Early this semester, a group of us were watching 127 Hours. Like any regular moviegoer, the plot of the movie was already pretty clear heading in: Hiker gets arm caught in a rock, does everything under the sun to get it out, and finally cuts it off to save his life. Like watching Titanic, everybody knows this ship is headed straight for the bottom of the Atlantic.

But like the clichéd and overused saying goes: It’s not the destination, but the journey.

Watching this hiker struggle I was absorbed by the little details he went through, like developing a pulley system in an attempt to leverage the rock off his arm, use everything in his backpack to keep warm when the temperature dropped to 40 degrees at night, and his self made videos from his flip camera he narrates in between ideas.

I had 90 minutes to brace for what was coming, the payoff was about to happen. I thought I was ready. But as he dug his knife into his arm, suddenly I became lightheaded, I stared at the floor to catch my breath; but each time he cut a nerve the movie made a high pitch noise that echoed in my head. Just like that, I passed out.

Had my roommate not tapped me on the shoulder 30 seconds later, I would have been dreaming until morning while hanging over the side of my couch.  I had only one thought when I felt normal again an hour later.

WOW!

If ever given the opportunity to meet the director, Danny Boyle, I would shake his hand firmly and tell him what a fantastic filmmaker he is. Not only was this movie attention grabbing, it caused me to react.

A 23-year old, 220 lb. guy, who’d seen countless horror movies, was mentally shaken, and then literally knocked out for the count.

Rivalry games are the same way.

Now granted, nobody is passing out during these games, but it gets a reaction out of us every time.

Watching a basketball game, it’s pretty standard the game can only end a couple different ways: One team crushes the other, one team gets a huge lead then blows it, or the lead changes on nearly every possession with the winner of the game usually coming with the last possession.

Then why watch?

It would be just as easy to pull up the box score ten minutes after the final buzzer and see who won.

But the score means nothing.

It’s the atmosphere, the lower lip biting, the fist clenching during every possession of the game. A turnover, a missed three throw, a botched layup could cost fans a year’s worth of bragging rights.

No IU fan walked out of Assembly Hall caring how many points we lost by. They cared that the team had it’s chances to win, didn’t capitalize and looked miles behind Purdue at times.

No Purdue fan cared how much they won by, plain and simple they knew their team took care of business. Period.

Like great cinema, an amazing ending means nothing without seeing the details leading up to it.

That’s the beauty of the rivalry, materialistic awards mean nothing.

IU has banners.

Purdue is No. 8 in the nation.

Everybody knows. Nobody cares.

Purdue came into this game 11-3 in the Big Ten. IU was 3-11.

Nobody has to be analyst on College GameDay to predict what should have happened in this game. Anyone with a serious gambling addiction would bet their next mortgage payment on Purdue all day.

Hoosier faithful knew they weren’t favored in this game. That doesn’t stop 18,000 plus from cramming into Assembly Hall because they know these two teams despise each other and watching every second is the best part.

The payoff is the ultimate goal, but every play leading up to it provides the adrenaline.

It’s like watching Inception for the first time. Skip to the last scene, and the spinning top means absolutely nothing. Watch the entire movie, and that top has your eyes glued to the screen like it’s a staring contest.

This movie didn’t end the way Bloomington hoped, but they’ll be the first ones in line when the sequel opens next season.

Fade to black. Credits roll.