I'm jealous of you - all of you.

I know I'm going to sound as selfish as Veruca Salt from "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," but I often find myself really wishing that I was sitting in the student section. And yes, I'm well aware that Michigan lost last week, and that the game was very boring. Nonetheless, while I walk to the stadium on a Football Saturday, I constantly tell the other football writers how sad I am to be going to the press box.

I know, I know. I'm insane. People would probably pay their weight in gold for a chance to cover the Wolverines and sit in the press box (on the 40-yard line, no less). But I've contemplated how much money I could get for my press pass (not that I would ever do that Bill Martin. I've read how I can be prosecuted). I think for the whole season, I could get over a thousand for it, but that's not the point.

My life as a student-section member is over. I have to accept that my last game was the Northwestern game last year - not exactly the way I wanted to go out. But now, instead of dwelling on what I can't change, I look at what is different about being a member of the "media." I use that term in quotes, because - let's be honest - I'm not media. Those in the press do not tailgate before games or openly cheer when Jason Avant makes a great grab - but I do. In fact, I would be embarrassed to call myself media. I'm more of a student of the game who happens to cover the team, something coach Carr probably doesn't mind hearing (Lloyd, I can take over for Jim Brandstatter anytime). It's even possible he would trust me more, since I'm not like Jim Carty or Angelique Chengelis, whose livelihoods are based on the big story. Not me. My livelihood is based on grades and having fun, not whether my editor loves what I do.

So my mission now is to soak up as many aspects of the Big House as possible.

Let me start by admitting this cheesy but very honest fact: When the band takes the field, I still get chills. It's like my first game every time. It doesn't matter that it's no longer August 2002, that Washington sucks or that I'm a senior. I get goosebumps - it's automatic.

But that probably happens to a ton of people. Now that I'm no longer between sections 25 and 32, there are things that I notice a lot more. For example, all the critics are right - the crowd really is quiet. I always thought people were biased. But no, the Big House is more like the Big Silent most of the game. That's why it was almost refreshing to see the students throwing stuff. I don't condone that behavior (please, editor, take the electrodes off my body now - so maybe a small portion of my life depends on my editor) because it's childish and not in line with good sportsmanship. But the students showed a pulse. It was finally loud. You cared at last. Furthermore, while I was standing on the field (yeah, I get to stand on the field for part of the game, it's pretty sweet), the noise was almost deafening. I was so happy; I was actually jumping around - yet another example of me not being a media member. Could you imagine Mitch Albom (if he actually went to games) or John Clayton doing that? But anyway, it was a great scene to see, even though Michigan couldn't pull the game out.

The other end of that spectrum came when Chad Henne threw an interception at the Notre Dame goal line. I had never heard 111,000 people gasp - it was crazy. Since I'm high above, I could see the reaction; it was surreal. It sounded like everyone had been kicked in the pants.

But even more than these game actions, there are the small things that I experience as part of the "media." When I sat in the student section, I was too busy having a good time to notice how long some of the timeouts can be. Now that I'm not allowed to be as chatty or excitable, I get to experience how extensive these breaks are. But the best part is the guy in the red hat. Holy hell, it kills me when some people notice him and boo him. I wonder if he knew what he was signing up for when he got his job. I think the job description should have said something like, "Thick skin required." Really, who wants to be booed every week and be so blatantly obvious to 111,000 people by being the only guy on the field wearing a red hat? It shouldn't amuse me so much, but since I can't get drunk and wild before games anymore, I take comfort in the small pleasures of the Big House.