I didn’t get to go to the game this weekend due to some personal complications. I thought it was going to suck.

I was relegated to watching this game from the confined comfort of my apartment couch with some friends.

Throughout the game, our emotions swung, seemingly as quickly as the scoring in the first five minutes of the game.

First play from scrimmage, Boeckman to Hartline. Rage.

If you watched any of the “experts” before the game, you would have thought that Ohio State had already won the game and was checking the injury report to see how Mike Hart was doing.

Fifth play from scrimmage, Dufrene for 80 yards. Elation.

Right about now is when I think that Ohio State and the rest of the audience understood that Ohio State was actually playing a game this week, and not against Michigan.

Nay, Jim Tressel, you were in for it.

Even though Ohio State shut down Rashard Mendenhall fairly well, Juice Williams had the best game of his career, stepping up when he needed to most.

He didn’t cover too much space through the air on his 12 completions, but his four touchdowns were more than sufficient.

Amid a season in which he has been so maligned at times, to say that this game was vindication for him might be a bit of an understatement.

Seeing him command the field on the last drive of the game was likely seeing what he will have to offer in the years to come.

After rushing for his fourth first down on the drive, Williams got to take a much deserved breather – and a knee to end the game.

Seeing the team celebrate was more than enough inspiration for debauchery to ensue.

To the Alma Mater we went. Approximately 200 people were already a step ahead of us, chanting various profane things about Ohio State and Tressel.

I normally hate the “ILL … INI” cheer, but my hatred departed for the time being. The mob mentality had more than taken me in. I found myself finishing off an “I” at the top of my lungs.

“Green Street,” the crowd finally chanted.

We were off, just a couple of hundred college students running like maniacs, high-fiving hands extended out of windows as we shot westward on Green Street.

Most people were in no shape clothing-wise for an impromptu riot, but no one cared, lest their attire keep them from celebrating.

The cops conceded to the students, not even trying to stop anyone. Champaign’s finest simply blocked off traffic, knowing full well they couldn’t fit this many students in any prison around here.

The local army of Champaign hobos even helped to direct traffic. I don’t think they really did anything in the end, but it was great to see them get into the action, too.

In a decision more arbitrary than being picked to be on “The Price is Right,” the thong of persons set up shop around Sixth Street, outside of Chipotle.

Some climbed light posts, some chanted and others stood contently by at the side of the chaos, lighting up cigars. My friend had a pan and a wooden spoon, banging away to his heart’s content. A traffic cone was liberated from its simple life of deterring traffic and served a truer purpose in being tossed around by the mob, beach ball-esque.

The entire group of students was clearly drunk at this point – on passion, and maybe alcohol.

A stretch limousine drove by with a wedding party inside, some of the groomsmen offered their hands, not in marriage, but to slap some wicked fives with the group.

We happily obliged. The bride was enjoying an adult beverage, likely celebrating her wedding day, but I knew it was really for the victory.

There we were, celebrating Williams, Leman, Mendenhall and the like.

The Church of Zook was meeting for service. Green Street was our sanctuary. Our preacher might have still been out on business, but the congregation was more than happy to meet on its own.

Dan Johnson is a junior in Communications. He can be reached at [email protected].