The Monday After: An Apple Cup for the ages

In Today's Newsletter

• It just means more

• What We Liked: Defense defense defense

• Another Thing We Liked: The offensive line

• Who Impressed: Kyle Williams

• Who Also Impressed: John Mateer

• What Needs Work: Nothing

• Up Next: San Jose State

It just means more

Moments after the final seconds ticked off the clock of a 24-19 Apple Cup victory — which, fittingly, culminated with a Husky DB taking a swing at a Coug for a 15-yard personal foul — NBC’s sideline reporter found Jake Dickert and opened with a standard question: How did you do this?

His response was not standard.

“Grit. Toughness. I love this team,” he said. “They stayed here for this.”

Then, his voice broke — and a few tears started to flow.

“I’m sorry, I’m emotional about it — I love these guys. They love each other. We said we were going to win this game, not because we hated them, but because we loved each other, and that’s what you saw there for four quarters.”

If there is a more perfect way to describe what it means to be a Coug, I have yet to hear it.

As we all know, there’s plenty of (justified) hate to go around to the folks in purple, ergo, I have had an indescribable amount of fun clowning on Huskies for the past 48 hours. Jake has to be classy, but I do not, because I’m just a dumb fan. And I’m leaning hard into that right now.

However, when I think about the bigger picture of the entire situation, I’m not sure anything could be more spot on when describing our relationship to each other.

We won not because we hated them, but because we loved each other.

I shed a lot of tears myself on that field after the game.³ And while I’m pretty sure I’m a man who is more comfortable emoting in public than most, I also am usually not one to uncontrollably cry. A few teardrops as Craig asks me to be his best man? Or as Leon Bender shows up on the Back Home video with a rose in his mouth? Sure. Tears flowing like a fountain as I stand 30 feet from a platform where a trophy is presented, unable to shut off the valve … ?

I mean, I just couldn’t stop. And as I took some deep breaths and tried to compose myself, I attempted to figure out what was going on. Was I really that deeply invested in a freaking football game?

Yes, I was. But more than that: The past 13 months of dread, pain, and anxiety all came to a head in that moment. That is what was pouring out of me. All I could think to say, down on that field, was WE’RE STILL HERE!!!! over and over. It probably sounded very stupid. In fact, I’m quite confident that it sounded very stupid. But in that moment, the fact that we had just proved — again — that we absolutely still belonged, despite getting the absolute shaft because of something as random as a geographical decision made 130 years ago … I dunno, it felt like something worth loudly declaring.

It also was something that was still very much up in the air for the last 13 months, and with only two games on the schedule to prove it, the stakes were high for WSU in this game.

Husky fans showed up in droves expecting to clown “little brother” again, even having the audacity/stupidity to buy resale tickets on the Cougs’ side. Whatever the outcome, the Big Ten schedule was waiting.

We, on the other hand, came in knowing that so much more than that was at stake.

The breakup of the Pac-12 was not just a major bummer for our sports teams; it remains an existential threat to the health of the university. That sounds dramatic, but for real: A ton of our identity as a university is big-time athletics, and dropping down has the potential for real, major ripple effects across campus.¹ A major thing that separates us from them is that we don’t just really like our sports teams — we⁴ first and foremost absolutely and undeniably care about the institution and, by extension, anything associated with it.

Our love includes our sports teams, but it is not defined by it.

It’s why, when we lose an Apple Cup (which has happened a lot!) and I wear my Coug gear to work, I get that quizzical look from a coworker accompanied by, “wow, that’s gutsy wearing that today!” I give them the most quizzical look I can muster right back and say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about — every day is a great day to be a Coug!”

The way we feel about WSU is something they literally cannot understand or fathom, which is why I rarely engage in tit for tat with any of them. All I can think is: I’m sorry, but y’all are mostly a bunch of dorks who throw on purple when it suits you, make excuses when your team pees down its collective leg, and then put your purple away on Sunday so you can grab your 12 jersey and crow when the Seahawks beat the Patriots in OT. And that’s fine! That’s most fans! I went to the Sounders last night, they pounded Sporting Kansas City, and I was very happy.

That said, I did not puff my chest out with Sounders gear at work today. You know what I was wearing.

I’m not saying anyone out there, Huskies included, need to somehow prove their fandom. What I am saying is that when you’ve actually attended the university — WSU in particular because of it’s unique setting — it’s a fundamentally different relationship with the team you are rooting for, and if you haven’t lived this with us, not even an empath of the highest order can hope to even sort of comprehend what the last 13 months have been like for us.

To Huskies, it’s an inconvenience that we are collateral damage in the inevitable march forward of capitalism and college football. Most of the Huskies I know personally have expressed some level of disapproval, while simultaneously shrugging their shoulders: “We had to do it. Sorry you got caught in the crossfire. I guess that’s life.”

The first part is, of course, pure, unadulterated, propagandist bullshit. They absolutely did not have to do this. It was an act of cowardice of the highest order. But they do believe it, just as they believe to their core — whether they are impolite enough to say it to our faces or not — that we are inferior, that on some level we do deserve this, simply for existing in circumstances that are not only out of our control, but virtually unchangeable in lieu of a megadonor who wants to personally fund the athletics department to the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars.

So when I climbed over that railing and worked my way toward the platform, searching for my best friend who had gone before me, all of that was floating around my head.

We know this win doesn’t change a damn thing about our situation, really. The AP poll came out on Sunday, and even at 3-0 as one of the few teams with two P4 wins, we still couldn’t crack the top 25. We’re close, but as we know all too well, what really matters is who they thought you were in August and whether you belong to the correct conference. We’re also still left trying to piece a “Pac-12” back together with the best brands in G5, and it will be very difficult for the rest of the season to get any kind of traction to move up in the polls. We’ll climb very slowly if we can keep winning. Impressive victories will do very little.²

But for one day — one, glorious day — we put one on those assholes, which is why I will continue to float through this season with a smile on my face.

However, that’s not why I was crying on Saturday. As Dickert knew all too well, tears don’t come from hate — they come from love. And I love this university as deeply as anything in my life that isn’t sealed to me with a vow or have my own blood running through it. Washington and the rest of the college football machine will never, ever, be able to take this win away from me, no matter what happens in the coming months.

GFC.

What We Liked: Defense defense defense

When thinking about how this game tilted the Cougars’ direction, there’s plenty of credit to go around. On the offensive side: John Mateer’s legs (and arm!), the play of the line, Kyle Williams’ ability to run past folks … all deserve plaudits.

But c’mon: We know it was the defense that won this game.