Barry Alvarez capped off a splendid Saturday -- for himself and this writer -- by knocking off Michigan 23-20 at Camp Randall. AP

(This is part I of Luke Winn's "Wisconsin weekend." To read part II, click here.)

A prominent Eastern sports network is running a series of commercials based around the slogan, "Everything Changes on GameDay." One of the Home Depot-sponsored spots begins with everyone's favorite former Ohio State quarterback in his tranquil office at 10:30 a.m. Monday, meticulously painting miniature soldiers, and then juxtaposes his hobby-work with images of what he typically does at 10:30 a.m. Saturday: pushups on a human-hoisted board, cheered on by raucous college football fans. The only thing that remains the same from scene to scene is his suit.

At SI.com, everything also changes on game day. On Mondays at 10:30 a.m., I am in a conference room on the 32nd floor of the Time and Life Building in New York, attending the Web site's morning budget meeting and readying for a day in the office; on Saturdays at 10:30 a.m., I am dead asleep in my bed. Fifteen minutes later, however, I awaken to begin a grueling game-day routine as SI.com's college football producer: turn on two GamePlan-enhanced TVs in the living room of my apartment; power up two laptops with high-speed Internet (for running the college football section and IMing colleagues); click on a cell phone (for conversing with one Stewart Mandel and various other correspondents); prepare breakfast; endure the complaints of my girlfriend, Emily, who is not pleased over our one-bedroom abode's transformation into a sports newsroom; and settle in for roughly 10-12 hours of televised football and a substantial amount of work. In an effort at one-upsmanship, I even make a point of altering my attire, from office casual on Monday to barely presentable on Saturday. Millions will log on to the site, unaware of the difference.

Such is the sad, house-bound existence of the man behind the section (at least until he is released into the wild as a college basketball writer in the winter). But the powers-that-be here are not entirely heartless; realizing the sweatshop-like conditions under which we producers toil, I am permitted to take leave for one, possibly two, of the season's 14 weekends. The first: Sept. 24. And what do I proceed to do? Pursue two travel possibilities for morphing from journalist into college football fan:

Option 1: My alma mater, unranked Northwestern, hosting unranked Penn State in Evanston, Ill., at 11 a.m. CT, or ...

Option 2: My childhood (and local) team, No. 24 Wisconsin, facing No. 13 Michigan at night in Camp Randall Stadium

Option 1 has issues from the get-go -- a couple of calls reveal that my NU friends, mostly out of the Chicago area, are saving their travel dollars for homecoming and not Penn State, rendering slim the chances of a reunion party. Option 1 is also pathetic when stacked up against Option 2, which, even before I factor in the national magnitude of the game, is near perfect: My father is a Badgers season-ticket holder (and willing to save me a seat); my younger brother, Nathan, is a fourth-year (I refer to him as an "academic redshirt") junior at the University of Wisconsin whose house would be having a tailgate that day; my cousin David, a good friend and UW alum, would join us; and the proximity to my hometown would allow me to watch the Packers with my grandfather the next day in his basement, a venue that, because of my grandfather's unbridled enthusiasm at the age of 90, I actually prefer to Lambeau Field. Option 2, therefore, is victorious in a rout of Texas Tech-over-Sam Houston State proportions.

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