While reflecting on an upbringing filled with callused hands, early wake-up calls and a don’t-skip-a-day work ethic that helped mold him into one of the country’s top young coaches, Bielema, 41, also recalled one of the defining moments of his formative years.
While he was a student at Iowa, only hours after the Hawkeyes beat Michigan in 1990 to help propel them to the Rose Bowl, Bielema found out that his 27-year-old sister, Betsy, had died while doing charity work with underprivileged children in the Seattle area. A snake darted from under a rock and spooked a horse, which threw Betsy, who landed on her head.
Since that day, games against Michigan have always carried extra meaning for Bielema. Last year, Bielema told his team before the Michigan game that everyone deals with demons, but “how you handle those things really define you.”
Bielema did not mention his sister, but after the Badgers won, 48-28, the Wisconsin senior defensive back Aaron Henry approached Bielema and said, “Your sister is watching, Coach.”
Tears welled in Bielema’s eyes while he reflected on Henry’s gesture.
“I got caught up in the moment,” he said. “After we had just beat Michigan like we did. Wow.”
When No. 4 Wisconsin plays No. 15 Michigan State in the marquee game of Saturday’s college football schedule, there will also be a reminder on the opposite sideline of that dark time.
The Michigan State defensive line coach Ted Gill held the same job at Iowa in 1990 and was the one who delivered the news of Betsy’s death to Bielema on that Saturday night.
“I went over to the dorm and everyone was still on the high from beating Michigan,” Gill said. “When I told him what happened, we went from one extreme to another.”
Bielema is still grateful that four of his closest friends, all of whom will be groomsmen in his wedding, met him at the Iowa football facility that night and rode home with him. One, Chris Greene, stayed with Bielema for a week, through all the services for his sister.
Betsy’s death forever bonded Bielema and the teammates who helped him through it. It also further strengthened his resolve.
“That probably did go a ways in terms of making him feel like, I’m going to wake up and go to work today,” Greene said. “Life is precious and can end unexpectedly. He’s not going to waste the opportunity he’s been given. And as much as anyone, Betsy is one of the ones he would have wanted to disappoint the least.”
Bielema’s response to his sister’s death accentuated the relentless mentality forged while growing up on a hog farm in a town, Prophetstown, Ill., where the Bielema family’s 2,500 pigs outnumbered the human population of 1,800.
Bielema woke up before sunrise every weekday, primarily saddled with the task of cleaning out the hog pens. He would wake at 7 a.m. on Saturdays to work while his friends spent leisurely days at the mall. Family vacations were nonexistent; Bielema said the only traveling he did was to a pig show in Minneapolis and a few bus trips to the Six Flags amusement park in a Chicago suburb.
“That was a big deal,” he said. “I’d never been on a plane until I went to the Peach Bowl my freshman year at Iowa.”
For Bielema, football became a joyous escape from the monotony of farm life. He chose to be a walk-on at Iowa instead of going to a Division III college but finished his career as a scholarship player and a team captain.
Bielema, Greene and Paul Kujawa got Hawkeye tattoos after all three earned scholarships, a pact they made early in their careers. The tattoo is a humorous talking point every time Wisconsin plays Iowa, and Bielema likes to note that he was born at Illini Hospital in Silvis, Ill., giving him two awkward ties to Big Ten rivals.
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