Football’s coming back: It’s been far too long since the whistle blew on our last bowl game.

The dog days of summer will soon pass, and the leaves will start to turn. We’ll head out to our stadiums, by car, train, or on foot, ready to tailgate with friends before we watch our beloved teams kickoff.

Football draws fans from all over: fans who spent part of the summer on the beaches of the Jersey Shore, fans who work in farms all across our northern lands, fans who live in suburbs and cities and work in urban areas, students, families: fans that have been hungrily awaiting kickoff since January.

Every big ten fan, if their team doesn’t make the playoffs, fondly looks west and wishes they can book plane tickets to see their beloved team take on a Pac 12 foe in the grandaddy of them all: the Rose Bowl. Or at least going bowling somewhere warm.

I think we’re all very happy that football is returning, with conference play starting tomorrow.

There’s one man, and only one man, who can kickoff the football season, even though he’s not one of us. A garrulous and energetic coach who toils in the loudest football stadium in the country. A man who’s gravelly voice sings from sea to shining sea:

YAW YAW YAW FOOTBALL!

Let the season begin!