I was privileged enough to receive a tour of the new suites by the University of Michigan’s Vice President of School Spirit, Charles Mellner. When the group meets Mellner, I ask him about the controversy over graduation—the fact that work on the new luxury skyboxes prevented it from being held in the Big House, its traditional venue.
Mellner, a big man with a big laugh, answers with a wide grin. “It was regrettable, but after all there’s a graduation every year. Each and every game is unique, and we’d do our fans a grave disservice if games were delayed.” One can understand why. Season tickets for the boxes start at the price of a fully-loaded luxury sedan.
The entryway is laid with Italian marble, with a grand staircase leading upwards. Mellner begins the tour asking if we recognize it; no one does. I mention that it looks like the staircase on the Titanic; at this, he claps delightedly. “It is! Either an exact replica or the original, raised from the ocean floor and refurbished at incredible expense.” Coyly, Mellner refuses to confirm which.
We’re then led into a standard box, with Second Empire carpeting, inlaid hardwood floors, and leather chairs. Each is equipped with a minibar—domestic and imported liquors are on tap—and a snack bar run by a major franchise—in this case, a Pizza Hut Express. “The boxes provide everything a Wolverine fan could want,” Mellner beams. “Access to the game from a superior viewpoint, and the staff is ready and able to provide a massage or salon treatment on demand.”
Mellner leads us to the front of the box, to a red switch under a lucite cover. “This signals to the field that the occupants want the last play repeated. It’s perfect for when a patron has to go to the bathroom; a comfort that the TiVo generation demands.”
This is trifling compared to the executive suite, which occupies a full floor. Designed to the standards of the Saudi royal family, the suite is pure six-star extravagance. Up the marble staircase and across the onyx flagstones set in a pool of vintage champagne, I ask Mellner about handicap accessibility. How can he justify the suite’s lavish layout when the university’s being sued by Wolverines in Wheelchairs?
“It’s actually not a problem,” Mellner says with an easy laugh. “There are only 16 people on Earth who can afford season tickets to the executive suite, and none are disabled.” I nod. “We think that’ll hold up in court,” he adds, grinning. After all, the people with tickets include the Chief Justice of the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals and 3 members of the House Judiciary Committee.
“Will students be allowed to use the boxes?” I ask.
“We recognize that students have an important role,” Mellner replies. “Namely, they serve to fill out the stands, which helps preserve the sense that one’s in the Big House. Naturally, we can’t allow students in the boxes; might cause our paying customers discomfort.”
Mellner directs me to a series of fire hoses in the stairwell, which are actually for crowd control, to prevent unruly students from storming the boxes, alongside the 50-man uniformed security contingent. In an emergency, all of the service personnel are armed and fully deputized by the city of Ann Arbor.
“That’s for undergraduates, of course,” Mellner smiles. “Most of our graduate students attended other schools before, so they might be spies for another Big Ten team. As such, they’ll be shot on sight—we have a first-class sniper post at the very top!” I beg and cajole, but we aren’t allowed to see it—it’s not done yet. The live fire trials, involving 120 rhesus monkeys over a 6-week period, don’t begin until next month.
“How much did this all cost?” I ask. Mellner regrets that he can’t tell me; the official figure is classified. Tthere’s a bit of mischievous maize and blue in him, though, and he gives me a candid estimate. The budget was drawn from the general fund, meaning that students’ tuition dollars were immediately transformed into building costs. Mellner estimates that around “30,000 to 40,000 students” gave their entire 4-year tuition to fund the construction—an impressive figure, as the university has only about 41,000 students enrolled at any one time.
And how much of the cost of a luxury skybox ticket goes back to academics? “That’s a different fund,” explains Mellner. “The money we make here is rolled back into the program—new uniforms, multimillion dollar coaching salaries, solid gold cleats for All-American players. Standard expenses.”
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 
February 5, 2013
From “Partial Transcript of the 17th Z-Bowl Commentary” by Jacelyn “Bali Mojo” Marina
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: commentary, endzone, fiction, football, humor, nfl, sports, story, zombies |[2] Comments
PLAY-BY-PLAY: It’s the 2nd down and there’s 10 yards to go on the Chicago 30 yard line, with 6 minutes left in the quarter. We just saw Masterson tackled by Tennison on Chicago’s 26, 4 yards lost.
COLOR: Fitz is not happy about that, you can see it on his face.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: There’s Masterson back for the throw. And there go his boys, swept by Detroit. And there goes Masterson himself, sacked by Tennison for the second time in as many minutes.
COLOR: Good day for Detroit and Tennison out there. Man’s writing pure football poetry.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Isn’t he just? Okay, I think that’s the warning siren I hear.
COLOR: That’s right, Jim. Later than usual, but then randomness is part of the game. How long would you say they have? Five minutes?
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Maybe two. I’ve seen it as low as thirty seconds and as high as ten minutes for arenas with a lot of obstacles between the field and the gates.
COLOR: Definitely adds some spice to the game. Looks like Masterson is up again for Chicago.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Yes, he’s in position to make the kick for the final down. Detroit has got themselves set up with Tennison again…there’s the snap. Masterson is through! He’s on the 20, the 15…Tennison struggling to catch up.
COLOR: Aaaaannnnd here come the zombies!
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Three of them between Masterson and the endzone, and two on the field to his right. He pirouettes, goes wide, can’t shake them. Clipped by Tennison, still behind him and, zombies closing in…he’s down! Masterson is down!
COLOR: I count a minute thirty on the clock since the warning siren. One of the better performances by the “third team” in terms of hustle so far this season.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Masterson is down and the ball is fumbled! Looks like Tennison’s going for it while the zombies finish up with what’s left of the Chicago offensive line. He’s got it, but the zombies are on him now…and he’s out of bounds.
COLOR: Looks like he decided to play it safe and settle for possession and twenty-five yards. The refs are clearing the zombies off him with shotguns and putting up the plexiglass. Looks like Chicago just took a time-out, stopped the clock, probably trying to regroup. Tennison’s on fire today.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Isn’t he?
COLOR: He got that interception for the touchdown earlier, and here he’s got the zombies all over Chicago’s best offensive lineman without a scratch himself. I smell an NFC defensive player of the month.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: The month at least!
COLOR: That’s what every defensive lineman wants. Lots of sacks, lots of interceptions, lots of zombie-kills. Sack numbers, interceptions, those are good. But then, when you start getting into the zombie-kill numbers, and the opposing-players-zombified, now you’re talking.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Oscar Earle is back to punt for Detroit. He’s done well against the zombies in other games. Any word from the field on Masterson?
COLOR: Well, to judge by the blood stains he’s probably…yes. Yes, you can see him rising from the grave right there, with that distinctive shambling gait. Masterson is taking the field again as a zombie, no doubt about it.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: One of the better draft picks by the “third team” this season. Looks like he and Tennison get a rematch.