circus”; a brief diversion from the “political machinations” of our day. Having a closer affinity to the Upper Midwest than to the Deep South, I decided to stick with the Iowa/Michigan game. I tuned in with just under two minutes left on the game clock. Michigan was up by five points, 19 to 14.
Not having any skin in the contest one way or another, I had to flip a mental coin to decide for whom to cheer down to the end of the game. Though I like the University of Michigan colors and during my three years at Interlochen Arts Academy near Traverse City, I spent a few days on campus each December with my fellow orchestra members for performances of the Messiah with the University Choral Union . . . I’ve since grown fond of Iowa jokes, as well as many people from that state who’ve migrated north to Minnesota, not least of whom is my dermatologist, who doubles as a concert pianist. (My favorite joke involving Iowa, however, actually makes fun of New Yorkers . . . Question put to a New Yorker: “How do you spell Iowa?” New Yorker: “O-H-I-O.”) Without further delay or time-outs, the “flipped coin” came down in favor of the Hawkeyes. I proceeded to holler for them—yes, holler, since no one else occupied our house at the time.
As any avid Big Ten football fan knows by now, the game turned out to be a classic down-to-the-wire spectacle. Iowa had possession at the Michigan 16-yard line after an amazing 76-yard drive in 10 plays. With just two seconds on the clock, quarterback Hank Brown took the snap and passed to Reece Vander Zee (gotta love that Dutch name), who caught the ball and dragged his feet across the turf just inside the end zone: TOUCHDOWN! There was no basis for a review of the play, and none was requested.
The home team Michigan student fans were crushed. Early in the final drive, they had had reason to be shouting, “Rah, rah TEAM!” Now, in an instant, the walk off play by Iowa left the Michigan fans dumbstruck.
And who knows, but maybe that kind of game lured me into football fandom. Besides, as it is said, “When in Rome . . .” Won’t my family be surprised . . . when they discover I’ve become . . . a Roman.
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© 2026 by Eric Nilsson
