What a long bus ride home.

Yeah, Hunington, W. Va. is five hours away from my rickety apartment in Bowling Green, but for all I care it would seem just as long if the bus was heading out to Perrysburg or Cygnet.

I sit in this stiff padded chair of Bowling Green charter bus number three and observe the mood around me. That’s what journalists are supposed to do – sit and observe. The third bus doesn’t carry the starting quarterbacks or head position coaches; it’s mostly made up of the last couple of guys to make the travel squad. It also holds the strength coach, the team doctor and the film crew. Yet I’m sure the mood is just the same on this bus as the two ahead of us carrying the Big Dogs.

Being around a Falcon team that suffered not just its first loss of the season, but a heartbreaking one to a conference foe like Marshall makes the time stand still. Hunington, Perrysburg … it’s all the same. Guys in Falcon gear wear long faces and ponder heavily over the sound of a diesel engine. As we pass Ironton, Ohio, I start to recall what I witnessed in the locker room.

One by one I watched the players walk out. Losing hurts and it shows in the face and in the body. Runningback Joe Alls, biting his lip, hobbling on a sprained ankle he suffered in the second half. Receiver Robert Redd, a new BG receiving record holder, begging trainers for just a couple of aspirin. Defensive tackle D.J. Owchar with his head down, hiding the three big red gashes on his face from the battlefield. Yeah, losing shows in the face and the body, but we know the real reason those guys were hurting so much.

If Bowling Green would have drove out of Marshall 4-0, Alls could have been dancing like James Brown on one leg out of that locker room. Redd would have had a three-mile grin on his face chanting 215, the record number of receiving yards he just gained. And those gashes on Owchar’s face would have felt like kisses from the prettiest girl on campus.

Those guys were nursing more than their injuries, they were nursing their spirit.

Afterwards, there was nothing that can be said or done to ease the pain, just time. Time one gets on long bus rides home.

My stoic face erases for a moment. I see the lights of Columbus. Maybe driving through Columbus at 3 a.m. isn’t so bad – for once the pesky traffic isn’t there. A lot of those long faces I saw as I jumped on the bus are now asleep. What’s to dream about? Maybe a moment beyond this point.

I envision the campus Monday morning heading to the B.A. for my 11:30. What’s that sign by Sic-Sic going to say? Will there even be a sign? For three weeks I watched something special brew. For the first time in my four years here students were proud to be a part of Falcon football. Now what? Can the spirit stay?

I look out the window again – we’re in Marion, Ohio. My good BG buddy Bucky is from this town. I start to feel reassured. Bucky is a great Falcon fan. Even with a newly replaced hip and possibly a lot of pain he hides from his friends, I can still see Bucky in the stands as I’m heading down to the field. If it is possible, he’ll be back for Kent cheering on the Falcons. I know the BG men’s chorus will be there rattling their keys on a ‘key’ play. I know a great BG band will march in their overpriced, ridiculous uniforms and play some sweet, sweet sounding music (It’s all in fun guys). Most importantly, I start to feel the magic of the season will not be lost. The sadness will soon be replaced with even more hunger. The type of hunger that helps win championships.

I look at the sleeping faces and know that Marshall busted their gut, but didn’t knock them out. These sleeping faces will eventually awaken and stand tall.

Finally I’m at ease. I look up and see the brilliant orange letters illuminating Doyt Perry stadium. We’re back at B.G.S.U.

Maybe it wasn’t such a long trip after all.