FAREWELL TO THE MICHIGAN PANTHERS

Let’s be real, this article could have probably been written 10 weeks ago, when James Larsen first announced that four UFL teams were going to be relocated, including the Michigan Panthers. James is rarely, if ever, wrong. He’s a great journalist who doesn’t go public with announcements until he’s certain. But still, I tried to hold out hope. 

 

Like a true Michigander, I found every excuse and reason possible to believe that he got this one wrong. There was no official announcement from the league. The Panthers just made it to the championship game 3 months prior. We were the only team to see an attendance increase in the league, and not just a small increase, but a 43% increase. Ford Field was too expensive, sure, but Rynearson Stadium was less than an hour away and would be less than half of the cost. Our fanbase is passionate. Jake Bates, the biggest UFL to NFL success story thus far, had come from the Michigan Panthers. Surely all of these reasons would sway the UFL into finding a way to keep the Panthers in Michigan. 

 

However, it was not to be. On October 3, the UFL made the official announcement I had been dreading. Michigan, along with Memphis and San Antonio, were going to be relocated. My heart sank. Not just because I was a fan of this team, but because the Michigan Panthers had become the single biggest source of pride in my life. 

 

Covering sports(football in particular) in an official, credentialed capacity has been a dream of mine for a long time. I don’t often set goals and pursue dreams because if I don’t achieve them, the pain is so much worse than wondering what might have been. If I don’t go for the dream, I can’t fail at reaching it. It's still a possibility. It’s left in a state of purgatory that I’ve grown oddly comfortable with. Schrödinger’s Dream, if you will. 

 

When Rob Williams started BCP+ and invited me to come along for the ride, I thought "Sure, I’ll write about the Raiders and occasionally WWE from the safety of my home, and it’ll be a fun little thing to do once a week, with no real stakes other than allowing me to scratch my writing itch.” 

 

Well, the next spring, everything changed. The XFL and USFL had merged to become the UFL, and Kelvin Kately, a fellow BCP+ writer and one hell of a good guy, got ambitious and reached out to the Arlington Renegades to see if he could cover them officially for our growing little site. Arlington accepted and I couldn’t help but be a tad jealous. Kelvin was going to get this great opportunity, why couldn’t I? 

 

Why? Because I haven’t asked, that’s why. Inspired and terrified, I reached out for media credentials of my own. Sure enough, I was accepted as well. I was thrilled, but the thrill quickly gave way to my #1 enemy in life, Imposter Syndrome. 

 

“You’re not good enough to do this. You don’t have the experience. You don’t even have a tripod or a laptop or any of the things real journalists have. They’re never going to call on you for a question. If they do, you’re going to ask something stupid and they’ll all realize what a mistake they made by letting you in the door.” These were the things running through my head constantly, especially as the first game drew near. Imposter Syndrome sucks.

 

The fears were compounded when, on the day of the first game, pretty much everything that could go wrong did indeed go wrong. I was running late, where I parked was WAY further from Ford Field than I first thought. It was raining and I was wearing a suit that was definitely too tight. I went to the wrong gate, found out I had to walk as far as possible to get to the right one. I tried to take a shortcut and found out I had somehow gotten myself into an enclosed space that would double my arrival time if I had to walk all the way back around. 

 

All the while, the imposter in my head kept saying “go back, go home. This is all a sign that you don’t belong. You’re wet, you look horrible, see how out of place you are?” But somehow, I pushed through. I jumped a rather tall gate, sprinted in my now-wet suit and got to the right door. 

 

I got my official pass and 10 minutes later I was standing on Ford Field, watching a future NFL starter doing practice kicks. Three hours later, I was watching that kicker drill a 64 yard field goal for the win and then asking him about it in the post game press conference, and an hour after that I was home. And I cried. 

 

It was a good cry. They were tears of joy. In my 37 years of life, I had never cried tears of joy. I felt so accomplished and like I finally belonged. I was doing something worthwhile that gave me purpose and filled me with excitement. On that day, the Raiders took a very far backseat. The Michigan Panthers were officially my favorite sports team. 

 

Over the next two seasons, I watched a team who had stunk in the USFL become the darlings of this league. They exceeded all expectations, they got over nearly every obstacle set in their path, and they did it all with grit and determination that Detroit is known for. They were warriors, and I got to be one of the trumpeters telling their tale. 

 

I got to go to St. Louis to watch them play in the first championship game a Michigan pro football team has had since before I was born. I met amazing journalists who were in all stages of their professional career. Peers like me who were just starting out, and seasoned vets writing for the biggest news outlets in the state, and even the nation. 

 

Mike Nolan knew me by name. Matthew Colburn and I had an amazing interview that went WAY over what the allotted time was supposed to be. Bryce Perkins and Malik Turner came to me and dabbed me up in the tunnel after games. The Panthers gave me purpose. They gave me pride. They gave me a belief in myself I never thought I would have. 

 

And now it’s gone. The Panthers will get rebranded and will go to Columbus or Louisville or who the hell knows where, and I like to tell myself I won’t watch, but I probably will. And the whole time I’ll be thinking “that should be here. I should still be a part of that.” 

 

I’ll be bitter, I’ll be angry, I’ll be rooting for the attendance to be abysmal, just so the UFL can realize what a mistake they made. I’ll be hoping Ford Field doesn’t rent their space out for a single one of those Saturdays or Sundays, losing revenue because they refused to negotiate a reasonable rate. 

 

But more than anything, I’ll be sad, as I am right now. Deeply, profoundly sad. I know one day the sadness will turn into nostalgia, and eventually the nostalgia will turn into gratitude. And on that day, I’ll be able to look at the past two years and smile, knowing what a wonderful gift I was given, and how lucky I was to be a part of the journey. 

 

Even with all the sorrow I currently have, there’s still a ton of gratitude I have and need to express. 

 

Thanks to Kelvin and “Yaz” for being my UFL brothers and covering teams and talking a lot of smack with me. 

 

Thanks to Sage Sammons, the Panthers Media Director who always did everything he could to accommodate me and answer my 10,001 weekly questions. 

 

Thanks to Mike Bell, James Larson, Frank Garza, Mike Palko and many others who were in the press conferences with me. 

 

Thanks to Mike Cowan and Brian Taylor and Coen Steenhoek and all the other amazing super fans I met along the way. 

 

Thanks to Mike Nolan and Bryce Perkins and Danny Etling and Jake Bates and Ryan Nelson and Matthew Colburn and PABLO and every last one of the Panthers players who put their heart and soul into this team. May you all continue to have successful careers. 

 

And above all else, thanks to Rob for giving me this platform and this opportunity. I’m certain there are bigger things on the horizon for us all, but if for some strange reason this is the biggest thing I ever do in journalism, it’s all thanks to you. 

 

The dark cloud of this inevitable news has hung over me and prevented me from writing about the NFL or WWE or anything for that matter. I’ll get back on the horse soon enough, I promise. But for now, I need to grieve the Panthers for just a little while longer.