Camp Randall used to shake. I mean physically shake, like the ground was moving under your feet. I remember sitting in the old bleacher seats back in the early 80s, before they renovated anything, and you could feel every single one of the 77,000 people jumping at the same time. The whole stadium would sway during "Jump Around" before that was even a thing, we just made our own noise. It was organic, it was real. You earned those memories by sitting through November games where the wind came off Lake Mendota and cut right through your winter coat. Now I see these kids on their phones during timeouts, posting to social media, and I want to scream at them. Look up. Feel this. You are standing on hallowed ground where Ron Dayne ran over people and where we beat Michigan in 1981 when nobody gave us a chance. The new scoreboards are nice and the suites are fancy but we lost something when they put all that money into the concourses. The soul of this place was in those old aluminum benches where strangers hugged each other after a touchdown. I will die on this hill that Camp Randall was better when it was uncomfortable and loud and real.