The Christmas spirit is alive and well in Solon. At least it is for Tripp Johnson. Every gameday, the senior Spartan linebacker reaches into the top right drawer of his four-tiered brown wooden dresser and grabs his unfolded black and red Santa Claus underwear. The word “SWAG” is stitched into the elastic waistline. Some may think they’re a symbol of early festivity. They’d be wrong. It’s a superstition.

“I just wore them for the first game this season because they were comfortable,” Johnson said, smiling. “But once we won, I thought ‘must be the underwear.’”

Must be. Since that victory on August 29th, the Spartans haven’t lost when he wears his jolly jocks. Oh and don’t worry, he washes them.

Johnson is not alone in his superstitious ways. On a team with this kind of success, many people also have routines to follow.

The gym shoes of Bryce Pierce thump the pavement at 5:45 a.m. They’re New Balance, a pair he snagged on sale from Scheels. His headlamp cuts through the darkness, illuminating the one-mile loop near his house he runs every gameday. It’s not fast. But he needs to do it.

“I’m already a little anxious for the game to get there,” Pierce said. “It elevates my heart rate to match how I feel for the day.”

That’s the morning. But Pierce has his afterschool ritual as well. While the first year offensive coordinator doesn’t really drink pop, Fridays are the exception. At the end of the school day, Pierce makes his way into the teacher’s lounge. He pulls out his wallet, scans his credit card at the vending machine, and takes a swig from the bottle of crisp Coca Cola. Not diet. Not Coke Zero. Just the classic.

“It’s just a couple bucks,” Pierce said. “It helps level me out.”

It has to be Everlong. It just has to be. Every gameday, senior Brady White throws on his wireless Skull Candy Evo over-the-ear headphones and blasts it. The signature song, released as a single in 1997 by the Foo Fighters, is one that White can’t go without before he suits up.

“I lift to it, it’s my favorite song,” White said. “It just kind of grew into me.”

It all started with his older brother, Brett, who introduced him to the alternative rock group. Brady, who looks up to his brother, was quickly and musically molded by it. On both of their Instagram pages, the song makes an appearance. For Brett, who now plays baseball at the University of Iowa, June 21, 2024, was the debut. Four months and one week later, Brady posted to the same song. Everlong awaited.

“I would feel shaken up if I didn’t listen to it,” Brady said. “I wouldn’t be locked in.”

Lucas Stanton used to live by superstition. The same socks, the same CD, even the same Alabama football cutoff T-shirt under his pads from seventh grade through his junior year of college. But over time, those quirks turned into calm routines. Every gameday, the Spartan head coach wakes up before his family, showers, and shaves. It’s a ritual he’s kept since his playing days. He swirls Rehydrate electrolyte mix into his water, turns on some country music videos, and quietly preps for the night ahead. At some point, he always finds time for a workout.

“It helps with clarity and kind of relaxes me,” he said.

Around lunch, his wife drops off Jersey Mike’s turkey subs at the school. Noah, their son, walks up from his elementary classroom to eat with his dad. The duo gets the number seven. Stanton gets all the toppings. Noah just adds lettuce.

“It’s kind of our time to hangout,” Stanton said. “Then he’s down there on the sideline with us later.”

Stanton loves when his players get into routines like he does. He often encourages it. But he tries not to rely on the luck factor.

“When you’re really prepared,” he said, “that’s where your confidence comes from. Not a silly superstition.”

The Spartans stick to what works. Festive underwear or rock song, morning run or turkey sub, their gamedays are built on routine. Some are weird. But they all work. Each quirk offers a quick moment of calm before the chaos. And with the postseason starting tomorrow night (Friday, October 31), the Spartans aren’t touching what’s working. Soon enough, Tripp Johnson will once again reach into the top right drawer of his dresser and pull out his lucky Christmas boxers. Here comes playoff football. Here comes Santa Claus.