Back when students still had a glint of rebellion and phones still had home buttons, the GVSU wrecking ball was a rite of passage. You didn’t just walk past it. You swung on it. Climbed it. Photographed it. Worshipped it like a sacred, slightly dangerous mascot. And for a shining, six-second moment, it was immortalized on the greatest app humanity ever built: Vine.
Then they took it all away.
GVSU’s administration cited “safety concerns” — 8 years before COVID safety policing — deciding that a harmless sculpture was somehow dangerous. Sure, you might not love the idea of students swinging naked on it, but that’s not the point. GVSU leadership caved to "for your safety" culture, then destroyed an icon. And with it, GVSU’s culture. Installed in 1973, after one viral video they now deemed it "unsafe."
“We really need to verify the structural integrity right now, and consider the safety ramifications and look at whether or not there’s a better way to install it.”
The sculpture was actually a bifilar pendulum. It was created by artist Dale Eldred in 1973.
“It was exhilarating,” one alum told me. “You felt like you were in on a secret. Like you belonged to the campus, not the other way around.” That’s the thing about tradition. The best ones aren’t handed down by administrators. They’re stumbled into, documented in grainy dorm-room footage, and posted with captions like “SEND IT.”
Enter Vine. Re-live it here:
In 2013, a freshman swung naked from the wrecking ball in a now-legendary Vine set to Miley Cyrus’s Wrecking Ball. It was hilarious. It was stupid. It was everything college is supposed to be.
It was also the end.
Within days, university officials removed the sculpture citing “safety concerns” and “inappropriate use.” The wrecking ball vanished. A steel symbol of chaos and connection was gone, just empty sandpit remained.
Some people blamed the student. Some blamed Miley. I blame the death of joy. Killjoys.
The wrecking ball was never school-sanctioned. That’s what made it matter. It was a little dangerous. A little dumb. And 100% authentic.
Today’s campus life is pre-approved and hyper-managed. Want to hang posters? Fill out a form. Want to organize a rally? Submit a proposal. Want to exercise free speech? Sign up for a time slot in a free speech zone. Want to swing on a steel ball? Sorry, that’s “not its intended use.”
Meanwhile, the wrecking ball remains on campus — technically — but it’s chained to the ground, restricted to a pitiful few inches of movement. A sad reminder of its former glory. It’s fenced in now, surrounded by extra concrete and cautionary signage, like a monument to fun once had and thoroughly punished.
When we overprotect, we under-develop. Students aren’t meant to be choreographed like brand campaigns. They’re meant to explore, to embarrass themselves, to create something weird and beautiful in six seconds or less.
And Vine — oh Vine — was the perfect vessel for that. It taught a generation how to edit, perform, and broadcast ridiculous brilliance. It gave us punchlines, memes, micro-legends. TikTok may be slicker, but Vine was raw joy distilled into 6 seconds.
So yes, we miss the wrecking ball. But maybe we miss Vine even more?
Bring back the wrecking ball. Bring back unsupervised joy. And for the love of everything that’s wholesome, bring back Vine. Then — and only then — will we be a proper country again.
Remove the silly fence and the safety chain on the wrecking ball, and maybe, just maybe, GVSU will be a real university again.
Eric McKee is a lifetime resident of West Michigan. Married with two energetic boys, he spends his days balancing work with dad life. Also, a firm believer that Almond St. Claus Windmill Cookies are the ultimate snack (and maybe a little too good).
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