ClayNation: Is buying Big Ten gear a hanging offense?

My name is Clay Travis and I have a confession to make: I now own Michigan Wolverines athletic apparel. I own a pair of yellow athletic shorts that are clearly emblazoned with the Michigan name and I also own a blue long-sleeve T-shirt with Michigan stitched across the chest. The -gan actually rests directly above my heart.

Yep, I own Big Ten paraphernalia. I'm a traitor, a despicable fan, the worst person to stride across the earth since Attila the Hun gave up the ghost. What could lead me down the primrose path of apparel-fan disloyalty?

Even with the Wolverines logo near his heart, the Vols are still No. 1 with Clay. (Photo/CBS Store)

I'll tell you -- a store named Steve & Barry's.

First, a more complete confession: I sort of, halfway, a bit, very little, in the most minor and insignificant way possible, in the spaces between my fingers while my eyes are covered, root for Michigan when it comes to Big Ten football.

Now mind you, I never cheer, yell, yelp or groan when Michigan is playing. It takes me less than one second to recover from Michigan losing to Ohio State, Notre Dame or any other of their rivals. If Michigan went 0-12, next year my life wouldn't change for better or worse.

Actually, when you get right down to it, I sort of root for Michigan like most bad college football fans I know root for their favorite teams. You know who I'm talking about, the people who are never stung by the pain of defeat. But even this affinity, limited as it might be, was relatively insignificant until recently when I found myself in Ann Arbor.

My wife is a Michigan alum and I have spent enough time in Ann Arbor to actually like the town, the people, the college and the atmosphere. At least when it's not cold. I don't like it anywhere when it's cold. But for a scheduling mishap at the Michigan Union I would have actually gotten married on campus.

You can imagine what a shock this is to my system. For my entire life I rooted against every Big Ten school like my life depended on their failure. Hated the teams, hated the players, hated the fans, hated pretty much everything tangentially connected to the Big Ten.

Slowly, I've come to kind of enjoy watching Michigan play football. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, call it a lapsed bit of hate, call it the result of sleeping alongside the enemy every night, call it whatever you will. Just please, let me explain.

The Michigan Wolverines sort of remind me of my Tennessee Vols: Outrageously talented, Saturdays full of pageantry with a fight song that's fun to hum, a stadium that seats over 100,000 people, and a coach who has not said anything interesting in about 20 years. Oh, and they find ways to have great seasons yet still leave all of their fans feeling unfulfilled. Basically UT and Michigan are to college football what dry humping is to sex.

Tennessee 45, Michigan 17. (Getty Images)

Yeah, I just made that analogy. And your wife or girlfriend is going to hate it, too.

But on a recent trip to Michigan I found myself in Ann Arbor. At a store called Steve & Barry's. My wife needed to gather a new collection of Michigan apparel because her shirts were getting old. Or too tight. Or too loose. Or some such female reason why new clothes have to be purchased to replace perfectly fine old clothes. So we went.

Steve & Barry's is located in the center of Ann Arbor. The entire store is filled with Wolverine paraphernalia. Two floors, several thousand square feet, every possible licensed product related to Michigan you can imagine. And here's the amazing part -- hardly anything in the entire store costs more than $20.

I went into the store planning on buying absolutely nothing and occasionally reminding my wife about UT's 45-17 spanking of Michigan in the 2002 Citrus Bowl. Yep, five years ago, but the only time the two schools have played in my lifetime.

But then something strange happens as my wife picks up one thing after another. I start to think maybe I should buy a pair of Michigan shorts. Without really intending to, my mind comes up with all kinds of rationalizations. Sort of like when you go to the gas station to get a Mello Yello and end up standing for a long time in front of the smutty magazines. My first thought is these clothes are so cheap it isn't that big of an endorsement. Less than $15. It's almost criminal not to.

I pick up the shorts and look at them. Yep, regular shorts. Second, as I said before, it's not like Tennessee and Michigan ever really play. Not with any degree of consistency. Just once in my life. What are the chances they'll play again anytime soon? I'll tell you, minimal. And then I see the shirts. Long-sleeve shirts for $7.50? How is this even economically feasible? I decide I need to find an expert on economic feasibility. Finding none, I ask my wife.

"Steve & Barry's has always been cheap," she says. I nod. My rationalizations continue. Third, the Big Ten actually has 11 schools. If I buy Michigan apparel I can still hate the other 10 schools. Maybe hate them even more. My wife suddenly realizes I'm holding a pair of athletic shorts.

"You're not going to buy those, are you?" she asks.

Clay Travis' next pair of Michigan shorts? (Photo/CBS Store)

"No, of course not," I say, rapidly placing them back on the clothes rack. I continue walking around the store. Leather jackets? $25. Sure you have to be a tool to wear a leather jacket but still, leather jackets for that cheap? I start to worry that my wife has set me up by having Steve & Barry's lower the cost on every product for our visit. Once more I return to the shorts. Michigan curls seductively around the right leg.

Fourth, it's not like they actually mention a sport. Just a school. After all, I'm in favor of education. Particularly collegiate education. There's nothing that says I have to support the athletic team. No football- or basketball-specific endorsements beneath the school logo. I could be rooting for the chemistry program or the math department. God knows we need more good mathematicians. For what I'm not sure, but I'm sure we need them.

Once more I pick up the shorts. Hold them out in front of me.

Finally, my wife actually graduated from Michigan. By advertising her school I'm making her degree more valuable. There might even be a financial benefit to me. Moving quickly, I take the shorts and then, for good measure, grab the shirt as well. It's only a little more than $20 I'm spending. I'd be a fool not to.

As I rush across the store I sneak a glance over my shoulder. Think that perhaps I can buy the gear before my wife even notices. Then I can discreetly request that the gear be covertly shipped to me. In a brown wrapper. With no identification of where it came from. But before I can make it to the cash register she sees me.

"I'm so impressed," she says, "you're buying Michigan gear."

She smiles at me. My maturity has overwhelmed her for the first time in our marriage. I smile back and answer her with the complete honesty SEC and Big Ten marriages demand.

"They're Christmas gifts for your dad," I say. "I still hate Charles Woodson."